Samoa mo Samoa: the emergence of the independent state of Western Samoa 9780195500608

Table of contents :
Frontmatter
INTRODUCTION (page ix)
Prolegomena
1 THE COUNTRY AND THE PROBLEM (page 3)
Political History to 1946
2 THE TRADITIONAL POLITY (page 15)
3 THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 (page 31)
4 COLONIAL PATERNALISM 1900-26 (page 76)
5 THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL I926-46 (page 114)
Approach to Self-Government 1946-58
6 THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 (page 163)
7 THE NEW POLICY AT WORK (page 188)
8 THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY (page 234)
9 DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT (page 262)
10 THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION 1951-8 (page 316)
Transition to Independence 1958-62
11 THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 (page 349)
12 THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 (page 382)
Epilogue (page pagenuber)
13 THE INDEPENDENT STATE OF WESTERN SAMOA (page 415)
A Note on Samoan Orthography (page 431)
Glossary (page 432)
Abbreviations (page 435)
A Note on Sources (page 436)
Notes (page 441)
Index (page 457)

Citation preview

Samoa mo Samoa

?

J. W. DAVIDSON

a ~MO A SAMOA ss i é SAMOA The Emergence of the Independent State of Western Samoa

ey MELBOURNE

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS LONDON WELLINGTON NEW YORK

1967

Oxford University Press, Ely House, London, W.1 GLASGOW NEW YORK TORONTO MELBOURNE WELLINGTON CAPE TOWN SALISBURY IBADAN NAIROBI LUSAKA ADDIS ABABA BOMBAY CALCUTTA MADRAS KARACHI LAHORE DACCA KUALA LUMPUR HONG KONG TOKYO

Oxford University Press, 7 Bowen Crescent, Melbourne

Registered in Australia for transmission by post as a book PRINTED IN AUSTRALIA BY HALSTEAD PRESS, SYDNEY

To

MALIETOA TANUMAFILI II and the memory

of TUPUA TAMASESE MEA’OLE

Contents

INTRODUCTION 1X Page

Prolegomena

1 THE COUNTRY AND THE PROBLEM 3 Political History to 1946

2 THE TRADITIONAL POLITY 15 3 THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 31

4 COLONIAL PATERNALISM 1900-26 76

1926-46 II4

5 THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL

Approach to Self-Government 1946-58

6 THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 = 163

7 THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 188 § THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 234

g DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 262

1951-8 316

10 THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION

Transition to Independence 1958-62

tr THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 349 12 THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 382 vil

Vill CONTENTS Epilogue

SAMOA AIS

13 THE INDEPENDENT STATE OF WESTERN

Glossary 432 Abbreviations 435

A Note on Samoan Orthography 431

Notes 441 Index 457

A Note on Sources 436

Maps

THE PACIFIC front end-paper WESTERN SAMOA back end-paper

Introduction HIS book is concerned with the changes in the political structure,

“LT thouste and activity of Samoa resulting from its contact with the Western world. It analyses in detail, and so far as possible from the point of view of the indigenous people, one example of a historical phenomenon of almost world-wide occurrence.

The period extending from the beginning of the fifteenth to the end of the nineteenth century may best be described, in the context of world history, as the European Age. During those five hundred years the forces that reshaped the world politically and economically and that changed its moral and intellectual climate emanated mainly from Europe. As diplomats and rulers, as mariners and traders, as missionaries

and settlers, men and women of European origin established their influence in every continent and on almost every inhabited island; and, through their activities, the way of life of non-European peoples was changed profoundly, though in greatly varying ways and degrees. Yet the cultural patterns of extra-European societies, though often trans-

formed, were never wholly destroyed. And in the twentieth century the relationship between Europe and its cultural outliers, on the one hand, and the rest of the world, on the other, has finally ceased to be one of dominance and submission. The European Age has ended; and the world order that has emerged is one in which all countries and peoples claim equality with all others in terms of rights and human

dignity, if not in those of wealth and power. What has been the character, and what the scale, of the transformation in non-Western countries? And by what stages did it occur? Samoa provides a particularly good case for the study of this process

and for the answering of these questions. Living in a group of contiguous islands but possessing some contacts with other Pacific peoples,

the Samoans were aware before the arrival of Europeans of the uniformities of their culture and of its differentiation from that of their neighbours. Since the arrival of the first missionaries and traders just Over 130 years ago, the Samoans have accepted much from the West,

but they have also retained the basic patterns of their traditional culture. Politically, they have passed from the rudimentary independence of relative isolation, through a period of colonial rule, to the ix

x INTRODUCTION recognition—in respect of Western Samoa—of the country’s sovereignty by the community of nations. The title of this book—Samoa mo Samoa (‘Samoa for the Samoans’) —

is a twentieth century political slogan; but it expresses an attitude that has dominated Samoan thinking since the coming of Europeans. Not only in political matters, but also in those of the church and of

commerce, the Samoans have resented Western dominance. They have sought always and, despite their internal divisions, with substantial success to retain control of their own affairs or to regain it from alien hands. The book is, in part at least, an essentially personal one, since I have

written it not only as a historian but also as a participant in many of the events of more recent years and as one for whom that participation has been a major personal experience. In the chapters covering the years since 1947, when I first visited Samoa, I have dealt

in greatest detail with developments in the several periods during which I have been actively involved in Samoan affairs. In this way, it seemed, I could hope to penetrate farthest into the realities of Samoan experience. But, if my role as a participant has brought added understanding, it has also created some danger of loss of detach-

ment. For this reason, I have written of my own activities in the first person. Often my position was that of a passionate partisan; and even now, recollecting experience in tranquillity, the afterglow of past political involvement has, no doubt, affected my presentation of events. I believe that this involvement enabled me to see Samoan society in a

clearer light, and not in false colours. But I am aware that many fellow New Zealanders with whom I worked in Samoa would disagree with me on one subject or another; and I shall welcome the

recording by any of them of their own interpretation of the years leading to independence. The possibility of writing definitive history

is reached through the process of progressive approximation.

THOUGH final responsibility for this book is mine alone, the contri-

bution of many others to its making has been a major one. The greatest of my obligations are to friends and colleagues in Samoa who,

over the years, have helped me to learn something of their country. Most perforce remain unnamed. But a few, to whose knowledge, patience and friendship I am specially indebted, must be mentioned:

INTRODUCTION XI in particular, His Highness the late Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole, His Highness Malietoa Tanumafili II, the late Tofa Tomasi, Etené Sa’aga, Va’ai Kolone, and Lauofo Meti. I also owe a great deal, in terms both of friendship and advice to: the Honourable Fiamé Mata’afa Faumuina

Mulinv’i I, Prime Minister of Western Samoa, and his past and present cabinet colleagues; my fellow members of the Legislative Assembly in 1949-50 and of the local government commission of 1950;

and the members of the Working Committee on Self-Government of

1959-61. From Sir Guy Powles, High Commissioner of Western Samoa from 1949 to 1960, I have received the benefit not only of the numberless discussions we have had on Samoan problems and of access to his private papers but also of his detailed and perceptive comments on various things I have written, including a first draft of part of this book. Among colleagues in the Samoan public service, I should like to thank, in particular, Mr J. B. Wright and Mr F. J. H. Grattan.

For permission to consult restricted records in New Zealand relating to the Mau, I am indebted to the Secretary of External Affairs, Mr A. D. McIntosh, and the Chief Archivist of the National Archives, Mr J. D. Pascoe. For access to records on the same subject in Western

Samoa, I am indebted to the former Secretary to the Government, Mr H. A. Levastam.

The staffs of the New Zealand National Archives, of the Prime Minister’s Department in Western Samoa, and of Australian and New Zealand libraries have given freely of their time in making material available to me and in answering questions.

During the writing of the book, Le Mamea Matatumua Ata and Atoamalefuaiupolu Te’o Tuvale have generously answered many questions about Samoan history and about that of the distinguished family of which they are members. The late Tofa Piga Pisa allowed me to use his manuscript history, “The Mau of Pule—1909’, I have also

been greatly assisted by two still unpublished works produced in the Department of Pacific History of the Australian National University: ‘The Politics of a Multi-cultural Community: Samoa, 1830-1900’, by the late R. P. Gilson; and “The National Income of Western Samoa, 1947-1958’, by Ian Fairbairn. A number of colleagues in the Australian National University have read the manuscript and made most valuable comments and suggestions. I am particularly indebted, in this regard,

to R. G. Crocombe, Derek Freeman, H. E. Maude and Deryck Scarr.

Finally, I have received encouragement as well as assistance of a

Xl INTRODUCTION more material kind from four other members of the Department of Pacific History: Mrs Honore Forster and Mrs Susan Faircloth, who helped me both to sift source material and to check references; Mrs Edna Gilbert and Mrs Anvida Lamberts, who typed the manuscript. To all of these, and to the many others upon whose knowledge and skill I have drawn, I express my thanks. J. W. DAVIDSON

Australian National University Canberra

Prolegomena

I THE COUNTRY AND THE PROBLEM AMOA is a nation. Her people are sensitively aware of their own

G identity They have continued to find the framework of their lives in the values and institutions of their own culture. Foreign ways and foreign visitors to their shores have never greatly impressed them

simply because they were foreign. They have, of course, accepted many things that foreigners have brought, the teaching of the Christian

religion, the political and administrative techniques of the modern world, the products of modern industry; but they have made them part of their own way of life. They have accepted many foreigners

into their own society; but they have judged them by the same standards by which they have judged one another. Were they persons of rank and authority or merely hewers of wood and drawers of water?

Were they persons with a chiefly sense of social responsibility or merely seckers of their own advantage? Were they sympathetic to the values of Samoan society? The foreigner has been accepted (or rejected) as an individual, on the basis of his personal qualities. It is this integrity of Samoan society which has won the affection of those who have passed its tests, for they have gained entry not only into a country but also into a way of life. The country itself has not failed to attract them. For few have remained insensitive to the scale and texture of the high, forest-clad mountains rising from the coastal plains; to the form and colour of the brilliant hibiscus and the waxy-

white frangipani; to the elegance of the breadfruit tree and the grandeur of the giant banyan; to the glistening bodies of flying-fish as they rise from the water; to the muted and unceasing roar of the

waves upon the reef; to the long months of sunshine in the dry season. ... But it has been the confident, gracious, and unhurrying way of life of the Samoan people which has given a deeper significance to the personal experience. The traveller, if he has ceased to be an out-

sider noting uneasily the unfamiliar and the apparently bizarre, has entered into a pattern of thought and behaviour that is satisfying, dignified, and complete. It was so—to give one example—for Henry Adams, the American 3

4 SAMOA MO SAMOA historian, who visited Samoa in 1890-1 with the artist John La Farge. Adams arrived in the islands deeply disturbed by the suicide of his wife

and exhausted by the writing of his great history of the formative years of the United States. In Samoa he gained a new tranquillity, as he felt himself being absorbed into the life of the people. After witnes-

sing Samoan dancing in Tutuila he wrote: The mysterious depths of darkness behind, against which the skins and dresses of the dancers mingled rather than contrasted; the sense of remoteness and of genuineness in the stage-management; the conviction that...

we were as good Polynesiacs as our neighbors—the whole scene and association gave so much freshness to our fancy that no future experience,

short of being eaten, will ever make us feel so new again.

A week later, from Upolu, he wrote: ‘For once, the reality has surpassed all expectation. The Samoans are not only interesting, but

personally the most attractive race I ever met.’ He and La Farge had been received by Malietoa and Mata’afa ‘with open arms’; they had ‘drunk kava in the houses of all the chiefs’; they had ‘had a great Siva dance at the house of Sewmano [Seumanutafa]’. ‘I would like’, he declared, ‘to hang to the consular flag-staff one politician, one political economist and one female traveller who writes books, as well as one or more missionaries,—merely in terrorem, to preserve these

islands from notice.’ Later, after he had visited Savai’i, where he stayed with several important chiefs, he wrote: “The Samoans are tremendous aristocrats. Family is everything. ... Their king, Malietoa, is an elderly man, who looks as though he had suffered a great deal, and his manners are perfect.’ And of the trip itself he said: ‘I felt as though I had got back to Homer’s time, and were cruising about on

the Aegean with Ajax.’ It was so for Robert Louis Stevenson, whose work and personality

both reached full maturity during his final years as the master of ‘Vailima’. In Samoa he was able to identify himself with society and

to espouse a public cause—the rights of the Samoan people in the face of Western aggression—with a single-mindedness that had not been possible for him as an artist living in Europe or America.

It was so for Rupert Brooke, who wrote home from Samoa in 1913:

It’s all true about the South Seas! I get a little tired of it at moments, because I am just too old for Romance. But there it is; there it wonderfully is... . IT walked 15 miles through mud and up and down mountains,

THE COUNTRY AND THE PROBLEM 5 and swam three rivers, to get this boat. But if ever you miss me, suddenly,

one day from lecture-room B in King’s, or from the Moulin d’Or at lunch, you'll know that I've got sick for the full moon on these little thatched roofs, and the palms against the morning, and the Samoan boys

and girls diving thirty feet into a green sea or a deep mountain pool under a waterfall—and that I’ve gone back.?

And in Sa’anapu, where Henry Adams a generation before had been impressed by the chief ’Anapu, who had ‘been to San Francisco, New Orleans, New York, Liverpool, Glasgow, Hamburg, as well as

to Australia, China, Japan, and all over the Pacific’, Rupert Brooke wrote a sonnet to the village maiden, Fafaia. It was so, no less, for me. When I first saw Western Samoa, on a brilliant, tropical afternoon early in 1947, I was both excited and puzzled. First, there was the view of Upolu from the air—the massive mountains falling steeply to the sea on both sides of the deeply indented Fagaloa Bay; the coastal villages dominated by white-walled churches which pierced the screen of trees and palms shading the thatched roofs of the houses; the town of Apia spreading from the shores of the harbour, with its cluster of small craft, upwards into the hills towards “Vailima’ (by then Government House); the cocoa plantations, enclosed like honey in the comb by shelter belts of teak trees. Then, there was the drive of twenty miles or so from Faleolo airport through coastal villages into Apia. The thatched open-sided fale

(houses) surrounded by crotons and coleus, by roses, zinnias, and hibiscus, were built round village greens and backed by coconut palms and breadfruit trees, like pavilions set by some eighteenth century landscape gardener in an exotic park. Cheerful, bronzeskinned children clad in brilliant red or blue, yellow or green, cotton prints played beside the road or in the village bathing pools. Their elders, similarly dressed, walked with grace and dignity about their business or sat talking in the fale. Then, there was Apia itself, illplanned, slightly ramshackle, but in a striking setting between the green mountains and the blue Pacific, with the seas breaking in a subdued roar on the reef which bounds the harbour. This was, in the traditional terminology of the South Seas, ‘the Beach’—the region of most intensive contact between peoples and cultures—a town created by European traders and Samoan chiefs, sailors and beachcombers, consuls and colonial administrators, foreign-born clerks and young Samoans attracted by the opportunities of the modern world. As a student of the Pacific I had never been able fully to understand

6 SAMOA MO SAMOA Samoa from a reading of the literature. Samoan culture was extremely

complex, and it had proved peculiarly resistant to the generally disintegrating effects of contact with the West; but the Samoans seemed to have relied at one time on one institution and at another time on another in their efforts to maintain their cultural autonomy and self-respect. Europeans seemed never to have been accorded even

the outward marks of deference so characteristic of the colonial situation; but the Samoans had accepted—or absorbed—many elements of European culture, and individual Europeans and partEuropeans had played leading roles in their political life. How did this

unusual society function? This was one problem—a very general problem—that puzzled me. But my particular academic interests and the circumstances of my

visit presented me with other, and more specific, ones. A New Zealander who had begun to lecture on colonial government in an English university, I had been sent to Western Samoa by the Prime Minister of New Zealand to report on the working of the administration and on the political aspirations of the Samoan leaders, and, as it turned out, to submit recommendations for a programme of develop-

ment towards self-government. To what extent did the Samoan situation conform to the general pattern of colonial politics that could

be derived from study of much larger dependencies in Africa and Asia? What, on the contrary, were the characteristics peculiar to it? On what lines could one envisage an advance towards the common end of nearly all colonies—self-government or independence?

TO understand the Samoan situation fully it seemed necessary to relate

it to a much broader context of colonial political experience. In the past, it is true, those who had written on colonial government had mainly concerned themselves with particular colonies or problems, or with the policies of a single colonial Power; and Sir George Cornewall Lewis’s excellent general treatise, An Essay on the Government of

Dependencies, which was originally published in 1841, had had no direct successor. Yet the government of dependencies and the process

of their transition to independence may properly be considered as a distinct branch of the study of politics, one in which the full understanding of specific problems and situations requires a framework of generalization.

THE COUNTRY AND THE PROBLEM 7 A dependent territory differs in its political organization both from a province or district and from a sovereign state. Unlike the former, it possesses a government exercising all normal governmental functions, not a mere subordinate governing body with limited jurisdiction. Unlike the latter, its government lacks final legislative and executive authority. It is subject, that is, to the superior

authority of the government of a metropolitan Power. The special characteristics of such a government derive from the fact of political dependency itself and from the circumstance that, nearly always (in the twentieth century, at least), the bulk of the local population is of different racial and cultural origin from the people of the metropolis. In a sovereign state, if it has had any lengthy period of independent existence, the political structure is a product of

its own history. It thus both symbolizes the tradition which that history has created and provides instrumentalities for the carrying out of a multitude of operations by methods consistent with the tradition. The actual form of political institutions, whether they are the creation of custom, of legislation, or of revolution, has been determined by

events mainly within the framework of the state. These events, of course, have marked the resolution of conflicts of a not merely political character; and they have had their counterparts in comparable events affecting the structure of other institutions of society. In other words, the institutional controls which regulate or, at times, determine the manner in which men do things together as members of the state,

of the family, of economic and religious groups, are all intimately related. Political tradition is not autonomous; it is part of a much broader social tradition. In a dependent territory the position is quite different. Indigenous tradition, guiding men’s thoughts as to what they want and what they believe is right, is embodied in the family, in the

local community, but not in the formal political structure. Government, by and large, is derived from the tradition of the metropolitan Power. But it reflects that tradition as through a distorting mirror, since the interests of the metropolis, the preconceptions and acquired attitudes of its agents, and the circumstances of the dependency itself,

set limits to the transplanting of institutions and, even more, to the cultivation of many of the conventions associated with their operation at home. Because of these last factors, the governments of most dependencies

have been relatively simple on their first establishment, both in structure and function. Their principal characteristics have generally

8 SAMOA MO SAMOA been: first, the centralization of local executive and legislative power in

the hands of a governor directly responsible to the metropolitan government; secondly, a limitation of the functions of government very largely to the maintenance of law and order and the raising of revenue; and, thirdly, the acceptance of a ‘cultural gulf’ dividing government and governed and inhibiting communication between them. In the provinces or districts into which the dependency has been divided, the executive government has usually been represented by a senior officer with broad political and administrative responsibilities— a provincial governor or district commissioner. Outside the range of

this officer’s responsibilities, and those of his direct subordinates, many matters which would be handled by constitutionally established bodies elsewhere, have been left as the responsibility of traditional authorities—that is, of ‘chiefs’ or indigenous forms of councils.

The establishment of a colonial form of government, however, is in itself usually a cause of much wider changes. It provides conditions conducive to economic development, encouragement (in most cases) for the work of Christian missions, and experience for many of the indigenous inhabitants in the ways of thought and action of the new rulers. In other words, the “cultural gulf’ between the government and the governed is gradually narrowed, so that the original structure of the government itself becomes no longer appropriate. As a result, action has commonly been taken at a fairly early stage to bring the

functions of the traditional authorities in the various provinces or districts within the sphere of the law and the constitution. This has

been done either by giving legal recognition to the traditional authorities themselves or by establishing institutions—generally local

councils and subordinate courts—based, in some degree, upon traditional models. At a somewhat later stage, legislative and executive

authority at the central government level has been progressively shared—particularly in British dependencies—with representatives of

the local population. These changes in the political structure have normally been paralleled by an expansion in governmental functions. In our own day, this expansion has nearly always included the development of extensive social services, particularly in the fields of health

and education, and the carrying out of ambitious programmes of public works.

As a consequence of these developments, the impact of government upon the people is greatly increased. In their daily lives they make use of government services and are subjected to government regulation.

THE COUNTRY AND THE PROBLEM 9 The government, in turn, makes substantial financial claims upon them in order to maintain its various activities. Yet, even at this stage,

a colonial government remains largely alien. Final authority still rests with the metropolitan Power. The governor is, and is seen as, its agent, not (like a king or president in a sovereign state) as a symbol of internal unity. In many cases, his authority is still directly repre-

sented at the local level by provincial commissioners and district officers. In the various departments of the central administration expatriate officers still occupy many positions of responsibility. Even a relatively advanced and progressive type of colonial government is, thus, significantly paternalistic in its methods: it is not organized to facilitate a quick and sensitive response to local demands.

Constitutional reforms, within the framework of political dependency, therefore, always lack permanency. Their success is to be

measured in relation to their provision of a workable system of government for the time being and to the extent to which they prepare the way for a further advance towards the final objective— independence, or internal self-government, or, in a few cases, incorporation in some larger political unit. In normal circumstances they will fairly quickly be exposed to criticism, since, by providing opportunities for increased political experience, they will stimulate a demand for further reforms. Indeed, acquiescence in the status quo is, in itself, a sign of failure—and of future danger. It most frequently indicates— for example, in colonies (such as Fiji) where internal divisions have been constitutionally recognized and encouraged—that a solution to

political problems may eventually be sought through non-constitutional channels.

But the orderly advancement of a dependency to self-government

presents problems of very great complexity, for the problems of political transition, which are difficult enough, nearly always have to

be considered in relation to much broader problems of social and economic transition. It is for this reason that colonies have most commonly approached their objective through a series of crises. At the final stage, colonial Powers have most often been forced into acting precipitately, without time for adequate consideration or planning, or worse still have withdrawn in the face of revolutionary or near-revolutionary conditions. This is the final failure of colonial rule, the initial burden of many newly independent states.

IO SAMOA MO SAMOA WESTERN SAMOA lies between 13° and 15° south latitude and 171° and 173° west longitude. It comprises the two large islands of Upolu and Savai’i, the smaller islands of Manono and Apolima, and several islets adjacent to their coasts. Its land area is about 1,130 square miles.

To the south-east of Upolu, and separated from it by fifty miles of sea, is Tutuila, the principal island of the much smaller territory of American Samoa.

In 1947 Western Samoa had a population of about 71,000, which was increasing at the extremely rapid rate of three per cent. a year. A little over ninety-two per cent. of this total was made up of persons legally classified as Samoans. The remainder consisted of persons of European legal status, of whom all but a few hundred were partly of Samoan descent. Between 8,000 and 10,000 people lived in the town of Apia and its environs. Of the remainder the great majority lived in

villages, mainly on the coast, and a much smaller number on commercial plantations.®

The economy was an agricultural one. The country was almost entirely dependent for overseas funds on the export of copra, cocoa, bananas, and desiccated coconut, which had been valued in 1946 at

£341,000, £207,000, £86,000, and £'50,000 respectively. Total exports in that year, valued at £719,000, had represented just over £10 a head. Local agricultural production and fishing provided a large

proportion of necessary foodstuffs. In terms of per capita income, Samoa ranked with parts of the Mediterranean world—Portugal, southern Italy, and Greece—and with much of Latin America, rather than with the poorer countries of Asia and Africa. In terms of welfare,

it stood somewhat higher. The tropical climate, with its minimal changes in temperature, made heavy expenditure on clothes or housing unnecessary. Hours of work were low. Health conditions were good. And literacy was almost universal. Since 1914 Western Samoa had been administered by New Zealand. In December 1946 it had been placed, as a former Mandated Territory, under United Nations trusteeship. Its system of government was not dissimilar in outline to that existing at the time in many British crown

colonies. Executive authority was entrusted to an Administrator, appointed by the Governor-General of New Zealand and responsible to the New Zealand Minister of Island Territories. Legislative power

was vested in the Administrator and a Legislative Council acting

together. The council was composed of the Administrator (as president), six official members, four Samoan members, and two

THE COUNTRY AND THE PROBLEM II members elected under universal suffrage by the European community. Further provision was made for consulting Samoan opinion

in matters of primarily Samoan concern. The title of Fautua was held by three of the tama’diga (or ‘royal sons’), Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole, Malictoa Tanumafili II, and Mata’afa Faumuina Fiamé Mulinu’G, which constituted them advisers to the Administrator, though without any specific duties. In addition, contact was maintained between the administration and the people of the villages through an advisory council, the Fono of Faipule. This body, whose members were elected by the matai (titled heads of families) in the various districts, submitted nominations for certain offices, including those of the Samoan legislative councillors, and advised the Administrator generally on matters of public interest.

But, in certain important respects, the administration differed from the British colonial model. The public service was under the control, not of any authority in Samoa, but of the New Zealand Public Service Commission, which had to approve of appointments and salary increases even for local recruits. Moreover, New Zealand, unlike the United Kingdom, had not sought to build up a corps of men trained and experienced in the problems of colonial administration. Most expatriate officers were merely on short-term secondment from the New Zealand public service, with the result that they failed to gain an adequate understanding of Samoan conditions. And the abler of the locally-recruited officers were difficult to hold, since the New

Zealand authorities were dilatory in approving promotions and uninterested in providing training. Similarly, the administration was unusual in that there was no formal system of local government and that the activities of the central administration in the ‘outside districts’ were minimal. The traditional fono still controlled most matters in the districts and villages, on the basis of custom and without any legal standing. Of even greater importance than these differences of formal structure, however, were peculiarities in the manner in which the political

machinery was operated. Both in Wellington and in Apia, officials viewed the delegation of authority and the assumption of responsibility with almost equal alarm. Although the Administrator was vested with executive control, he had no formal instructions defining its scope and no group of associates who were formally charged with

advising him in its exercise. When the holder of the office at that time, Lieutenant-Colonel Francis William Voelcker—a man of

2 SAMOA MO SAMOA considerable strength of purpose—had first assumed duty in the previous year, he had found himself restricted by a convention of referring even the most trifling matters to Wellington for decision. And in Wellington departmental officials, hampered by limited knowledge, commonly showed more talent in the art of procrastination than in the formulation of policy or the solution of problems. This ineffectiveness in respect of executive action was paralleled by similar shortcomings in the legislative sphere. The Legislative Council had been at a disadvantage from its first establishment. The Samoa Act of 1921, which had conferred a constitution on the territory, had also provided a code of private law; and on all matters dealt with in the Act the council lacked competence to legislate. Further, however, the practice had grown up of by-passing the council and legislating for Samoa by New Zealand order in council. Even when it was decided that a law should be enacted locally, there was no real perception of the

fact that the views of the minority of unofficial members should be taken seriously: the official vote was used to ensure that government measures were passed with little or no amendment. It is thus no matter

for surprise that Samoans and local Europeans did not regard the council as a genuine organ of representative government. This was the position in 1947. The leaders of a proud and politically

capable people had little influence, and no authority, in matters of government. The officers of the Administration were—with a few exceptions—contentedly imprisoned in a network of sterile routine. The New Zealand government, although its intentions were good, had become the parent of a spiritless, and almost aimless, policy. Yet

fifteen years later Western Samoa became a sovereign state. The transition was achieved without the accompaniment of political tension or breakdown; and, in common expectation, the country faced a future of progressive and stable government. The full understanding of the Independent State of Western Samoa, and of the manner of its emergence, requires a study of its background —of the characteristics of Samoan society, of the impact upon it of the

West, and of the attitudes and actions of those who guided the country’s development during the fruitful years between 1947 and 1962.

Political History to 1946

2 THE TRADITIONAL POLITY HE Samoans are Polynesians. And the name by which their

“Tous was once known to Europeans, the Navigator Islands, reflects the early history of the Polynesian people as a whole. Polynesians settled the islands within a vast triangle in the Pacific stretching

from Hawaii in the north to Easter Island in the east and to New Zealand in the south-west, penetrated the eastern islands of Fiji, and established isolated communities, such as those of Tikopia and Sikaiana, still farther west, within the broad confines of Melanesia. Physically, the

Polynesians are a brown-skinned people, with straight or wavy hair, generally tall and solidly built; and similarities of material culture, of language, of tradition, and of social structure provide further evidence of their common origin. The character and the time-scale of Polynesian migration are still subjects of investigation and debate.’ But it has been firmly established

that Samoa was one of the earlier regions of settlement and has been

continuously inhabited for at least two thousand years. This long period of residence, of constant intercourse within the island group, and of relative isolation from the outside world was sufficient for the emergence of a culture possessing an over-all, general uniformity but differing markedly from that of any other part of Polynesia. Intermittent contact was maintained with Tonga, with Fiji, with Uvea and Futuna, and with the Tokelau Islands; and some knowledge existed of more distant parts of Polynesia. The visits of European explorers to neighbouring groups seem to have become known by the seventeenth century; and in June 1722 the eastern islands of Samoa itself were visited by the ships of the Dutch expedition under Jacob Roggeveen. These contacts had some effect upon Samoan culture; and leading families in Samoa, Tonga and Fiji had intermarried. But they seem mainly to have contributed to the Samoans’ consciousness

of their own identity as a people. When contact with the outside world increased in more recent times, this consciousness was intensified. In 1870 a Roman Catholic priest described the Samoans as a people ‘who contain the universe in their archipelago’. And over half T5

16 SAMOA MO SAMOA a century later, according to Sir Peter Buck, an orator of Manu’a rejected his statement that the original Samoans were immigrants: ‘We thank you for your interesting speech’, the orator said. “The Polynesians may have come from Asia, but the Samoans, no. We originated in Samoa.”

accounts of the traditional polity of Samoa by early scholars delineate

its main outlines with clarity; but in their handling of much of the detail—of structure and, even more, of purpose—they are often deficient, as a consequence both of changes in it resulting from the arrival of Europeans and of the preconceptions of the observers themselves. The pictures that they present resemble, in a sense, paintings by ‘old masters’ in which the finer points of draughtsmanship

and the original colours have been overlaid by successive coats of varnish. The contemporary student, like the restorer, is faced with the task of stripping away extraneous accretions and of retouching what remains in a manner that he believes consistent with the structure and

spirit of the original reality. The authenticity of the result must remain unproven; but it is possible to get no nearer to the prehistoric past of a Polynesian society.

Political organization in Samoa, as in Polynesia generally, was based on ties of kinship and of locality. In political action, whether it related to the punishment of an offender, the promulgation of a village regulation, or the waging of a war, the rights and obligations deriving from these two sets of ties were inextricably interwoven. The standing of an individual within a village or district depended upon his position within his family, and the latter could, in turn, be affected by a village or district decision. The structure of authority within territorial units, and the character of the relationships between them, derived from the network of ties between their constituent lineages. The basic territorial unit of political, as of economic, organization

was the nu'u, or village.* Topographically, the boundaries of each village were defined by reference to natural features such as streams, rocky knolls, and the watersheds of mountain ranges, or sometimes, where these were not available, by the building of stone walls. Settlement was mainly on, or fairly close to, the coast, though there were * Nw’u is usually translated as ‘village’ and will be so translated in this book. A

nu’u is, however, more nearly akin to an English administrative parish: it may contain one or more ‘hamlets’ (or settlements).

THE TRADITIONAL POLITY 17 some inland villages. Most commonly, settlement consisted of a single village cluster; but, in other cases, there were several separate pitonu’u,

or sub-villages. In either event, the village or sub-village was composed of a series of family homesteads—each consisting of several buildings—facing a central malae, or village green. Behind the settle-

ment were the village plantations. Behind them again there was uncultivated forest. These forest areas were not without domestic importance (for example, for the trapping of pigeons); but they were

valued primarily in relation to the maintenance of the village’s territorial authority. Socially, each village was defined by its fa’alupega, which contained a highly formalized greeting of its principal matai. The correct place

and dignity were accorded to each; and the relationship of local matai titles to the broader lineage structure of Samoa was made explicit. The possession of such a _fa’alupega was, in effect, the required

demonstration of a particular village’s autonomy. It provided a conventionalized record of the village’s history, in terms of kinship and social status, and defined the constitution of its fono. The appropriate fa alupega were recited on all formal occasions, such as meetings of the fono or the reception of guests from another village; and it was

the pride and duty of the orators to know them for the whole of Samoa.* The individual households composing the village community were each headed by a matai, who possessed authority over its members and

regulated their activities, whether of agriculture or fishing, or of the reception of guests. Family resources were similarly distributed under his direction. These functions were not performed, however, where the tradition was observed, by simple dictation but after consultation, a practice that was highly developed in Samoan society at every level. At the earliest period for which records exist, the second quarter of the nineteenth century, households averaged from eight to twelve members. In addition to the matai and his wife, they generally included his unmarried children and any untitled brothers or married sons and their immediate families; and they might also include remoter kinsmen. A daughter, on marriage, normally resided with her husband’s family; but the reverse situation sometimes occurred. For certain activities the household drew on the services of outsiders. * The task of the modern orator in Western Samoa has been simplified by the collection and publication of the fa’alupega in O le Tusi Faalupega 0 Samoa (new ed., Malua, Western Samoa, 1958).

18 SAMOA MO SAMOA If a permanent house was to be built, for example, a skilled carpenter

would be employed to direct operations. Such houses were of two types: the fale tele, a round house, customarily used for the reception of guests and the holding of meetings; and the fale afolau,a house with

straight sides and curved ends. Both types of house required the exercise of trained and careful judgement in the selection, preparation and erection of the materials, it the proportions and general quality of the building were to conform to traditional canons of excellence and if its strength were to be sufficient for it to survive the strongest gales of the wet season. The remuneration of the carpenter in charge of its construction required the accumulation of a surplus both of food and of articles of high ceremonial importance, such as siapo (bark cloth) and ’ie toga (fine mats).

Other activities involved co-operation on a village-wide basis. For such purposes the people were organized in groups that cut across the individual households. The most important of these was the fono composed of the matai, which undertook the general government of the community. But all the other inhabitants, apart from the

children, had their position similarly defined. The untitled men belonged to the ’aumaga; the women who were members of local families by birth or adoption, apart from any who were married to men of the village, to the aualuma;* and the wives of matai to the potopotoga o faletua ma tausi. The wives of untitled men formed a less

clearly defined group, which assisted, and sometimes met with, the faletua ma tausi. Each of these groups had its recognized position within the community, its network of rights and obligations. The ’aumaga, for example, undertook the heavy manual work for village purposes. It felled the forest, kept paths and other communal facilities in good order, and fished as a group when any occasion, such as the reception of guests by the village, required a combined effort.

But its leader was commonly consulted by the fono about the performance of these tasks, not merely given instructions; and its members * Pratt’s Grammar & Dictionary of the Samoan Language (fourth edition, reprinted, Malua, Western Samoa, 1960) defines aualuma as ‘a company of single ladies’. This fairly accurately reflects the position in practice, since married women with husbands were excluded—by absence from the village or membership of married women’s groups—and widows and divorced women, who were

members, played little part in aualuma activities. But the basic criterion of eligibility was membership of a local ’diga, not that of being ‘a single lady’. The contents of the faalupega have not remained constant. Political changes

and divisions have been reflected in alterations to them, some temporary and others lasting.

THE TRADITIONAL POLITY 19 had a right to sit quietly listening to discussions in the fono, in part, so

that they might assist in the serving of kava and in other ways but, in part also, that they might learn the ways of government and the conventions of debate from their elders. When important guests were to be recetved—an occasion generally

of some political significance—the energies of all the groups were engaged in the elaborate arrangements for their reception and entertainment, for the conventions of diplomacy were highly developed even at an inter-village level.

Providing authority for all these activities was the fono, as the governing body of the village. Its structure and conventions reflected both the general characteristics of Samoan society and the particular

characteristics of the individual village. Its members, the matai, possessed the status of ali’i (chief) or tuldfale (orator). (In certain villages

there were titles—always of considerable importance—which combined the two. The holders of these latter were known as tulafale ali’i, or orator-chiefs.) In relation to the affairs of their own families, matai had the same responsibilities whether they were chiefs or orators; but in the fono and in public affairs generally the functions of the two groups were complementary. The chief was the titular leader, the ultimate repository of authority. The orator was the executive agent, who performed for the chief a variety of duties which it was contrary to propriety for the chief to perform for himself. The orator was the

repository of genealogical knowledge, of history and legend; he made formal speeches on behalf of the chief with whom his particular

title associated him or on behalf of the village; he organized the ceremonial distribution of food; and he acted as master of ceremonies

when a chief’s title was being bestowed. The relative influence of chiefs and orators differed from place to place: it depended upon the genealogical structure, upon time and circumstance, and upon person-

ality. But the differences of function between the two groups was a constant factor.

At a meeting of the fono, the members’ seating positions were determined in accordance with the importance of the matai title which

each held. The leading title-holders sat in front of particular posts; the others occupied the spaces between. This order also determined the right to speak. When a matai of high title expressed an opinion, those of lesser standing could not with propriety dissent. However, since a large proportion of villages possessed several titles of higher standing

than the rest, this convention did not commonly tend towards the

20 SAMOA MO SAMOA creation of autocracy. Moreover, the Samoan conception of the leader as a spokesman for, and representative of, the group had created the

habit of informal consultation; and, even where this procedure was not used effectively, the Samoan convention of debate permitted attitudes to be made clear without the open expression of disagreement. The relative rigidity of the social structure and of its formal expression

in the structure of the fono was thus much mitigated in practice.

A meeting was always begun with the serving of kava. This ceremony was presided over by an orator, who would call out the order in which the members were to be served. In performing this duty a subtle sense of judgement was called for. The standing of each

title was the most important determinant; but more personal and evanescent circumstances often suggested variations on a particular occasion. In this way, as by the respectful manner in which the actual serving was carried out by members of the ’aumaga, a suitable atmosphere was created for the discussion that followed. During the meeting matters of general interest or concern would be discussed; regulations regarding the conduct of village affairs would be made; and decisions would be reached as to the punishment of offenders. A predominant concern of the fono was the mitigation of friction between the families making up the village community. For that reason an assault on a matai or an attempt to seduce his wife was treated as a more serious offence than a similar act against a person of lesser consequence. Because of the matai’s position, an offence affecting

him affected the position also of those under his authority and endangered relations not only between the families of the victim and the

offender but between other families to whom they were related. Various forms of physically degrading or humiliating punishments were imposed for serious offences, and murderers and adulterers were often sentenced to death. But the most common form of penalty was

a fine payable in foodstuffs levied upon the family of the offender. In some cases, a ceremonial apology—or act of submission—would also be required. If a matai refused to carry out the full terms of a decision of the fono that affected him, he and his family would be banished from the village. This act, intended to avoid continuing dissidence in the village, would

be accompanied by some destruction of houses and crops; but it imposed greater humiliation than physical hardship upon those exposed to it. The dissident family would take up temporary residence with kinsfolk elsewhere. Absence allowed the passions aroused by the

THE TRADITIONAL POLITY 21 dispute to die down. After an interval the banished matai and his family would generally return and offer an apology and a gift of food to the fono. If these were accepted, they would resume their position, and past difficulties would be ignored. On occasion, however, a serious dispute might involve a number of families which would refuse to leave their homes. This situation,

of course, created the possibility of violence and the certainty of prolonged ill-will. The normal outcome was an administrative and social splitting of the village. The dissident section would maintain its own fono; and, to the extent that physical and other factors permitted, the community would function as two villages till the split was healed.

In these ways, therefore, Samoan society provided for the maintenance of law and order and of social integration at the village level. The system was a sophisticated one, which provided channels for the attainment of personal satisfaction by the participants as well as

procedures for the maintenance of social and political stability. Structural rigidity and operational flexibility were effectively combined.

Behind these procedures, and providing much of the foundation of unity or of discord in the village community, were the fundamental

facts of genealogy. These were carefully passed from generation to

generation in every family. When they reached beyond the few conventionalized references in the fa’alupega, the details of genealogies

tended to become controversial—at times, explosively so. For this reason, they were not a matter for public discussion; but, for the same reason, an adequate knowledge of them was the most important key to an understanding of the balance of power in village politics and of the means to be used in attempting to change it. At the higher levels of Samoan politics the importance of genealogies

was even greater. In the villages the routine of day-to-day admin-

istration formed conventions of its own; and the regularity and frequency of meetings between the matai assisted the formation of a consensus. But these retraints were largely absent from the politics

of sub-districts and districts and, even more, from the politics of Samoa as a whole. At these higher levels, political activity was largely concerned with ceremonial, with the advancement of the interests of major family groups, with the settlement of disputes between factions or local groups (such as villages), and with the formation of alliances in times of war, actual or potential. Existing family connections were B

22 SAMOA MO SAMOA exploited without inhibition; and the creation of useful new ones, through the arrangement of marriages, had major political significance.

An understanding of the structure of particular families, and of their connections with other families, was thus an essential requisite to effective participation in politics beyond the village level. The individual family, or ’diga, was a group claiming descent from a common ancestor. It possessed a name, a matai title to be held by its head, and lands that were passed down from generation to generation. In the course of time, families increased in numbers, developed internal tensions, or gained interests in several different village communities. These developments led to the creation of new matai titles for the separate branches into which the family divided, in some cases with the holder of the original title retaining some over-all authority, or to the holding of the original title by several persons concurrently. Where the branches of a family were established in different villages, the holder of the senior title inevitably ceased to have any control in ordinary matters over his geographically dispersed ‘diga. He did, however, possess an added standing—important in political matters— to the extent to which the seniority of his title was recognized. But, as generations passed, conflicting claims to seniority tended to develop. The form in which the genealogy was expounded in one branch came

to differ from that in which it was expounded in others. On some occasions, the ties linking together the members of the original ’diga

might still be invoked for political purposes; but, on others, the branches might act as separate families and find their associates through

other connections that they had acquired. The character of Samoan social structure, and the complexity of Samoan politics, can only be understood in relation to these processes of progressive segmentation and of consolidation through the creation of new family linkages.

The combined effect of these two processes was to create a considerable range of choice for any group in relation to any particular situation. The right of electing a matai was, in most cases, vested in the family as a whole. This group included both members by descent and persons

connected with the family by marriage or adoption who were living as members of it. In practice, however, kinsmen living in another

village and not participating in the affairs of the family were not usually expected to take part in the discussions. In reaching their decision the members of the family would bear certain customary considerations in mind. The eldest surviving brother of the previous

THE TRADITIONAL POLITY 23 holder was entitled to special consideration. Also to be taken seriously

was a declaration by the previous holder before his death as to who should be his successor. But, fundamentally, the members were free

to make their own choice. In doing so they were primarily concerned with ensuring the amicable and effective control of the family’s

affairs and with the maintenance of its standing in the community. Special attention was paid to a candidate’s past record. If he had shown loyalty to the family and faithfully served the previous matai,

his suitability on other grounds, such as age and ability, merited consideration. If he failed in these respects—perhaps through prolonged

absence from the village—no other qualifications could ordinarily compensate for the deficiency.* The family’s final choice was most likely to fall on a close relative of the previous matai; but sometimes a

remote kinsman would be chosen and occasionally a man unrelated to the family by blood. When the family had reached its decision, this required confirmation by the fono of the village in which the title was held. The ceremony in which this action was embodied was treated with care and solemnity. The new matai was welcomed with speeches

which referred respectfully to the genealogy of his family; he was served with kava for the first time; and he and his family provided a lavish feast. When the ceremony was completed, he assumed his position as one of the governors of the village. The family was thus a non-local group, structurally, including all persons descended through either males or females from a common ancestor; but, functionally, it was in many respects a local unit, since

it held land and a matai title in a particular place and those of its members who lived directly under the authority of the matai normally controlled the choice of his successor. Characteristically, however,

the domination of the local element was by no means complete. Samoan culture recognized a special relationship between brother and

sister. Brothers had an obligation to consider the interests of their sisters and their sisters’ children. Sisters were held to have the power of cursing their brothers and their descendants if this obligation were neglected. This relationship was not lost, in principle, with the passage of generations, though, in practice, it became less potent; and members of an “diga who were related to it through a female were recognized as a special group, the tama fafine. This group could exercise great influence, through the power of veto, on family decisions regarding * In elections to higher—i.e., district or tama’ diga—titles, these considerations were less relevant. In such cases, descent was of overriding importance.

24 SAMOA MO SAMOA the choice of a matai or the alienation of property. Sometimes a new branch of a family, with its own matai title, would be created in the tama fafine line. As a woman normally moved on marriage to her husband’s village, this recognition of the role of the tama fafine meant that an “diga had members widely scattered through the villages of Samoa. Tama fafine connections provided an ambitious chief and the orator, or orators, associated with him with a wide range of oppor-

tunities for the exercise of influence or the acquisition of support when a specific objective made either of these desirable. In structure, the larger political units—the sub-district, the district, and the whole of Samoa*—resembled the individual village, in that, at each level, there was an appropriate fa’alupega and fono. In function,

however, as has been mentioned, they differed widely, since these larger units had little concern with the routine matters of day-to-day administration.

The sub-district consisted of a group of villages, which were nearly always contiguous. Many sub-districts had their origin in a single village community which, with the growth of the population, the segmentation of ‘diga, and the dispersion of settlement, had split

into a number of autonomous villages. A sub-district normally gained some degree of unity from the dominant position of a major lineage, represented by one or more senior titles, and from the associa~ tion of particular orators with its leading chiefs. But the actual degree

of such unity differed from place to place and from time to time. In some sub-districts more than one major lineage was represented by the holder of a senior title. At times sub-district boundaries were extended, as a result of war, with a consequent increase—in the long run—of divisive tendencies. At some times the orators were less able than at others in maintaining the position of the principal chiefs. In so far as a sub-district was able to function as an effective unit, its organization was used for the conduct of relations with wider groupings and for the support of the maximal lineage with which its dominant chiefs

were identified. In particular, it gained importance in times of war. Then, certain sub-districts had traditional roles to perform on behalf of the districts or lineages with which they were associated. Some were * In reference to ‘the whole of Samoa’ in the remainder of this chapter, I am excluding Manu’a, since it had no concern with the kingship or with Tamua and Pule. The island of Tutuila formed part of the district of Atua, of which the main part was in Upolu; but, in practice, it was little concerned with the affairs of the rest of the district.

THE TRADITIONAL POLITY 25 expected to be the spear-head of attack either by land or by sea; others were relied on in matters of divination and augury. More generally, the sub-districts functioned as units at such times in the formation or renewal of alliances. At the district level Samoan politics became increasingly complex. The districts themselves had boundaries and recognized political centres or capitals. But, in the absence of continuing administrative functions, the conventions of government represented a combination of the interests and relationships of maximal lineages, the heritage of

past wars, and the political skill of important orator groups. The working out of these factors had produced considerable differences between one district and another. Further, the Samoa-wide ramification of the maximal lineage was a factor which cut across the cohesive forces of the district as a territorial unit. Like many important English families—such as the Cavendishes and the Russells—the great families of Samoa had branches, with land and titles, in a number of districts, so that, through the pressures of the net of kinship, the affairs of one district were affected by desires or demands from many parts of the country. In Upolu the districts of A’ana and Atua—at the western and eastern

ends of the island, respectively—had a form of organization that, in its origins, was of great antiquity. The ‘royal’ titles of Tuia’ana and Tuiatua were, indeed, considered as of divine origin. The bestowal of them was vested in important orator groups residing at the political centres of the two districts, though, in each case, these electors were required to consult certain important communities or chiefs in other parts of the district before making their choice. In A’ana the political

centre was Leulumoega, which was not only the residence of the sroup of orators but the seat of the Tuia’ana himself. In Atua it was Lufilufi that had similar functions. In both cases, effective candidacy

for the title rested with branches of the Sa Tupua. As a family, Sa Tupua was not of ancient origin. But, through its connections with other great families and the success of many of its leaders in war and politics, it had come to possess a standing and a power to command

wealth (particularly in the form of fine mats) that ensured its preeminence in both districts.

Election as Tuia’ana or Tuiatua represented the attainment of almost supreme dignity and the right to service and deference of a highly formalized kind. Traditionally, it involved also the role of leadership in time of war. But it carried with it very little power over

26 SAMOA MO SAMOA the internal affairs of the district. Matters such as disputes between factions or village communities were dealt with—where resort to

violence was avoided—by other means. On these occasions the orators of Leulumoega of Lufilufi, as the case might be, would send out messengers to summon a fono of district representatives. Or, if war was being prepared for, a more limited group would be summoned. In ways like these, and in defending and advancing the family interests

of the ‘royal’ title-holders, the orator groups of Leulumoega and Lufilufi built up their own positions. In Tuamasaga, which occupied the central part of Upolu, between A’ana and Atua, the second ‘royal’ lineage, Sa Malietoa, had its base. The Malietoa title was less ancient than those of Tuia’ana and Tuiatua: but over the centuries holders of it had established connections of importance, principally through the marriage of their daughters, in many parts of Samoa. In particular, they had established a second home

at Sapapalii, in the district of Fa’asaleleaga in Savai’i, had created a powerful centre of family influence in a sub-district of A’ana based on the small island of Manono, and had won valuable support in the sub-district of Falealili and, to a lesser extent, in other parts of Atua. Manono and the other areas associated with it, given by the Malietoa the name ’Aiga-i-le-Tai (family in the sea), had been detached from

their original allegiance and constituted a separate district. The bestowal of the Malietoa title, which had originally been vested solely in the orator group at Malie, in Tuamasaga, consequently required consultation with Manono and with the orator group at Safotulafai, the political centre of Fa’asaleleaga. As with the titles of Tuia ana and Tuiatua, that of Malietoa did not carry with it effective control over the internal affairs of Tuamasaga. For that purpose a district fono met, in response to messages sent out by the orator groups of Malie and the neighbouring village of Afega. Two titles of national

significance, Gatoaitele and Tamasoalii, were also bestowed by orator groups in Tuamasaga, those of Afega and Safata, respectively. Access to the dignity that pertained to them was through connection with Si Malietoa; and, as with the Malietoa title itself, an election to either of them required prior consultation with the various branches of the family. The orator groups of Leulumoega and Lufilufi were known collect-

ively as Tumua. Together with the groups at Malie and Afega and with similar groups in Savai'i, which were known collectively as Pule, they constituted the dominant influence in Samoan politics at

THE TRADITIONAL POLITY 27 the higher levels.* These groups of orators manipulated the elections to the most important chiefly titles and acted as the spokesmen and

executants of the titular rulers. They were the acknowledged authorities on genealogy, history and tradition. Their political influence was constant and pervasive.

In Savai’i political organization was even more complex than in

Upolu. There were six districts: Fa’asaleleaga, in the east; Gaga’emauga, Gagaifomauga and Vaisigano, in the north and west (known collectively as the Itti-o-Taoa); and Palauli and Satupa’itea in the south (known collectively as the Iti-o-Fa’atoafe). Each of these possessed a political centre controlled by a group of orators. The orators of Safotulafai, the political centre of Fa’asaleleaga, and Saleaula,

that of Gaga’emauga, constituted Pule. The former of these groups was the more important and, to some extent, spoke for the whole of Savaii. The other four centres—Safotu, Asau, Palauli and Satupa‘itea —possessed a status that was clearly established in relation to their own districts and given limited recognition by Pule. When military alliances were being organized, for example, a party of orators from Safotulafai would visit Palauli and Satupa’itea, and one from Saleaula would go to Safotu and Asau; and orators from these centres would then visit the individual villages of their districts. Compared with the districts of Upolu, those of Savai'i were more completely centred upon the groups of orators; the position of the chiefs was less clearly embodied in the formal political structure. But, as in Upolu, the influence

of the great families permeated political activity. Those which controlled the ancient titles of Tonumaipe’a, Lilomaiava and Tagaloa possessed an influence that cut across the boundaries of the political districts. Sa Tupua had connections in Savai'i, particularly at Asau, in Vaisigano. And the establishment of $4 Malietoa in Fa’asaleleaga was of special significance, on account of the dominant position of the orators of Safotulafai.t * Subsequently, the term “Titimua’ came to be used by Samoans to refer to the orator groups at Malie and Afega, as well as to those at Leulumoega and Lufilufi. In this chapter and the two succeeding ones, the term is used in this broader sense, except where the context gives it a different meaning. During the present century, the meaning of the term has been further broadened (see Glossary, 434, below).

t In the nineteenth century the Itt-o-T4oa came to be called the Iti-o-Tane (side of men) and the Itt-o-Fa’atoafe the Itti-o-Fafine (side of women), in reference to the alleged bravery and cowardice of the men of the two regions, respectively, in a war against A’ana in 1830. Towards the end of the century a basic change was made in the structure of Pule (see, 74, below).

28 SAMOA MO SAMOA The character of district organization reveals the factors which were significant also at the national level. In internal matters the districts

proceeded by discussion. A formal—or apparent—unanimity was necessary, as in all types of fono, for the reaching of a decision. And, when such a decision was reached, its peaceful implementation re-

quired the co-operation of those concerned, since nothing like a district police force existed. It was only in relation to the conduct of a war that the great chiefs—such as the Tuia’ana or Malietoa—functioned as the active leaders of their districts; and even then, as has been seen,

lineage ties might lead a sub-district or a village to defect. At the national level the threat of external aggression did not exist as a unifying factor after the defeat of Tongan invaders, which is generally placed at about the end of the thirteenth century; and it was after this period that the Samoan constitution took the shape that it possessed

at the beginning of the European age. The politics of the whole of Samoa were conducted, therefore, in terms of discussion, of the seeking and conferring of dignity, and of the advancement of the maximal lineages.

For a discussion of any problem involving the whole country a fono would be convened at Leulumoega, in A’ana. Responsibility for assembling such a gathering and for acting as spokesman when it met rested with Timua and Pule. Though these groups of orators possessed

great influence, rivalries between districts and between families commonly created divisions insoluble by negotiation. When war resulted, the most usual alignment was of most of A’ana and Atua on the one side and most of Tuamasaga and Savai’i on the other. The influence of Sa Tupua and the orator groups associated with it was the

main factor bringing A’ana and Atua together. On the other side, the influence of Safotulafai in the whole of Savai'i and its connection with Sa Malieto4 created the alignment with Tuamasaga. An alliance which gained a temporary ascendancy was known as the mdld. It used its victory to acquire and create honours, to confiscate lands, and to humiliate its opponents. A frequent cause of war, and perhaps the supreme prize of victory, was the conferring of the dignity of tafa’ifa, the position of tupu (or king) of Samoa. To become tafa’ifa a chief had to acquire the four titles of Tuia’ana, Tuiatua, Gatoaitele and Tamasoali’i. Genealogically, the holding of the principal titles of A’ana, Atua and Tuamasaga by one person presented no peculiar difficulties, since the leading families were so intricately related that a strong claimant to any of them was

THE TRADITIONAL POLITY 29 bound to possess some claim to the others. And the personal distinction necessary to give substance to one claim was equally applicable to all.

Politically, however, the attainment and retention of the four titles was fraught with difficulties. The distinction gained by one chief represented a diminution in that of his rivals. If an outstanding leader was successful in gaining the status of tafa’ifa and of retaining it, he was certain to make an attempt to secure the succession to it of a member of his family. For this purpose he would make a solemn declaration before he died that his chosen candidate should be elected to each of the four constituent titles. But the transmission of titles of

such importance from one person to another by this means was always unacceptable to rivals, of whom there were necessarily a number. Consequently, the status of tafa’ifa was seldom, if ever, firmly gained except as a result of victory in war; and for long periods

it was possessed by none. To a chief who did become tafa’ifa, the position brought a ceremonial supremacy, which benefited also the standing of those associated with him; but the power that went with it, though perhaps great on some occasions, was never securely held.

In the circumstances of Samoa, there were few things of a nonhonorific kind that could be done at the national level; and those few were things that could be done only by discussion, under the aegis of Timua and Pule.

SAMOAN political structure and activity thus showed certain common

characteristics from the village to the national level. Decisions were reached through discussion in council. The structure of these councils paid exact regard to the status of their various members. But, though certain members and the opinions they expressed had to be treated with special deference, the consent of the remainder was necessary before a

decision was taken; and behind the formal meetings normally lay a

multitude of informal discussions. The individual authority of a dominant chief came to the fore only in times of war, when the slowness of conciliar proceedings made them inappropriate. In these ways, the dignity and status of all were safeguarded, and a limit was set to the capacity of the strong and ambitious to increase their power. These characteristics were not confined to the political sphere but

permeated the whole of Samoan society. The elective character of succession to a matai title and the convention of discussion of important

30 SAMOA MO SAMOA matters between a matai and his family similarly preserved status and

dignity. Samoa contained no proletariat, none who could not take pride in their family connections, none who in youth could not look forward to the possibility of occupying a responsible position later in life. Samoan society protected self-respect.

This is, of course, an ideal picture. If the Samoans possessed self-

respect, they were also, in Thomas Hobbes’s phrase, ‘children of pride’. Lacking an effective central government ‘to keep them in awe’,

they frequently resorted to war or private violence in the pursuit of their ambitions. Preoccupation with status and dignity went hand in hand with a low level of personal security. And many individual Samoans sought to override the social conventions. Some matai oppressed their families; some influential orators

used their knowledge and their skill in negotiation to advance their own interests, rather than in the service of their chiefs; some great chiefs used tyrannically the opportunities war provided. In the short term, order was subverted, hardship and suffering inflicted. But, in the long run, the conventions were reasserted. An oppressive matai found the members of his family taking up residence with kinsmen elsewhere; a tyrannical political leader found his supporters switching their allegiance. Samoan society provided adequate safeguard against

an undue aggregation of power in the hands of any individual. But, in another way, the balance of influence in Samoa was always in a state of flux. The standing of a Samoan depended not only upon that of his father but also upon that of his mother. A series of suitable marriages could thus greatly increase the influence of a family. The personal talent of a matai, too, particularly as displayed in war, could raise the status of his family. Restraints upon the growth of personal power were thus partly counteracted by the changing balance within the lineage structure.

Politically, these various factors interacted at the level of village government to create a system that combined stability and flexibility. At the national level, on the other hand, where the lineage interests involved were far more important and the necessities of day-to-day administration were wholly absent, they effectively prevented the growth of a strong and stable central government. Till the nineteenth century this situation had its advantages, as well as its disadvantages; but, since the establishment of continuous contact with the outside world, circumstances have forced upon the Samoans a radical transformation of the higher levels of their political structure.

3 THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 N July 1830 the Messenger of Peace, carrying the Reverend John

[ witigms and a party of Polynesian mission teachers, anchored off Sapapali’i, the home of Sa Malietoa in the Fa’asaleleaga district of Savai’i. This event marked the end of an age. No longer would relationships between Samoans be judged solely in terms of indigenous tradition or the issues of Samoan politics be resolved completely within the framework of the ancient political structure. From this time the beliefs, the knowledge and the industrial achievements of the Western world increasingly influenced Samoan thought and action, and the men who were the principal agents of their introduction—missionaries, settlers, and representatives of Western governments—became increasingly important participants in Samoan life.1 Since the end of the eighteenth century Europeans had been active

in many parts of the Pacific. The London Missionary Society,* with which John Williams was associated, had begun work in Tahiti in 1797; and in 1815 and the years immediately following there had been a mass conversion to Christianity both in Tahiti and the remaining islands of the Society group. This success in the Society Islands had been followed by the extension of the work of the L.M.S. to the Australs and the Cook Islands early in the 1820s. American Protestant missionaries had settled in Hawaii in 1820; and in 1822 the English Wesleyan Methodist Missionary Society established itself in Tonga. Commercial intercourse with many island groups had developed during the same period. Merchants in the recently founded colony of New South Wales had sent vessels to the Society Islands for cargoes of salt pork; and before 1830 these islands were also exporting coconut oil, arrowroot, sugar, lime juice and sennit. Large quantities of sandalwood had been obtained in Fiji and Hawaii; and, as these sources were exhausted, other island groups were visited—with limited success— in search of new supplies. Diving for pearl-shell was carried on in the Tuamotus; and in the 1820s traders began to visit Fiji for béche-de-mer.

But the form of commercial enterprise that affected the islands most * Referred to, henceforth, as the L.M.S. 31

32 SAMOA MO SAMOA generally was sperm whaling. The whaleships, from England, the United States, and the Australian colonies, spent long periods in the Pacific. From time to time they visited island ports to rest their crews and to purchase fresh foodstuffs. The consequences for the people of the islands of this missionary

and commercial penetration were very diverse. The L.M.S., for example, considered that an essential corollary to the acceptance of Christianity was the introduction of ‘a code of Christian laws’; and the traders, by introducing firearms, had profoundly disturbed the existing balance of power in island society. As a result, Tahiti and the other islands of the Windward group of the Society Islands had become

a unified kingdom under the rule of the Pomare dynasty, and Hawaii had been similarly unified by Kamehameha I. Under L.M.S. influence the Tahitian kingdom had established a parliament in 1824; and in other islands where the Society was working missionary-inspired law codes and administrative procedures had been adopted. Elsewhere, leading chiefs had formed ambitions to extend their sway through wars of conquest.

Hawaiians and Society Islanders had responded to the spur of commercial opportunity by embarking upon trading ventures of their

own. In particular, from their inheritance of a tradition of oceanic navigation they had developed an enthusiasm for the building and handling of modern sailing vessels ranging from small cutters to fair-sized brigs. Although their trading voyages were often financially

unsuccessful, the men who engaged in them greatly increased their knowledge of the modern world. Many other islanders enlisted as seamen on whaling and trading vessels and returned home eventually with stories of Sydney or Hobart Town or, occasionally, even of London or New York, Calcutta or Canton. Samoa had not been left untouched by these developments. A few trading vessels had visited the islands, although no substantial trade had as yet grown up; and in the 1820s whalers had begun to call. Seamen who had deserted their ships and escaped convicts from the Australian colonies had settled on shore. Samoans had travelled over-

seas and returned home again. Tongans, Fijians and Uveans had continued to visit Samoa, as they had done in earlier times. The Samoans had thus gained some knowledge not only of Europeans and their ways of life but also of the startling changes in other island groups.

These desultory contacts had helped to prepare the ground for

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 33 Williams’s mission.? The white man’s god was already held in respect, since he seemed to possess the power to bestow the material blessings

that his adherents enjoyed—steel tools, brightly coloured textiles, firearms and fine ships. And, as in other parts of the Pacific, efforts had been made to win his favour even before his accredited representatives had arrived.’ But Williams's visit was made at a propitious time for quite another reason as well. The political position of Malietoa Vai’inup6, to whose village Williams had been brought by a Samoan whom he had picked up in Tonga, had just become a very strong one. The country had been involved for some time in a series of wars, in

which the victorious party had been led by a chief of Manono, Lei’ataua Tonumaipe’a Tamafaiga. A few weeks before Williams's arrival, Tamafaiga had been killed by some of his nominal supporters in A’ana. Since Manono was closely associated with Sa Malietoa and A’ana was one of the centres of the rival lineage of Sa Tupua, Vai’inups had become the leader of an alliance formed to avenge the assassina-

tion. The alliance already seemed assured of victory and Malietoa of gaining the status of tafa’ifa. Malietoa Vai’inupd showed pleasure at being chosen to receive the

first missionary visit. He agreed to protect the teachers and to allow

them to conduct services. He declared that he would attempt to end the present war quickly and to maintain the peace in future. Williams, before leaving Samoa, promised that, if these undertakings were honoured, the L.M.S. would send European missionaries. These promises were kept. The first two missionaries arrived in 1835, and a

year later the number was increased to nine, as a prelude to still further expansion. The number of Polynesian teachers similarly increased. The L.M.S. was thus able to establish itself in most districts.

Further, as a result of Samoan contacts with Tonga, the Wesleyan mission there transferred one of its members to Samoa in 1835. Charles Barff, who had accompanied Williams in 1830, wrote of the Samoans that ‘a kind of careless contentment was depicted in all their countenances ;* but this satisfaction with their way of life imposed no barrier to their acceptance of Christianity. And, as they possessed no priestly class, no group had a vested interest in maintaining ancient religious ritual. On the positive side, the desire for European goods and for new knowledge and the taste for ceremonial and disputation predisposed them to look with favour upon the new religion. Moreover, important matai regarded their association with the missionaries as a source of prestige and found in the church an

34 SAMOA MO SAMOA additional avenue for the attainment of eminence and for the exercise

of influence. And neither the L.M.S. nor the Wesleyans required radical changes in behaviour in those whom they accepted as converts. In these circumstances, traditional methods for the exercise of authority

or influence powerfully assisted the spread of conversion. A matai would decide to become a convert and instruct the members of his household to do likewise; the members of a village fono would reach

a similar decision and punish, by force or banishment, any who declined to accept it; an important matai in a major lineage would use the bonds of kinship to influence members of his ’diga in other parts of the country. To the people as a whole, the church’s opposition

to war, private violence and brutal forms of punishment brought a promise of personal security greater than they had previously known. Within ten or fifteen years of Williams's first visit, the great majority of Samoans had become nominal Christians.

This rapid growth in numbers did not mean that the missions were not faced with serious problems. The leading part taken by matai in the spread of conversion, for example, associated the new religion with the old social structure. Villages or families favoured the L.M.S. or the Wesleyans because of long standing alignments and antipathies; and a bitter rivalry that developed between the two missions in the 1830s was taken up by their Samoan supporters with all the skills of traditional political factionalism. When the Wesleyan mission was disbanded in 1839, as a result of an agreement reached with L.M.S.

headquarters in London, some of its adherents maintained their separate churches with the assistance of Tongan teachers. Again, the foundation of a Roman Catholic mission in 1845 sparked off fresh antagonisms that were as much a product of Samoan politics as of European religion. At this superficial level the Christian church— with its historic divisions—was all too easily absorbed into Samoan

society. In 1857 the Methodist mission was re-established;} but, like the Marist mission, it gained the support of only a minority of Samoans. The history of the L.M.S., as the mission with which the majority of * According to an L.M.S. missionary a leading Tongan Wesleyan teacher taught ‘through the length and breadth of the land that “‘it is the will of God

that Samoa should be divided into two parties” ’ (Macdonald to Foreign Secretaries, L.M.S., 13 Sept. 1843—SSL). + Under the auspices of the Australasian Conference of the Wesleyan Methodist Church, which had taken over the South Seas missions of the (English) Wesleyan Methodist Missionary Society in 1855.

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 35 the people were associated, is thus, broadly, the history of the Christian

church in nineteenth-century Samoa. To the L.M.S., as to the other missions, factionalism was a hindrance; but it was peripheral to the more serious concern with the deepening of Christian experience and the reformation of conduct in accordance with the moral tenets of Christianity. Conversion was regarded as only the first step in the mission's work. Through teaching and church discipline and, to a lesser extent, through the exercise of pressure upon those in authority, the mission hoped slowly to create a more truly Christian community. The development of teaching imposed a variety of tasks. It included the translation of the scriptures and of other works into the Samoan language and the formation of classes where the people could learn to read and write, as well as the building of chapels and the conduct of

religious services. The reformation of conduct was seen, primarily, as the changing of attitudes towards sex and the exercise of authority. Samoan acceptance of polygamy, of extra-marital intercourse, and of easy divorce was inevitably regarded with horror, as were the performance of ‘lewd’ songs and dances and the public testing of virginity at marriage. But the missionaries sensed incompatibility with Christian-

ity, as they understood it, in much else besides: in the practice of tattooing, in the wearing of their hair long by the men and short by the women, in the scantiness of Samoan dress, and in the lack of privacy provided by Samoan houses. In all these matters, and in more besides, they strove to impose their own standards. Similarly, the use of humiliating and brutal forms of punishment and, at a higher level, of war as an instrument of policy were violently condemned. In seeking to impose such far-reaching changes, the missionaries inevitably experienced continual disappointment. Their relations with Malietoa Vai’inup6, on whose support Williams had placed so much reliance, gave them early experience of one type of difficulty. Vai’inup6

became a Christian; but he sought to use his patronage of the mission for the strengthening of his secular position. Eventually, his ambition

led him into taking a step flatly contrary to mission teaching: the arrangement of a political marriage between one of his daughters and

an already married chief of Falelatai. Though denounced by the missionaries and deserted by leading members of his family, under mission influence, he persisted in his plan. His later repentance only partly compensated, in mission eyes, for the damage that had been

done. But action of the kind that Vai'inupo had taken was often difficult to avoid for a high-ranking chief. Such a man had to safeguard

36 SAMOA MO SAMOA the interests of his title and his ’diga in the ways that tradition had sanctified. And the mission, by using the influence of the chiefs for its own purposes, had to pay the price that such support exacted. Similarly in other fields, such as the action of a fono in inflicting punishment or the attitude and practice of individual adherents in matters of sexual relations, tradition was often a more powerful guide

than missionary injunction. Finally, when political circumstances demanded war, the missionaries, though not without influence, were often unable to keep the peace. Samoan Protestantism never became the mirror image of English Nonconformity that was the ideal of most of the L.M.S. missionaries. Even in its structure the church developed in ways that owed more to Samoan than to English Nonconformist tradition. Unlike many of the Society Islanders and Cook Islanders, the Samoans refused to move from their villages into central mission settlements. As a result, the great majority of congregations had to be placed under the charge of

a Samoan teacher, subject to only intermittent supervision by a missionary. Since these teachers were wholly dependent on their congregations for material support, this arrangement made the village churches peculiarly sensitive to traditional authority: a decision

of the fono could not be ignored; the opinion of a matai had to be treated with the respect appropriate to his social position. In the earlier years, the missionaries tried to control the consequences of this situation by assuming a quasi-episcopal authority themselves and by

limiting the status of the teachers, refusing, for example, to ordain them or to permit them to administer the sacraments. But by the 1870s the tables had been turned. The missionaries were seldom being

consulted by individual teachers about their problems; and, at the annual assemblies of the mission, they were often being faced by their

combined opposition on matters of policy. In 1876 a missionary of long experience wrote disconsolately of that year’s assembly: “We bought off their opposition with ordination—not intentionally but really. What other bribe can we offer next meeting?’® Like Samoan orators, the teachers had devoted themselves to the enhancement of their status, personally and collectively. As a result of their efforts, the structure of the church had begun to gain a distinctively Samoan character. Similarly in matters of faith and religious observance, the influence of Samoan culture was strong. Though the people had readily accepted

the concept of an omnipotent deity, few of them were able either

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 37 to abandon the whole of their traditional beliefs or to understand the intricacies—often confusingly presented—of Christian theology. In matters of practice, they adopted with enthusiasm the public forms of churchmanship that the missionaries prescribed. They attended services

with regularity, wearing the clothes that the missionaries thought suitable for such occasions, and listened with respect to the exposition of the church’s moral code. They brought their talents for oratory and for the exercise of influence to bear upon the task of raising mission funds. Indeed, they went farther; and even their speeches on secular occasions came to be studded with pious phrases and biblical allusions. These elements in the Christian life, as it was taught by the mission, accorded well with the elaborate formalism of Samoan custom. But

the equal emphasis that the mission placed on the development of individual responsibility through private prayer and study accorded far less easily with Samoan habits. The authority of the pastor over his congregation, and of the matai over his household, remained central to the Samoan conception of religion. In these circumstances, the foundation by the L.M.S. of a theological seminary at Malua, in Upolu, in 1845 had been of particular import-

ance. Combining general education with theological training, it produced teachers and (after the right to ordination had been conceded) pastors who possessed both a training in Christian doctrine and pastoral duties and a social standing partly derived from it. Many of these men

gave life-long service to the church, not only in Samoa but also in other parts of the Pacific in which the L.M.S. was working. In the villages they came to possess an influence that the fono generally did not choose to ignore. But the influence of the pastors was not confined to the affairs of the church. They took great pride in their superior education; and many

of them made sure that their children, in turn, should share their advantages. From pastors’ families came not only future pastors and school-teachers but government clerks and secretaries and the wives of many important chiefs. The church added an aristocracy of education to the Samoan social structure.

IN 1836—the year in which the first large party of missionaries reached

Samoa—whalers began to anchor in the harbours of Apia, in Upolu, and Pago Pago, in Tutuila. The two events were not unconnected.

38 SAMOA MO SAMOA Up till that time both whaling and trading vessels had generally limited their contact with Samoa to cruising along the coasts and trading with parties that came out to them in canoes. But, as had been the case elsewhere in Polynesia, the presence of missionaries helped to

create confidence in the establishment of closer relations with the indigenous people; and the popularity of the two harbours rapidly increased. In 1846 seventy-two vessels called at Apia alone, and many

remained for a substantial time. For the whalers, which constituted the bulk of the callers till the mid~-’fifties, a visit of several weeks or more offered the opportunity of resting the crew and making repairs to the ship, as well as of obtaining fresh supplies of provisions, water and firewood. These calls were thus of great significance, both socially and economically. Samoans and Europeans were brought into day-to-

day contact with one another; and the necessary conditions were created for the establishment of organized commerce. The missionary reaction to this development was a mixed one. On the one hand, the L.M.S. had learnt elsewhere that it was always accompanied by the introduction of gambling and drinking and the spread of sexual licence. But, on the other hand, it believed—as did the English Evangelicals generally—that ‘legitimate commerce’ was a part

of the foundations upon which ‘civilization’ must be built. John Williams himself was one of the strongest advocates of this view. And in 1839 his own son, John Chauner Williams, became the first ‘Christian trader’ to settle in Samoa.

J. C. Williams built himself a vessel for trading among the island groups of the central Pacific, began the export of coconut oil from Samoa, and established a general store at Apia. His example was soon

followed by others. By 1860 over a hundred Europeans were permanently settled round the shores of Apia harbour, running various types of businesses—such as general stores, boarding-houses, and erog-shops—and practising a variety of trades. Others had settled on

the land near by and were producing foodstuffs for the trade with visiting ships. And still others had established themselves as traders in the outer districts. The most important of these European enterprises was the branch of the Hamburg firm of Johann Cesar Godeftroy und Sohn, which was

established at Apia in 1857. For some years Godeftroys had been operating round the rim of the Pacific, in Cochin-China, Australia and Chile; and in eastern Polynesia the firm possessed a station in the Tuamotu Archipelago, from which it had engaged in the pearl-shell

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-I900 39 fishery. The firm came to Samoa because it had decided to concentrate its efforts in the islands upon supplying the rapidly expanding world market for coconut oil; and Apia seemed an ideal base for the development of this trade. Agents were appointed throughout Polynesia and Micronesia; and a fleet of small vessels was built up to bring the oil back to Apia for trans-shipment to Europe.

In these various ways, Samoa was first linked substantially with

the money economy of the Western world. The Samoan people themselves produced coconut oil both to sell to the traders and as contributions to the funds of the missions. Some supplied foodstuffs to the merchants and to visiting ships. Some entered the employment of European residents or were engaged as sailors on local or overseas

vessels. And they developed, at the same time, a demand for the manufactured goods that the merchants imported. All these developments, like the commercial ventures of the European residents, constituted a major break from the wholly self-sufficient, non-monetary economy of former times. The effects of trade and European settlement permeated the life of the country, of course, far more broadly. At Apia the old pattern of Samoan settlement, for example, was changed. Till Europeans settled there, only Apia village—from which the embryo town took its name —lay on the shores of the harbour, and a number of other villages lay some little distance inland. But before 1860 many of the people of these latter villages had shifted to the coast. People from more distant parts, also, had begun to move in, attracted by the excitement and Opportunities provided by commercial development. Although the villages of the harbour area continued to control their affairs in the traditional way, they did so in circumstances that were novel, since a multi-cultural, quasi-urban community had begun to be superimposed on the traditional village structure. Europeans and Samoans were thus brought together in circumstances in which both co-operation and conflict were bound to develop, with far-reaching effects upon the future of the country.

From the beginning there were also more limited political and administrative consequences. In 1837-8 Captain Bethune, of H.M.S. Conway, held meetings with chiefs at both Pago Pago and Apia for the promulgation of codes of port regulations; and towards the end of 1839 the Apia code was elaborated during the visit of the United States Exploring Expedition, under Lieutenant Charles Wilkes. These codes,

in whose formulation missionaries of the L.M.S. had a large part,

40 SAMOA MO SAMOA provided not only for the service of pilots and the payment of harbour dues but also sought to regulate the conduct of ships’ companies and imposed various obligations upon the Samoans. Liquor was not to be

landed; work on Sundays was severely restricted; and seamen were not to spend the night on shore. Passengers and crew members were not to be discharged in Samoa unless permission was granted by the ‘government ; and deserters were to be apprehended by the Samoans. In the absence of a central government, many of these regulations could not be effectively enforced. But they were by no means a dead letter: the local fono acted upon them to the extent that they were able and that it was in their interest to do so. And the fact that the codes were in writing—printed and distributed to ships on arrival— itself gave them some standing and marked a stage in Samoan political adaptation.

In 1839 British and American consular representatives were provisionally appointed. Some years elapsed before either position was held with the formal approval of the government concerned; but from this time onwards consular officers filled an increasingly influential role. The absence of a central government made it almost inevitable that they should become involved in matters well beyond the terms of their appointments; and the background and interests of the early consuls made this development even more certain. The first regularly appointed British consul was George Pritchard, formerly a missionary of the L.M.S. and then British consul, at Tahiti. The first American respresentative was J. C. Williams, who eventually succeeded

Pritchard as British consul. Both these men had close contacts with

the L.M.S. In addition, Pritchard was a merchant, and Williams retained his business interests for some years. The consuls were thus personally involved in most of the general issues of concern to the European community. Among the most important of these were the real or alleged offences

of Samoans against Europeans, ranging from acts of violence to non-payment of debts. The consuls normally sought to obtain the necessary action—either punitive or remedial—through representations

to the appropriate district or village fono. But not infrequently such representations were without effect. In those circumstances, the matter

would be referred to the first visiting warship of the Power whose nationals were concerned. A meeting would again be held with the Samoans; and satisfaction was often obtained in this way, both because of a genuine respect for the impartiality and status of naval commanders

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 AI and out of recognition of the force with which they could, if necessary,

back their demands. The system of ‘naval justice’ had its defects, however, from both the Samoan and the European points of view. Europeans who had been beaten or stoned, for example, had often seriously infringed Samoan custom and been treated no differently from an ordinary untitled Samoan; debts or compensation were sometimes fixed at figures that the Samoans believed to be grossly exorbitant; and occasionally, when an irate commander ordered the destruction of village houses or plantations, serious damage was done.

From the European point of view, the system was a slow and cumbrous substitute for effective domestic jurisdiction.

Both missionaries and settlers had given some thought to the problem of reorganizing the Samoan political structure and thus providing a code of laws and a system of courts adequate to the new

conditions. Broadly, the missionaries of the L.M.S. believed that foreign Powers should accept the notion that sovereignty over the country was possessed by its people collectively but that government

should be organized on a district basis. They rejected, for the time being, the idea of a unified Samoan monarchy, on the lines of that which had come into being under their guidance in Tahiti, because they recognized that it was inseparable, in Samoan eyes, from the traditional struggles for the great titles and the status of tafa’ifa. Their model was Rarotonga, where district governments had been created successfully after the people had accepted Christianity. The settlers, on the other hand, tended to look for an example to Hawaii, where the central government had come increasingly under settler control,

with results that were highly beneficial to the settlers’ economic position. Alternatively, they favoured annexation by a Western Power. But neither missionary nor settler aspirations had much immediate effect: the Samoans continued to be concerned primarily with the pursuit of their traditional political objectives; and no Power was willing to annex. Only in the Apia area was the problem of political reorganization an urgent one. There, by the early ‘fifties, the presence of settlers, of large numbers of visiting sailors, and of many Samoans from other districts had greatly reduced the power of the village fono to maintain

law and order effectively. Further, the growth of settlement had created the need for minor public works—particularly roads and bridges. To meet this situation, a Foreign Residents’ Society was formed to operate a kind of ‘town meeting’ government. At general

42 SAMOA MO SAMOA meetings of members, regulations were made for the maintenance of order and an executive and judges appointed. Offenders were punished with fines, fogging or deportation. The money collected in fines was spent on public works. In 1857 a ‘mixed court’ was organized—by

agreement between the consuls and principal chiefs—to handle matters in which both Samoans and Europeans were involved. Although this machinery of government worked cumbrously, and was sometimes ineffective, it survived in broadly the same form through the

sixties and sufficed to maintain at least minimal standards of order in the town area. In the rest of Samoa concern with the traditional political objectives

had led to sporadic warfare during the ‘forties and ‘fifties. Before Malietoa Vai'inup6 died, in 1841, he had willed that the four great titles constituting the tafa’ifa, which he had gained as a result of the 1830 war, should never again be held by one man. For a time his half-brother, Taimalelagi, who succeeded him in the Malietoa title, seemed to accept this dispensation, and the danger of a new struggle for

titular supremacy seemed, therefore, to be remote. But in 1843 desultory warfare, concerned with a purely local issue, broke out between Fa’asaleleaga and Palauli districts. The eventual victory of the

former, with which, of course, S4 Malietoa was closely connected, revived both Taimalelagi’s personal ambitions and, even more importantly, those of his supporters. During the same period the continuance of peace in the rest of Samoa had enabled the opponents of

Sa Malietoa to rebuild their position. The status of the Malietoa supporters as the malé (the dominant or victorious party) was thus placed in jeopardy; and in 1847 a section of these supporters entered A’ana district, the centre of potential opposition, with the intention of making war. The people of A’ana withdrew, as enjoined to do by the missionaries. But the incident led to the organization of alliances

and the outbreak of full-scale war involving a large part of Samoa a year later. This was continued intermittently till 1857, when a general peace was made that left neither side triumphant.

Both the course and the inconclusive result of the war revealed

the changes that Europeans had brought to Samoa. Missionary teaching and the desire of the combatants to maintain their cash incomes had led to long breaks in the fighting and to the failure of the parties to pursue temporary gains to the limit. And active mediation, from time to time, by missionaries, consuls and visiting naval officers had had a similar effect. Finally, although firearms and European-style

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 43 boats had changed the tactics of warfare, they had not, as in other parts of Polynesia, benefited one side more than the other. It seemed as if

changing circumstances might have rendered the traditional pursuit of titular political supremacy no longer worth while. At this stage, the proposal for modernized political institutions at the district or sub-district level began to appeal to many Samoans. With the encouragement and advice of J. C. Williams—now in a particularly strong position as British consul and, for some time, also acting commercial agent for the United States—action was taken in several districts and sub-districts. Codes of law were adopted; executive

and judicial officers were appointed; and, in one case at least, a poll tax was imposed. In operation these new institutions seem to have varied between a fairly low degree of effectiveness and practically none.

Traditional methods and modes of thought were not easily superseded. In particular, groups or villages not represented among the office-holders generally considered that obedience to the edicts of the

district government would represent acceptance of a position of subordination. Despite the difficulty in making district governments work, some

Samoans allowed their political aspirations to rise even higher. Towards the end of 1868, chiefs and orators from a number of districts met to discuss the formation of a central government, loosely organized

as a confederation of districts. The proposal was agreed to; and government headquarters were established at Mulinu’u, a promontory at the eastern end of Apia harbour. To many of the missionaries and other well-disposed Europeans, this was a most promising develop-

ment. Its instigators clearly desired to maintain the peace and to establish a government that would promote the development of the country according to ‘civilized’ standards. They had strong support in the traditional political centres—that is, in the centres of Tumua and Pule—and seemed antagonistic to any revival of the old struggles to elevate an individual to the status of tafa’ifa. This analysis of the situation was fairly accurate, as far as it went; but it was by no means complete. Though the support of the political centres was important, it did not ensure the full allegiance of the districts; nor were these centres themselves undivided in their attitude, since, as in former times,

lineage ties were often stronger than those created by the formal political structure. Moreover, the avoidance of the tafaifa issue was probably based as much on the age-old policy of Tiimua and Pule of seeking to enlarge their own political role as on sweet reasonableness

44 SAMOA MO SAMOA and conimon sense. It was, however, still another element in traditional

politics that first brought the Mulinu’u government into serious trouble. Because of a division of opinion among those concerned, the Malietoa title had been conferred jointly some years earlier on two rival contenders, Talavou, a son of Vaiinup6, and Laupepa, a young man educated at Malua by the L.M.S., who was a son of Talavou’s elder half-brother.* The agreement had been that Malietoa Laupepa should live in Tuamasaga—the original home of Sa Malietoa—and Malietoa Talavou in Fa’asaleleaga and ’Aiga-i-le-Tai. In 1868, when a district government for Tuamasaga was being constituted, Laupepa’s supporters rashly had him declared the paramount chief of Tuamasaga and sole holder of the Malictoa title. The reaction of Talavou’s supporters was immediate: they established a rival district government

under his leadership at Mulinu’u and made on his behalf the same claims as those made on behalf of Laupepa. It was thus to Talavou and

his associates that the district leaders came at Mulinu’u later in the year to form the confederation. Efforts were made, by missionaries and others, to end the Tuamasaga split and bring Laupepa and his supporters into the confederation. But they were to no avail. Instead, the Laupepa district government forcibly expelled the confederation from Mulinu’u. Although the latter was successful in the ensuing fighting, its prospects as a generally acceptable central government— which had never been as good as they had appeared superficially— were destroyed.

In terms of lasting achievement, the political experiments of the ‘fifties and ‘sixties were thus largely a failure. None of the new district

governments had fully established its authority; the confederation had failed to win general acceptance; and even in Apia, where new * The holders of the Malietoa title since 1830 had been: 1. Vaiinupo, d. 1841; 2. Taimalelagi (sometimes referred to as Tinai), half-brother of Vai’inup6, d. 1858; 3. Moll, eldest son of Vai’inup6s, d. 1858;

4. (i) Talavou (sometimes referred to as Pe’a from his tenure of the title Tonumaipe’a), a younger son of Vai’inup6 and half-brother of Moll, d. 1880.

(1) Laupepa, son of Moli, d. 1898. In accordance with custom, Talavou was an ideal candidate—on grounds of descent and because of his personal qualities—after the death of his elder brother, Moli. Laupepa might reasonably have expected the title after Talavou’s death; but the L.M.S. strongly supported him at this stage because the missionaries believed that he had been brought up to favour peace and the church.

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 45 methods of maintaining law and order had survived in some degree, the record was one of friction and frequent breakdown. But, in terms of changes of attitude, the period can be judged rather differently. Though the traditional factors in Samoan politics still made reform extremely difficult, new ideas were in circulation and new interests were at work. Many Samoan leaders were deeply impressed with what

they had learnt of Western forms of government. They wanted political unity and personal security and had some knowledge of what was needed for their attainment. By 1870 a new generation that had grown up in the era of Christianity and commerce was becoming increasingly influential. The prospects, it might have seemed, were not without promise.

AT this point, however, the political situation was complicated by a sudden—and, for the Samoans, catastrophic—increase in the demand by Europeans for land. For many years commercial settlers and the missions had been acquiring land, though in relatively small amounts. Discussion normally took place within the ’diga and the village fono concerned before a transfer was made; and, if it was agreed to, the new occupants of the land generally enjoyed an undisputed tenure. In the mid-’sixties some extension of this earlier land-buying had occurred. Bad seasons had temporarily reduced money incomes and made Samoans willing both to sell land and to work for wages on plantations. Several thousand acres had passed into European hands at that period, but at reasonable prices and after the usual consultation among those concerned. The situation in the early ‘seventies, on the other hand, was of a quite different kind. Europeans began to see Samoa’s future primarily in terms of largescale plantation agriculture, instead of in those of gradually increasing production by the people of the villages. The change in outlook was brought about by a number of factors. High prices occasioned by the American Civil War had led to the introduction of cotton-growing on a small scale and demonstrated the suitability of Samoa for this

crop. More importantly, the switch during the late ‘sixties from coconut oil to copra production had reduced the technical problems, and increased the profitability, of operating coconut plantations.* The provisional establishment of a trans-Pacific steamship route linking at San Fancisco with the newly opened trans-continental railway and

46 SAMOA MO SAMOA using Samoa as a port of call seemed to offer opportunities of develop-

ment similar to those in Hawaii. Finally, it was commonly believed that Samoa would soon be annexed by one of the Powers. European interests thus had good reasons for acquiring land. And the Samoans had special reasons for being ready to sell. The war between the confederation government at Mulinu'u and the supporters

of Malietoa Laupepa lasted, except for an uneasy intermission of eighteen months, from April 1869 till May 1873. Both sides needed the

firearms that they were offered in exchange for land. Under the pressure of military necessity, the old restraints were abandoned. Land was sold without adequate consultation with those concerned, sometimes by matai of high rank whose interest in it was of the most tenuous kind. Often those who should have been consulted were in

no position to enforce their rights, owing to absence from their villages resulting from the war. Often, too, the interested parties were divided between the two warring factions. Firearms were accepted in payment at grossly inflated values, while the land itself was sold for a fraction of its former price. Between 1869 and 1872 Theodore Weber,

manager for Godeftroys, bought an area estimated at 25,000 acres for the extension of his firm’s plantation activities. A speculative syndicate based on San Francisco—the Central Polynesian Land and Commercial Company—established claims, often by the payment of

a small deposit, to an area that it estimated at over 300,000 acres (or nearly half of Samoa). The estimates of the purchasers often turned out to be far in excess of the actual areas involved; but, none the less,

a situation had been created that threatened a serious disruption of Samoan life. Many villages near Apia had lost nearly all their land; and in some other parts of the country most of the uncultivated forest land, upon which the people would be dependent for any expansion of their agricultural activities, had been alienated. The Samoan reaction, when the extent of the land sales was realized, was one of fear and horror. A new bitterness entered into the Samoan attitude towards Europeans, not least because some of those who had formerly assisted them, such as J. C. Williams, had become heavily involved in speculation. Even before the war the Samoan leaders had been anxious to restrict land sales. Now they developed a repugnance to alienation that took such deep root that today—ninety years later—

the inalienability of Samoan land is regarded as a corner-stone of custom.

The most important short-term effect of the sales was, however,

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 4.7 of another kind. A settler community that is primarily dependent on commerce has minimal political interests; but one that is engaged in plantation agriculture is acutely sensitive to a wide range of policies, and its interests are often directly opposed to those of the indigenous people. Thus, before 1870 the settlers had been primarily concerned with the establishment of a government that could maintain law and order. After the war the matters with which they concerned themselves included the recognition of their land claims and the maintenance of rights to continue buying land and to introduce indentured labour for its development. Nor were their interests concentrated mainly in the Apia area, as they had previously been, but they extended wherever plantation development was being undertaken. To advance them, they actively fomented Samoan factionalism and, with equal alacrity, called upon consuls and visiting naval officers to assert their claims.

The establishment of an effective central government, which had previously been impeded mainly by the nature of traditional Samoan political objectives, was now made almost impossible by the character and extent of settler interests.

This final consequence of the land sales became fully apparent only with the passage of time; and, in any case, since the Samoans did

not wish to lose control of their country through submission to its annexation by one of the Powers, they had no alternative to resuming

the attempt to form a government. During the war, as consuls and visiting naval officers had repeatedly intervened in their affairs, they had become increasingly conscious of their need for a central authority able to deal with these representatives of foreign governments. Further, there were the old problems of maintaining law and order, particularly

in the Apia area, and of preventing the recurrence of factional strife.

In August 1873—three months after the end of the war—an agreement was made at Mulinu’u establishing a provisional government.’ The issue of titular supremacy was avoided by vesting authority in a council of seven high-ranking chiefs, known as Ta’imua, who were charged with the conduct of the executive government, the drafting of a constitution, and the enactment of a code of laws. The executive functions of the new government were fairly limited. It was to conduct relations with foreign Powers, to maintain law and order in the Apia

area (in association with the village fono and the consuls), and to appoint certain district officials. The retention by district and village authorities of their traditional powers was guaranteed. As an attempt

48 SAMOA MO SAMOA to reconcile changing needs with the tradition of local autonomy this scheme was thus a realistic one. For the conduct of its routine administrative work the government

was able to appoint, as secretaries, Samoans with a good mission education—generally gained at Malua—and some knowledge of English. What it needed, in addition, was an adviser of high personal

standing who could assist it in the drafting of the constitution and code of laws and in the formulation of policy. Such men had been found, at an earlier period, in the Society Islands and, more recently, in Tonga among the missionaries. In Samoa a suitable man presented himself in the month in which the government was formed. This was Albert B. Steinberger, a “special agent’ of the American State Department. The background to Steinberger’s appointment as ‘special agent’ was a somewhat murky one. He had contacts with both the Central Polynesian Land and Commercial Company and the promoter of the trans-Pacific steamship line. He had been recommended to the Secretary of State by the White House. His official instructions required him merely to submit a factual report on Samoa and to advise the Samoans against further alienation of land. But, since these objectives could

have been attained more simply through the American consul and visiting naval officers, it has always been assumed that there were other, and more important (though unstated), reasons for his appointment. Did some members of the American administration, including

perhaps President Grant himself, wish to prepare the way for an American protectorate over Samoa? Did Steinberger’s business friends wish him to salvage their investments? Did Steinberger plan a career for himself as the dominant figure in Samoan politics? Whatever the full story may have been—and it was certainly a complex one—the Samoans’ liking for him was undoubted. As a ‘special agent’ of the American government, he had an initial standing that his personal charm, his readiness of speech, his sensitivity

in personal relationships, and his political adroitness enabled him to

transform swiftly into a position of great influence. He travelled throughout the country—as few Europeans were inclined to do— showing deep respect for Samoan custom and avoiding any sign of preference for one faction rather than another. He recognized the importance in the villages of L.M.S. teachers, as mediators between the modern and traditional worlds; and he made them his devoted supporters. He offered shrewd advice to the Ta’imua on the code of

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 49 laws that they were drafting. Not least important, perhaps, he let it be

understood that his word would carry great weight with President Grant if he advised the establishment of an American protectorate. Though the Samoans were intent on avoiding annexation, the combination of internal autonomy and the help of a friendly Power in handling their relations with other foreign governments was a solution

that strongly appealed to them. Steinberger was in Samoa for about two months, after which he returned to the United States. His principal achievement had been the creation of unqualified confidence in himself'as a man upon whom the Samoans might rely for shrewd and practical advice. Only in a few

matters, though they were important ones, does he seem actually to have influenced the decisions that were taken. His period in Samoa had, however, coincided with that in which the Ta’imua had begun to carry out the duties reposed in them under the August agreement. They had, in particular, created a house of Faipule—a sort of lower house—to enable the opinion of the districts and villages to be brought

to bear upon government policy; and they had completed work on the code of laws. Their decisions had reflected the complex interplay

of tradition, changing Samoan opinion, and European pressure. Since—well before his departure at any rate—Steinberger had come to see himself as the future arch-manipulator of Samoan affairs, his visit had taken place at an ideal time. It had been decided that as many as forty Faipule might be sent to Mulinu’u by each district represented by a Ta’imua, an arrangement that ensured that every village could have its representative in the

central government. This decision creating, as it did, a cumbrous deliberative body that kept a very large number of matai away from their ordinary duties emphasized the continued importance of the tradition of village autonomy. In the code of laws many provisions showed the extent to which Christian teaching had changed Samoan opinion, in its publicly expressed form at least, while others showed the impossibility of resisting settler pressure. The Law for Marriage, for example, declared that “when any two, man and wife, are married,

the family have no further control over them for they are one’; and it forbade elopement, polygamy, and divorce. Adultery was made an offence. The Law for Dances declared that ‘Night Dances according to the old Samoan or heathen custom, that is dancing partly or quite

naked and committing indecency, are strictly forbidden’. Tattooing was similarly made illegal. In the Law for the Sabbath Day the in-

50 SAMOA MO SAMOA fluence of Evangelical teaching and settler pressure were both strikingly

demonstrated, in that a general ban on Sunday work was qualified by the granting of permission for the sale of liquor. The prohibition in the Law for Trading of any restrictions on commerce seems to have reflected, on the other hand, the simple acceptance of settler demands.® The most difficult subject of all, however, for which legal provision had had to be made was that of land sales, since Samoan and settler

attitudes were so widely divergent. Though many of the settlers were unwilling to accept any government intervention even in regard to future sales, the crux of the problem related to those made during the land rush of the immediately preceding years. At an early stage the Samoans had expressed the desire for a mixed court to examine all disputes relating to sales since 1869. Some of the settlers, on the other hand, had demanded explicit recognition of all existing claims. Failure to reach agreement on this issue would have been peculiarly dangerous,

since consular intervention could have effectively destroyed the government. But at this point Steinberger had shown his talent for compromise.® He suggested a moratorium of a year in the examination

of past sales, after which a board of commissioners might examine them. By stating his proposal only in these general terms, he was able, in private discussions with both Samoans and settlers, to draw attention

to factors favouring an ultimate solution on the lines that his particular hearers desired. He had perceived, in other words, the political value of procrastination and of calculated vagueness in a multi-cultural

community, where communication between the separate racial groups was impaired by linguistic and cultural differences. His intervention solved the immediate problem. The consuls withdrew their objection to the proposed Law for Selling Land, which simply provided that an intending vendor must demonstrate to the government his right to sell before the sale would be registered. All parties seemed content with an informal understanding that a decision on the examination of past sales should be taken at a later time.

When Steinberger left Samoa, he carried with him petitions or letters from the Ta’imua and Faipule, from Malietoa Laupepa, from

the heads of all three missions (L.M.S., Methodist and Roman Catholic) and from an influential group of British and American settlers. The general purport of these documents was to express appreciation of what he had done, hope that he would return, and a desire for American protection. The last point was of particular importance to him, for he knew that he would be unable to exercise

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 SI any lasting influence on the basis of the support of the Samoans and the missionaries alone. Although he had won the friendship of many

settlers, he recognized that the settler group—with consuls and naval officers often willing to enforce its demands—was a dangerously disruptive force. In one way or another, its political activities had to be

kept in check; and to him, as an American with official contacts, the granting of American protection would be the ideal way. On his return to Washington Steinberger presented his report and the various petitions and letters requesting American protection and

the continuance of his own work in Samoa. The unwillingness of Congress to acquiesce in formal American intervention was a severe

blow to his hopes. But he decided to seek the role of leader of an independent Samoa. For this plan to be effective he needed the support,

or at least the friendly neutrality, of the Powers. A measure of American support was assured, since opinion in the executive was quite favourable to the adoption of an active policy towards Samoa. The British seemed to present no problem, as the senior officer on the Australian Station of the Royal Navy had recognized the Mulinu’u government shortly after his own departure. The attitude of Germany was his main difficulty. Early in 1874, indeed, a German warship had resorted to force in support of Godeffroys’ disputed land claims. Steinberger, therefore, travelled to Hamburg to seek the assistance of the company’s controllers. In this Steinberger was successful. But, as in his intervention in the land sales issue in Apia, he gained present agreement without eliminating likely causes of future friction. Godeffroys promised to use their

influence to promote German recognition of a Samoan government led by him; and they undertook to submit ‘all differences and claims’ to Samoan courts for settlement. In return, however, the Samoan government was to impose a tax in copra and coconut fibre and to dispose of the proceeds exclusively through Godeffroys; it was to appoint the firm as its banker and fiscal agent; and it was to permit

the introduction of foreign labour for work on the plantations. Steinberger was to secure recognition of all the firm’s land claims and to consult it on ‘all important matters’. He, personally, was to receive a commission on all government purchases from the firm.!° Finally, the firm made him a loan for the purchase of a vessel for his ‘official’

use in Samoa. These arrangements, needless to say, were to remain confidential.

After the visit to Hamburg, Steinberger busied himself with

52 SAMOA MO SAMOA preparations for his return to Samoa. He was again appointed ‘special

agent, on this occasion for the purpose of delivering a reply from

President Grant to the request of the Taimua and Faipule. The President's message—a vaguely-worded document assuring the Samoans of American friendship—was to be accompanied by presents

to the government. The latter, selected by Steinberger, consisted mainly of firearms, ammunition and uniforms. Steinberger was to be landed in Samoa by an American warship. But his preparations were not confined to his official negotiations. He purchased a schooner with the Godeffroy loan, raised further funds by promising commercial

concessions (conflicting with his undertaking to Godeffroys), and recruited a small staff (of which the key member was a military aide and training officer). Though Steinberger’s actions had been devious, and at some points dishonest, they had been shrewdly calculated to strengthen the position of his proposed new government. By seeking to ensure its recognition

by the Powers, he had struck a blow at the settlers’ capacity for political disruption. By acquiring a schooner and the means—both material and personal—for establishing an armed force, he had made rebellion by Samoans themselves far more difficult. By recruiting staff in America, he had reduced his dependence on members of the settler

community for administrative assistance. Finally, by arranging his return on an American warship, he had established his own position as one far superior to that of the consuls. When he stepped ashore at Apia on 1 April 1875, to be received with enthusiasm by the Samoans, he seemed well prepared for the task that lay ahead.

The domestic political situation that faced Steinberger was not, however, an easy one. Several months earlier the government had been pushed, by consular pressure and by difficulties in conducting an election for the Ta’imua, into adopting a new constitution. This had revived the kingship, with provision for two joint holders of the office, one representing Sa Malietoa and the other $4 Tupua. The selection as

the Tupua representative of the chief Pulepule had been a highly controversial one; and supporters in the Atua district of the other principal contender, Mata’afa Iosefa, had withdrawn from the government. Since Mata’afa was a Roman Catholic, it was widely believed that religious bias—and L.M.S. interference—lay behind the decision. On the Malietoa side, the selection of Malietoa Laupepa had had the full support of his ’diga; but, when the supporters of Mata’afa Iosefa, who had important kinship connections with $4 Malietoa, as well as

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 $3 with Sa Tupuia, talked of challenging both selections, a section of Sa Malietoa had threatened war. The old struggle for titular supremacy

had thus reasserted itself, in a form that was exacerbated by the religious division.

Steinberger lost no time in rebuilding the authority of the govern-

ment, a process which the mere fact of his return had set in train. His schooner was mounted with the heavier guns included in President

Grant’s gift; and a militia of about a hundred men was formed and equipped with light arms and uniforms from the same source. The government’s possession of this small military establishment served both as a source of popular pride and a deterrent to disaffection. At the same time, discussions were begun on the revision of the constitution, under Steinberger’s shrewd and dominant guidance. The problem of the kingship was solved in a manner that accorded, with singular exactitude, with the characteristics of Samoan thinking.*

There was to be one king, instead of two, but he was to hold office only for a four-year term; and the holder was to be chosen, alternately,

from Sa Malietoa and Sa Tupua. After the completion of two terms the legislature could, if it desired, hold a plebiscite to decide whether the kingship should be retained or abolished. Finally, the king was to be denuded of most of his functions, so that he would become only a constitutional head of state on the British model. By informal agreement it was arranged that Malietoa Laupepa should be the first holder of the office. The scheme thus recognized the aspirations of both ‘royal’ lineages and, in satisfying the immediate ambitions of Sa

Malietoa, it enabled the supporters of both Tupua contenders to nourish the hope that their candidate would obtain the succession. By making the king a constitutional figure-head, it minimized the danger of a revival of the tafaifa conflict, while the provision permitting a plebiscite offered those who opposed the kingship on any terms an

opportunity of seeking its abolition in due course. Steinberger’s solution thus provided a workable arrangement for the period immediately ahead, gave a measure of recognition to all important sections of opinion, and left the ultimate decision on the kingship to be taken at a future time. In doing so, it admirably reflected the characteristic conservatism of Samoan political thought.

The composition and functions of the Ta’imua and Faipule were

also changed. The number of Ta’imua was fixed at fourteen, an * Steinberger’s solution of the problem of the kingship strikingly anticipated the provisions adopted by the Samoans in 1960 for the office of Head of State. C

54 SAMOA MO SAMOA increase (from the earlier seven) that had first been made in the constitution enacted shortly before Steinberger’s return. They were to be commissioned by the king after nomination by the ‘people’ and to hold office for an unspecified term. A more drastic change was made in regard to the Faipule, who were to be elected for a two-year term by the districts in accordance with a quota that provided one member for each two thousand people. The number of Faipule was thus to be reduced from about two hundred to about twenty. The functions of the two houses were to be those of a normal bicameral legislature.

The principal executive officer of the government was to be a premier, appointed by the king. In each district there was to be a governor, who would be responsible to the premier for central government activities, such as tax collection and the control of subordinate officials. The new constitution was, therefore, to provide for

a greater concentration of executive authority in the hands of the central government than previous constitutions had done. In proposing this change of emphasis, Steinberger was, of course, running counter to the deep-seated feeling for local autonomy; but he had no

real alternative to doing so. For one thing, the new government would be committed—because of its material needs and of his agreement with Godeffroys—to the effective enforcement of its tax laws; and, for another, the extension of European interests throughout the country necessitated a uniform judicial procedure, at least in matters concerning Europeans. Even in this field, however, Steinberger was not abandoning his essentially conservative attitude towards political

change. No doubt he considered that his own personal standing would help to make some measure of change acceptable; but he counted also on winning support by honouring influential matai with office at the district level and on implementing the new administrative procedures fairly gradually. The new constitution was promulgated on 18 May, and Malietoa

Laupepa was installed as king four days later! Steinberger was appointed premier and also chief judge. Under the constitution, the premier, though not a member of the legislature, had the right to speak in both the Ta’imua and the Faipule.* During the next few * This arrangement accurately reflected Samoan thinking on the role of an adviser. On two much later occasions Samoans made proposals on similar lines. In 1936 the Fono of Faipule asked that the title of fa’atonu (adviser or instructor) should be conferred on O. F. Nelson, the leader of the Mau movement, and that he should be a Samoan representative in the Legislative Council and have the right of speaking in the Fono of Faipule. In 1949-50 the Fautua proposed

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 55 months the new Ta’imua and Faipule took office, and district governors, judges and other officials were appointed. To European observers,

the most notable characteristic of the new government was the dominant position of Steinberger himself, as the senior officer of both the executive and the judiciary and with direct access to the legislature. To the Samoans, on the other hand, with no tradition of a separation

of powers on European lines, his position was not intrinsically one for unfavourable comment; and, since he was trusted and was not, as a foreigner, a contender for Samoan titular supremacy, it was unobjectionable in practice.

The government, indeed, gained the almost universal backing of the Samoan people.* Steinberger’s association with it seemed to ensure that it would be able to deal effectively with the demands of both the Powers and the settlers. His mere presence was generally believed to

show an American intention to protect Samoa against foreign aggression; and his active leadership was thought to guarantee success-

ful handling of the settlers. Its attitude towards the important men in the districts also won it support, since it showed itself acutely sensitive to the factional rivalries that could endanger political stability. The idea that senior offices, such as district governorships, should be held in rotation by representatives of rival groups was popularized; and in Tutuila, where rivalry was particularly bitter, two sets of appointments to the less important offices were made. These devices, and

especially the latter, were not compatible with a high standard of administrative efficiency; but, as subsequent history has shown, they

were particularly congenial to Samoan opinion and particularly useful as a means of preserving political harmony. At this stage, when

the intended functions of government outside Apia were largely restricted to the collection of taxes and the administration of justice in cases involving Europeans, their adoption was an act of political common sense.

Very soon, however, Samoan expectations of better relations with the settler community and the consuls began to be disappointed. The enactment of legislation to control the liquor trade produced violent settler opposition as soon as the government attempted to enforce it. Before long even Godeftroys’ manager, who was also German consul, that I should myself have the right of speaking in the Fono, in addition to the Legislative Assembly (of which I was an official member).

* Its jurisdiction did not extend to Manu’a, which took no part in the politics of the remainder of Samoa during the nineteenth century.

56 SAMOA MO SAMOA became highly critical, despite his close relations with Steinberger. His

principal grievance related to the firm’s land claims. For political reasons, the government was slow in setting up the lands commission

for which provision had been made in the constitution; and, as a result, the firm’s title to lands it was actually developing remained insecure. The reaction of other sections of the settler community, which possessed no similar influence over the premier, was necessarily

far more unfavourable. Did Steinberger intend to sacrifice their business interests to those of Godeffroys or of his own American associates? Did not the government’s easy-going attitude towards the conditions of employment of imported labour assist Godeffroys and penalize British planters, who were liable to prosecution for infringement of British law on the subject? What would become of their land claims? The growth of these general anxieties was encouraged by a

number of minor incidents around Apia that struck at papdlagi (European) pride and raised fears of increasing arbitrariness. Foreign residents were arrested without their consuls being notified; others

were assaulted by government officers without apology or redress being offered. At a more serious level, there was deep resentment

that the constitution had ignored the former judicial role of the consuls in the hearing of cases involving foreigners and had made no

provision for settler representation in the legislative or executive branches of government. The consuls themselves resented their loss of

political influence: it had been important to them not only in itself but also as an aid to the promotion of their commercial interests. And some of the missionaries were alienated in not dissimilar ways. One

of them wrote: ... Col Steinberger . . . stole away the hearts of the people, at the same time that he excited their prejudices against us. He condescended to lower himself to their level, took them home to his board and his bosom, and managed to convey the idea that we were proud, because we would not do the same.!?

Steinberger was opposed because of his success, as well as because of his weaknesses.

Many of Steinberger’s critics took action to embarrass or discredit him and the government that he led. Godeffroys’ manager declined a request for badly needed credit. Evidence was sought, and rumours circulated, regarding Steinberger’s public acts, his probable obligations to commercial interests and his private morals. Compromised as he

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-I900 57 was in many ways, he was an easy target for damning charges, though

many of them were difficult to prove. Meanwhile, the American consul had written to Washington for details of Steinberger’s mission; and in due course he received information of its limited scope, of his resignation as ‘special agent’ after accepting the premiership, and of

America’s unwillingness to accord Samoa even the most limited protection. Steinberger thus stood revealed as a man who had nothing

to offer beyond his personal services, as an adventurer who was completely vulnerable to the assaults of the establishment. Those of the missionaries who had originally regarded him with some favour had done so largely from the hope that his arrival presaged the grant of American protection. Now, shortly before that hope was finally destroyed, they had received a report that the new British government

of Benjamin Disraeli might be willing to annex Samoa. In these circumstances, they joined with the rest of the European community in seeking his expulsion from public office.

In December 1875—seven months after the formation of the new

government—Steinberger’s opponents were provided with an Opportunity to pursue their opposition to a conclusion. A British man-of-war, H.M.S. Barracouta, arrived at Apia. Her commander, Captain C. E. Stevens, listened readily to their complaints and came to share their opinions. At a series of meetings, he subjected Steinberger and his activities to a hostile examination, in an attempt, which proved

unavailing, to destroy Samoan confidence in him. In February 1876, when the American consul received his information from Washington, the position of Stevens and his backers was slightly strengthened, in that it became certain that Steinberger was not actively backed by the American government. On the other hand, there was still no evidence that Washington viewed his actions with actual disfavour. In these circumstances, it was decided that Steinberger could be got rid of,

but only through a nominal Samoan request for his deportation. Malietoa Laupepa, never a strong man, was taken aside and browbeaten and intimidated till he signed an order for the deportation. It was clear that Malietoa’s action was unconstitutional and that it was

taken only under duress; but this did not deter the self-righteous conspirators. Steinberger was seized and taken on board the Barracouta.

The Ta’imua and Faipule reacted immediately to the deportation by deposing Malietoa and dismissing the few Samoan office-holders who still supported him. Stevens, thereupon, sent an armed party

ashore to restore the king. It was met by the militia; and, in the

58 SAMOA MO SAMOA fighting that followed, several lives were lost on both sides. Captain Stevens and the British and American consuls all suffered eventual dismissal for their parts in the affair. But, meantime, Steinberger was taken from Samoa. Though he kept in touch with his Samoan friends, he was never to return. And with his departure was ended the most strongly supported and best organized attempt to form an effective Samoan government that the nineteenth century was to witness. But Steinberger’s failure was not primarily of his own making, nor had the inexperience of the Samoans contributed significantly to it. Even Captain Stevens and his associates had been no more than agents of causes that they only vaguely understood. The failure was, indeed, an almost inevitable consequence of the Western impact upon Samoa. Much earlier, in the 1830s, the Tahitian kingdom had become a mockery of sovereign independence when the French had first used threats of force against it. Since the 1850s the Hawaiian government had been forced increasingly to pursue policies that advanced the interests of immigrant planters and merchants, often to the detriment of the Hawaiians themselves. When a unified Fijian government had been formed in 1871, under the nominal headship of King Cakobau, settler interests had attempted to use it quite blatantly as an instrument for the establishment of their own supremacy. Only in Tonga, where Europeai interests were minimal, had a modern form of government emerged and remained effective and relatively uncorrupted. In Samoa

European interests were too strongly entrenched before a serious attempt was—or, because of the character of Samoan traditional politics, could be—made to form such a government. In the 1870s Apia was, next to Honolulu, the most important port in the Pacific islands. Settlers were engaged in developing, or planning to develop, a large proportion of Samoan lands as commercial plantations. Under

these conditions, no Samoan government had any real chance of establishing its authority.

AFTER Steinberger’s departure, the Samoans did not abandon the attempt to maintain an effective central government. The existence of major European interests made such a continuing effort unavoidable, while also condemning it to certain failure. Till 1879 the Steinberger

constitution remained nominally in force, though the kingship was unfilled and the Ta’imua and Faipule, without the guidance of an

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 $9 adroit foreign adviser, became increasingly incapable of maintaining their authority. In the latter year an opposition movement which had grown up round Sa Malieto4a, as a consequence of Malietoa Laupepa’s deposition in 1876, replaced the former government by a bloodless

coup. For the next eight years this new government and its legal successors remained in existence at Mulinu’u, though constantly ignored by sections of the country and from time to time opposed by force. At the highest constitutional level its composition was strongly influenced by the intervention of the consuls, backed by visiting naval officers. In 1881 they secured the appointment as king of Malietoa Laupepa, whom they had long regarded with favour, and of a representative of SA Tupua, Tupua Tamasese Titimaea, as ‘vice-king’. Since the coup of 1879 Tamasese, who held the important title of Tuia’ana, had headed a rival government at Leulumoega, which had continued to fly the flag of the Steinberger régime. By persuading

him to accept office in the Mulinu’u government, with an understanding that the kingship would be held alternately by representatives

of Sa Malietoa and Sa Tupua, the consuls had given the country a semblance of unity, both in formal political terms and in those of the lineage structure; and they had excluded the third major contender for the kingship, Mata’afa Iosefa, who had become unacceptable to

them. Below this level their influence was much less, so that the Ta’imua and Faipule, the district governors, and the secretariat at Mulinu’u functioned under the new government much as they had under the old. Behind the modern constitutional fagade decisions were reached—on the choice of office-holders or on matters of policy—by

customary procedures; and the functions of the government outside Apia remained minimal. But, at the same time, Samoan policy on the issues of foreign encroachment remained firm and clearly defined. Each successive government sought to save the lands from further alienation and to gain the protection of a foreign Power against the increasingly humiliating demands of consuls and naval officers. On the land question governments remained ineffective, since their

authority was so weak; but they continued to stall on the issue of a lands commission, since they feared its decisions on existing claims.

In regard to protection successive governments pursued the policy that had been strongly supported since Steinberger’s first visit. Despairing of American action the Ta’imua and Faipule sent a deputation to Fiji in 1877 to seek the support of the Governor, Sir Arthur Gordon, for a request for British protection. Gordon was willing, however, to

60 SAMOA MO SAMOA recommend only annexation, a course of action to which the Samoans remained violently opposed. Their next move was a renewed appeal

to the United States. M. K. Le Mamea Faleto’ese, a government officer with a good knowledge of English (and the son of a distinguished L.M.S. pastor), was sent to Washington with full powers to

negotiate an agreement with the American government; but this request, also, was declined. Despite these failures, requests continued to be made, through the 1880s, to Britain and to America for protection. The Powers were not uninterested in Samoa, but their interest was centred upon their own advantage and that of their nationals. During 1878 and 1879 the United States, Germany and Britain all entered into treaty relations with Samoa. The three treaties had certain common characteristics. In particular, they all included a ‘most favoured nation’

clause, so that a concession granted to one Power had also to be granted to the others. All three Powers obtained the right to establish a naval station in Samoa, a concession that was more of a humiliation

to the Samoans than an advantage to the recipients. The Powers gained exclusive jurisdiction in disputes between their own nationals and jurisdiction jointly with a Samoan judge in disputes involving their nationals and Samoans. And their nationals were granted exemption

from the payment of import and export duties. This was the most damaging concession of all to the Samoans, since customs duties, because of the simplicity of their assessment and collection, are almost inevitably the major source of revenue in an under-developed country.

The effect of the treaties was accurately stated by A. P. Maudslay, who served as acting-consul for Britain at the time: One cannot help noticing that no representative of a foreign Power ever misses an opportunity of telling the natives that there is nothing that his Government desires to see more than the establishment of a strong and independent Government in Samoa, yet some of the stipulations of the treaties are such that even if the Samoans had the highest capacity for government, the formation of a strong and independent Government is rendered impossible.14

Nor were the treaties the only form of encroachment on Samoan sovereignty. When Sir Arthur Gordon had been in Samoa for the negotiation of the treaty with Britain, he had also secured agreement to the establishment of a municipal authority for the Apia area. The municipality, which was to be controlled by the consuls and repre-

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 61 sentatives of the foreign residents, was. given responsibility for the

maintenance of law and order, the carrying out of public works, and the control of the port. In order that it could perform these functions, it was empowered to impose rates and licence fees and to appropriate the revenue of the port. The need for such an authority arose from the inability of the central government to maintain the type of administration required in an urban area; but its establishment further weakened the government, in terms both of prestige and of its already exiguous sources of revenue. The pressures exerted on successive governments, and upon Samoan leaders generally, by the consuls and by foreign residents were not confined, however, to those deriving from treaty rights. Claims to land or to compensation for real or alleged wrongs continued to be

pressed, openly or through political intrigue. Not infrequently, Europeans sought to encourage Samoan factionalism, in the hope that it could be used to serve their own purposes; and the situation was, indeed, one that lent itself readily to this form of activity.

In times of uncertainty and insecurity the Samoans have always fallen back on their traditional values and traditional objectives. The rivalries between the centres of Tiimua and Pule, between the tama’ diga and their supporters, and between other local and kinship groups have

reasserted themselves and seemed more meaningful than the pursuit

of effective government. The inclusion of Malietoa Laupepa and Tamasese Titimaea, as king and vice-king respectively, in the govern-

ment formed in 1881 was both a recognition of the renewed preoccupation with these rivalries and an attempt to keep one of the most

important of them—that between Sa Malietoa and Sa Tupua— within constitutional bounds. Since European encroachments on Samoan sovereignty had made political stability impossible, traditional

rivalries continued to dominate politics till the end of the century. In 1885 they led to a catastrophic rift. Tupua Tamasese and his

supporters withdrew from the government and established themselves at Leulumoega, the traditional political centre in A’ana district, where they hoisted their own flag. This rift had been actively provoked

by the Germans, as part of a campaign to eliminate British and American influence and gain full control of the country. The German

consul and the manager of the Deutsche Handels- und PlantagenGesellschaft* (successor to Godefftroys) followed it up by systematic

persecution of the Malietoa government and support of Tupua * Referred to, henceforth, as the D.H.P.G.

62 SAMOA MO SAMOA Tamasese. In January 1887 they sent Eugen Brandeis, an employee of

the firm, to Leulumoega to act as premier under Tupua Tamasese. Later in the same year the Tamasese government moved to Mulinu’u, from which the Malietoa government had already been expelled by the Germans.

Administratively, Brandeis set out to fill the role that had been Steinberger’s over ten years before. But, politically, he was a German

tool, receiving credit and arms from the D.H.P.G. and devoting himself to the attainment of German, rather than Samoan, objectives. Unlike Steinberger, who had sought to limit the disruptive effects of Samoan rivalries in order to provide time and scope for the growth of an acceptable modern government, Brandeis relentlessly encouraged Tupua Tamasese in the quest for titular supremacy. Tamasese himself seems to have had doubts as to the wisdom of his seeking the other great titles—Tuiatua, Gatoaitele and Tamaso4li’i—that would make

him tafaifa; but Brandeis had none, for Tamasese’s attainment of nominal supremacy was to be coincident with the actual subjection

of his country to the will of Germany. In the event, Tamasese’s claims to the titles united most of the country in opposition to him and his government. Since Malietoa Laupepa had, by this time, been taken into exile on a German warship, Mata’afa Iosefa was left as

undisputed leader of the popular revolt. When war broke out, the fighting forces on both sides were better supplied with firearms than any previous Samoan armies had been; and those of Tamasese also had the support of German marines. In this dangerous situation, Britain and America sent warships to Apia to protect their nationals. In March 1889, when a violent storm (still referred to as ‘the hurricane’) struck, seven warships of the three Powers were crowded into Apia harbour. Six of them were driven on to the reef or beached, with a huge loss of

life. This tragedy dramatized, in the eyes of the world, the consequences of Western rivalry in regard to Samoa. The Samoans had long been its victims, so that even Tupua Tamasese Titimaea, a leader of talent and character, had had no real alternative to following the course that the Germans had set, because, if he had not, they might well have transferred their support to one of his rivals. But now the Powers—and, in particular, those of their nationals who had lost their lives—had become its victims as well. The case for a renewed attempt on their part to settle the problem of Samoan government had become an overwhelming one. During the immediately preceding years the Powers had, in fact,

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 63 given considerable attention to the Samoan problem. In 1885 and again in 1886 representatives had been sent to Samoa to study the situation

on the spot; and in 1887 a Conference on Samoan Affairs had been held in Washington. But nothing had come of this study and discussion,

since Germany had sought exclusive control and this had been completely unacceptable to the United States. Now, in a chastened mood,

the German goverment proposed that the Conference on Samoan Affairs should resume in Berlin. It met in April; and by the middle of June it had formally agreed on a detailed scheme for the exercise of joint supervision by the three Powers and embodied it in a document— the Final Act of the Conference on Samoan Affairs—to be submitted to the Samoan government for its assent.1 In principle, the independence of Samoa and the right of the Samoan

people to choose their own form of government were recognized; but, in practice, these were to be limited by decisions of the conference

itself and by the procedures that it laid down for continuing supervision. Malietoa Laupepa was named as king. There was to be a chief justice nominated by the Powers, though formally appointed and paid by the Samoan government. The Apia municipality, which had been abolished by the Tamasese government, was to be re-established and to be headed by a president nominated and appointed in the same way as the chief justice. A commission was to be appointed to investi-

gate and report on foreign claims to land. And, finally, detailed provisions were laid down regarding the raising of revenue by both the Samoan government and the municipality. Some of the decisions of the conference reflected, in their excessive

complexity, the concern of the Powers with the protection of their own interests and those of their nationals, rather than with the estab-

lishment of a workable system of government. The controlling authority in the municipality, for example, was to be a council consisting of the president and six members elected by taxpayers; but regulations made by the council were to require the approval of the consuls, who were also to have the right to propose amendments, and the chief justice was to be empowered to determine any issues on which the council and the consuls might be unable to reach agreement.

Finally, the president was to be subject to directions issued jointly by the three Powers. Decisions affecting public finance removed some existing restrictions

and imposed a number of new ones. The Samoan government was conceded the right of imposing any form of taxation not dealt

64 SAMOA MO SAMOA with in the Act; but the provisions of the latter were so comprehensive that no real freedom of action was left. The Act further declared that its terms should prevail over anything inconsistent with them in existing treaties between the three Powers and Samoa. This

permitted the imposition of import and export duties; but the Act itself fixed the rates of duty, and appropriated most of the proceeds to the municipality. Taken as a whole, the financial provisions ensured an adequate revenue to the municipality, which would provide most of the services of importance to foreigners, but neglected the needs of the government. Rather more helpful were the decisions intended to provide the government with expert advice. The chief justice was given, in addition to his judicial functions, the right of making recommendations for the

enactment of legislation for the maintenance of order and ‘the prevention and punishment of crime’; and the president of the municipality was to be general adviser to the government in respect of all revenue raised in accordance with the provisions of the Act. Compared

with Steinberger, the new advisers would lack the intimate contact with the Samoan leaders that had made him so peculiarly acceptable; but, provided the Powers nominated men of talent and integrity (as, in fact, they did), they would lack also the taint of adventurism that had made him so vulnerable to attack by the consuls and foreign residents.

Most helpful of all was a provision for the setting up of a lands commission composed of nominees of each of the Powers and assisted

by a ‘Natives’ Advocate’. This ensured that land claims would be investigated under conditions very favourable to the Samoans, since,

even if the nominee of a particular Power should be predisposed towards favouring the claims of his own nationals, he would be outnumbered by two to one on the commission. In the event, the lands commission was strikingly fair and thorough in its work. Although it inevitably recommended confirmation of claims to large areas of land (totalling 135,000 acres), it rejected those to a far greater area.* For the future, the Act provided that sales of unalienated land should be permitted only within the municipal area, where each transaction

would require the approval of the chief justice. Elsewhere, only leases for a maximum period of forty years were to be allowed, and

these were to require the approval of both the king and the chief * The total area specified in claims was 1,690,000 acres, or more than twice the area of Samoa. The area recommended for confirmation was about eight per cent. of this total.

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 65 justice. The Act and the work of the commission thus removed the land question from the field of active political controversy. The decisions of the conference quite failed, however, to destroy, or even to control, the traditional rivalries which had reasserted themselves so strongly during the preceding years. Malietoa Laupepa was

named as king because Mata’afa Iosefa was unacceptable to the Germans and Tupua Tamasese Titimaea to the British and Americans. The choice was thus one of diplomatic expediency, not one based on a rational assessment of the situation in Samoa. In fact, during Laupepa’s exile the Malietoa title had been conferred on Mata’afa Iosefa. And,

after the conference had ended but before the terms of its Final Act were known, the party of Mata’afa (or Malietoa Mata’afa, as he then was) made its own decision as to the kingship. It appointed Mata’afa as king and Malietoa Laupepa, whom the Germans had recently brought back to Samoa, as vice-king. This settlement seems to have had very

widespread support, including that of Malictoa Laupepa. But, when the decision of the conference became known, the consuls took it upon themselves to annul both appointments. The Samoans did not dispute the consular action. They appointed Malietoa Laupepa as king; and he, in turn, gave his assent to the Final Act, as the conference had intended that he should.

Superficially, the new government entered upon office with a number of advantages. It was assured of the united support of the Powers and had the prospect of obtaining experienced advisers, as soon as the appointment should be made of a chief justice and a president of the municipality. Tupua Tamasese Titimaea and his party accepted it, as preferable to one led by their recent antagonist, Mata’afa Iosefa; and even Mata’afa himself did not at first oppose it, since, like Laupepa, he drew some of his support from Sa Malietoi. But, at a deeper level, it was in difficulties from the start. Malietoa Laupepa’s assent to the Final Act associated him with its most unpopular provisions. The establishment of a municipality that was both more

powerful and more adequately financed than the government itself was seen as a humiliation to Samoan dignity, as the loss of the pule over an important part of the country. The provision for the levying of a head tax on all Samoans was disliked both in itself and as a reminder of the time when the Tamasese-Brandeis government had levied a similar tax and collected it with the assistance of German warships. And, as in the past, nominal acceptance of the government did not necessarily indicate willingness to act in accordance with its

66 SAMOA MO SAMOA dictates. Although the government at Mulinu’u soon began to show

considerable energy in the making of laws and in other matters within its competence, a large part of Samoa ignored its decisions and refused to pay taxes.

The situation was one in which the traditional struggle for titular supremacy was bound to reassert itself. From the beginning many of Mata’afa’s supporters had resented his loss of the kingship; and before long his own attitude to his successor became one of open rivalry. On Malietoa Laupepa’s side, a nominal supremacy based largely on the decision of the Powers came to be seen as but a hollow victory. The death of Tupua Tamasese Titimaea in June 1891 provided the occasion for an open struggle. Both Malietoa Laupepa and Mata’afa

sought the vacant title of Tuia’ana. The former sought, in addition, to obtain confirmation of his position as king in the traditional way,

through an appropriate distribution of fine mats. The latter, still possessing support as a holder of the Malietoa title, established a rival

government at Malie, the original home of Sa Malietoa. Two years later, in 1893, Malietoa Laupepa and his government made war on the ‘rebels’ and put them to flight. With the assistance of British and German warships, the leaders of the Mata’afa party were captured. Mata’afa himself and ten others were deported; and a much larger number was sentenced either to imprisonment or to the payment of heavy fines.

The victory did little to improve Malietoa Laupepa’s standing. The severity of the punishments inflicted, and the fact that they had been imposed by foreign naval officers, left lasting resentment. Although Mata’afa had been removed from the scene, there was another contender for titular supremacy to take his place. This was Tupua Tamasese Lealofi, the son and successor of Titimaea. At Leulumoega

and Lufilufi, the traditional centres of A’ana and Atua, where Sa Tupuia influence was predominant, a succession of revolts was organ-

ized in support of his claims; and the help of foreign warships was invoked to put them down. The final test of the 1889 settlement came with the death of Malietoa

Laupepa in August 1898. The conference had recognized the right of the Samoans to elect a king and had provided that any dispute in regard to such an election should be settled by the chief justice; but neither the conference nor the Samoan government had provided any electoral procedure. In these circumstances, rival groups elected Mata’afa Iosefa, who returned to Samoa in September, and Malietoa

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-I900 67 Laupepa’s eighteen-year-old son, Tanumafili. When the dispute came before the chief justice, he ruled in favour of Malietoa Tanumafili.

The result was civil war. A ‘provisional government’ was formed under Mata’afa; it was deposed, in turn, by British and American naval forces; and Malietoa was restored to office, only to be defeated again by Mata’afa’s forces.

In April 1899 the three Powers appointed a commission to take temporary control of the country and make recommendations for its future government. As a first step towards establishing the peace, it persuaded both Mata’afa and Malietoa to agree to the handing over of the arms of their respective forces. When this was accomplished, it announced that it accepted the chief justice’s decision that Malietoa Tanumafili was king; and it then persuaded him to resign the office, so that the field was cleared for future developments. A new provisional

government was appointed consisting of the consuls of the three Powers, with the newly arrived president of the municipality, Dr Wilhelm Solf, as its executive officer.

Meanwhile, the German government had proposed to the United States and Britain that the islands should be partitioned. After some months of discussion, an agreement was reached towards the end of the year. The United States would acquire Tutuila, with its useful harbour of Pago Pago, and the isolated Manu’a group; the remainder of Samoa

would become German; and Britain, in return for its agreement to this arrangement, would obtain recognition by the Germans of certain of its claims and interests in other parts of the Pacific and in Africa. The attempts to create a government that would leave the Samoans in control of their country despite the changed conditions resulting from the impact of the West were thus brought ignominiously to an end.

POLITICALLY, the nineteenth century had been a period of turmoil in

Samoa, a period in which traditional forms of authority had become increasingly inadequate in the face of changing conditions and in which every attempt to achieve the reorganization necessary for the establishment of stability had ended in failure. But only very partially, and for quite limited periods, had the political struggles disrupted the day-today activities of ordinary people, so that they had imposed relatively

little hindrance on the processes of social and economic change.

68 SAMOA MO SAMOA Visitors arriving on the steamships that called regularly at Apia in the

later years noted the well-built churches, the stores filled with imported foodstuffs and cotton piece-goods for sale to their Samoan customers, the substantial offices of the D.H.P.G., the Samoan pedlars of curios and local foodstuffs plying their trade in the main street of

the town. When they went beyond Apia, they saw not only the surviving strength of Samoan tradition, in the political and ceremonial life of the villages, but also many marks of change. Everywhere the influence of Christianity and of commerce was evident. Knowledge of the scriptures seemed deeply implanted in every Samoan mind. Every village engaged in the cutting of copra for sale to the traders. And chiefs and pastors who spoke English sought out the visitors and

talked with them of the wider world, not infrequently against a background of personal acquaintance with foreign lands. One of the more important results of foreign contact had been the creation of a community of mixed Samoan-European descent. Many of its members possessed little standing in the eyes of either the Samoans or the Europeans. Such people were regarded, round Apia particularly, as a trouble-making element that conformed to the standards of neither European nor Samoan society and lived by its wits at the expense of both. But many others, generally the offspring of stable marriages between respectable settlers and Samoan women of some standing, were of a very different type. As far back as the "forties and ’fifties reputable Europeans had begun to establish themselves in many parts of Samoa, creating a substantial position for themselves, generally as traders, and bringing up their families to respect both their European and their Samoan heritage. One of the early settlers of this type was John Stowers (commonly known as ‘Monkey Jack’), a former English stone-mason, who settled at Lano, in Fa’asaleleaga.* He had his sons trained as tradesmen and both his sons and daughters given as good a general education as he could manage. Some of them, and of their

children, in turn, played an active part in the life both of Samoan * John Stowers died on 13 Jan. 1884 (recorded in Coe family bible, Australian

National Library). W. B. Churchward, who visited Lano later that month, included an interesting account of the family in My Consulate in Samoa (London,

1887), 31-2, 326-8. He commented: “Grandchildren and other relations were sprinkled all over the place, and from the fact that the old man had reared ten children, all of whom had married early, the relations, from a Samoan point of view, would have filled a considerable-sized town’. The 1945 census recorded 172 persons with the surname of Stowers, all presumably direct descendants of ‘Monkey Jack’ in the male line.

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-I900 69 society and of the European community. Another—a somewhat later

arrival—was August Nelson, a Swede, who came to Samoa after working as a goldminer in Australia. He married the daughter of a leading chief of Safune, in the Gagaifomauga district of Savai’i, where he established himself as a trader. His son Olaf Frederick Nelson, who was later to achieve spectacular success in business and great prominence as a political leader, spent most of the 1890s in Apia, first as a

schoolboy and then as an employee of the D.H.P.G. About the turn of the century he returned to Safune to reorganize his father’s business and to learn the traditions and ways of thought of the land of his birth. O. F. Nelson was unusual in the talent and energy that he brought to these pursuits. But his combination of interest in the modern and the

traditional worlds was characteristic of many of the abler partSamoans. It lay at the basis of their future importance. By 1900 none

had yet risen to a position of great prominence. But many were employed—as clerks, interpreters, and traders—in positions in which their knowledge of both the English and Samoan languages was put to good use. The foundations of their role as mediators between the two cultures had thus been laid. A no less important consequence of European contact had been the emergence of a considerable group of Samoans whose influence was largely based on the missions and on the education that the missions provided. The most striking example of this development is that of the L.M.S. pastor Va’aelua Petaia and his family.* Petaia himself had become a student in the theological seminary at Malua in 1845, the

year of its foundation. He was one of the group of Samoans who assisted in the translation of the bible into the Samoan language. The remainder of his life was spent as teacher and pastor at Faleasi’u, in A’ana. He married twice. By his first marriage he had one son, Le Mamea Faleto’ese;} by his second he had six sons and two daughters, nearly all of whom had careers of some interest. * Va’aelua is a tuldfale title of Lalomalava, a pitonu’u of Iva, in Fa’asaleleaga. Va’aelua Petaia was thus a matai, though the L.M.S. did not generally favour the holding of matai titles by its teachers and pastors. Petaia is a Samoanized form of the biblical name Pedaiah. Like other pastors, Petaia considered that a biblical

name was appropriate, and he is said to have spent much time in finding one that would be uncommon. He found it in Nehemiah, Ill, 25: ‘Palal the son of Uzai. ... After him Pedaiah the son of Parosh’, + Le Mamea was the matai title that he acquired, of course, only after he had reached adult years. For convenience, I have referred to him and to other members of the Petaia family by the titles they possessed during their public careers.

70 SAMOA MO SAMOA Particularly notable was the family’s contribution to the work of government. Three of Petaia’s sons and a larger number of his grandsons held government office—a record of service extending from the 1870s to the present day. During the period before 1900 both

Le Mamea and his half-brother Te’o Tuvale occupied positions of

importance in a number of governments. Before his mission to Washington Le Mamea had served as chief secretary and interpreter at Mulinu’u, as a judge and as a Faipule. After his return he was again chief secretary at various times during the 1880s. Te’o Tuvale was appointed assistant secretary at Mulinu'u in 1878. Before 1900 he had held the positions of secretary of A’ana district, chief secretary at Mulinu’u, “Native Clerk’ to the lands commission and judge. Like Le Mamea, he travelled abroad, spending some years in Fiji during the politically disordered years of the late “eighties and visiting Germany at the beginning of the present century. His active career continued till his death in 1919, so that he served under both the Germans and the New Zealanders, when the old government secretariat at Mulinu’u had become the office through which a colonial administration conducted

its relations with the Samoan people. As early as 1900 the first of several of his nephews to join the Mulinu’u office was appointed, on

his recommendation. The contribution of members of the Petaia family to the work of government was a direct consequence of their adaptability to changing conditions. Va’aelua Petaia had understood the importance of education; and his sons and grandsons were thus fitted to play a dominant role in the foundation of a Samoan civil service.

The family was no less prominent in the work of the L.M.S. Three of Va’aelua Petaia’s sons became pastors;* and one of his two daughters became a pastor’s wife. In the Samoan setting this association has been

complementary, rather than in contrast, to that with government service, since the L.M.S. has always been concerned with education and

with the preservation of custom, as well as with its strictly religious functions. The mission published, for example, a book containing the fa’ alupega and thus greatly assisted the preservation of a traditional element in Samoan political life in times of change.!® The compilation of this book was begun by Le Mamea and largely completed by Te’o Tuvale and one of his pastor brothers. There is a consistency, therefore, * One of these, L. T. Faleto’ese, also served as a clerk in the Tamasese-~Brandeis

government and later as a school-teacher in the German period.

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 71 in the fact that the Petaia family has continued, in successive generations, to produce pastors and school-teachers, as well as civil servants and politicians.

It is equally consistent with Samoan tradition that the family’s position in the traditional order has been powerfully affected by its prominence in church and state and by the high level of education of its members. Many of its men have been elected to matai titles of some

importance, often on the basis of eligibility through tama fafine connections; and some of its women have been sought in marriage by matai of very high standing.* In a society as rigorously aristocratic in its attitudes as the Samoan, the attainment of a high position through ability, energy and education does not always make for popularity. As early as 1881 W. B. Church-

ward, the acting British Consul, noted the common criticisms of Le Mamea. His political history is always hinted at as being of a somewhat uncertain

nature, but to my knowledge he is no worse than many of his friends. He has always had his weather-eye open for an advantage, and having been rather more successful than his contemporaries, has earned their unfriendly judgment.!”

Moreover, the display of some measure of circumspection, of reticence

and of compromise is always a condition of survival for those who

would serve governments of varying complexions. But, though criticisms were made, they did not greatly affect the course of events.

Samoa, like England, has been a country that has combined the maintenance of aristocratic standards with a realistic acceptance of

talent and achievement. And in nineteenth-century Samoa the pastor's household had become a particularly important source of recruits to the establishment, as the English vicarage had been for centuries.

Men of education had a special role, of course, as the exponents and administrators of new ideas and techniques. But this does not mean

that, conversely, the leaders of political conservatism in the late nineteenth century were wholly steeped in tradition and uninfluenced * When Western Samoa became independent in 1962, a great-grandson of Va’aelua Petaia was the Minister for Agriculture (Asiata Tuila’epa Lagolago), a great-grand-daughter was the wife of the Prime Minister (the Masiofo Fetaui Mata’afa), and another great-grand-daughter was the wife of the Minister for Justice (Mrs Alaitupu ’Anapu). A great-grandson, Luamanuvae Va’aelua Eti, had recently retired from the position of Minister for Health.

72 SAMOA MO SAMOA by new ideas or lacking in formal education. One of the most influential conservatives at that period—and certainly the most eminent

in German times—was Lauaki Namulau’ulu Mamoe.!® Lauaki possessed the talent and ambition that had so often in the past made the

leading orators of the pule centres the dominant figures in Samoan politics; and, as the holder of the important orator title of Namulauw’ulu

at Safotulafai, he occupied a position that enabled him to make full use of his talents. His primary political allegiance derived from the association of Safotulafai with the bestowal of the Malietoa title. During the period of rivalry between Malietoa Laupepa and Malietoa Talavou, he had been an active partisan of the former, opposing a settlement between the two factions, and organizing Laupepa’s forces for the expulsion of the Talavou government from Mulinu’u in 1870.

In 1887, after Malietoa Laupepa had been taken into exile by the Germans, he accepted the position of governor of Fa’asaleleaga under

the Tamasese-Brandeis government; but, when Tupua Tamasese began his quest for titular supremacy, he took a leading part in having the Malietoa title conferred on Mata’afa Iosefa and, subsequently, in organizing Mata’afa’s military campaign against the government. In

1898, after Malietoa Laupepa’s death, he successfully campaigned for Savai’i support of Mata’afa’s claim to the kingship. In all these activities he had used the traditional repertoire of the great orator: brilliant and allusive oratory; deep knowledge of history and tradition;

and skill in political intrigue. He, and others like him, had brought to the pursuit of factionalism an enthusiasm far surpassing that of the leaders—the tama diga—on whose behalf they were nominally acting. Yet Lauaki was, in many ways, a man of the nineteenth century. The name Lauaki itself was a Tongan one—a matapule title of Ha’apai— originally conferred on his father by Taufa’ahau (later King George I

of Tonga); and it was generally used in preference to his eminent Samoan title of Namulau’ulu.* European visitors—such as Henry Adams, the historian—became guests in his household when they visited Safotulafai. And he was active in the affairs of the L.M.S.

The nineteenth century had also produced innovations of an institutional kind that had a lasting effect upon Samoan political * The position of a matapule in Tonga was comparable to that of a tuldfale in Samoa. Taufa’ahau visited Safotulafai and is said to have conferred the title of Lauaki on Namulau’ulu in recognition of the warm reception he received there. The elder Lauaki—like his son—seems to have been a prominent churchman. He took the Christian name of Atamu (Adam).

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 73 thinking. One of these was the practice of raising subscriptions—in money or in kind—for special purposes. The practice had its origin in the annual collections made by the Protestant missions; but it had also been used to provide funds for the payment of indemnities demanded by consuls and naval officers. Another was the system of taxation originally devised by the earlier municipality and further elaborated in the Final Act of 1889. This included, as its most important elements,

the levying of customs duties and a variety of licence fees and taxes directly related to an individual’s involvement in the money economy.* The Samoans have continued to prefer taxes of this kind, supplemented

by subscriptions for specific projects, to the imposition of direct taxation upon the mass of the people. The idea of rotating government offices among the representatives of rival groups, which had characterized Steinberger’s constitution and political practice, had also made a lasting impact. Indeed, one of the weaknesses of the 1881 constitution, under which Malietoa Laupepa became king and Tupua Tamasese Titimaea vice-king, was felt by many Samoans to be its lack of clear provision for alternation of the two offices between Sa Malietoa and Sa Tupua representatives. The

1889 settlement, which made Malietoa Laupepa king for life, was unpopular for the same reason, as well as because of its overruling of the Samoans’ choice of Mata’afa as the immediate holder of the office. Both these decisions were largely imposed by Europeans. Samoan leaders themselves, at least when concern for political harmony took precedence over personal ambition, seem to have favoured alternation. When Tupua Tamasese Titimaea was seriously ill in 1889, and believed himself to be dying, he is said to have called the leaders of both his own and Mata’afa’s forces before him and to have declared: “Let Sa Malietoa and Sa Tupua take turns in kingship, and there shall be no more wars and bloodshed in Samoa for ever, but all shall live in unity and peace’. And Malietoa Laupepa is said to have made a declaration shortly before his death in similar terms: *. . . Mata’afa Iosefa is to succeed me in the kingship. The heirs of Sa Malietoa and Sa Tupua should take turns . . .’.1° At the highest levels, and in relation to less senior government positions, this system, of ‘taking turns’ has continued to appeal to many Samoans. It is, of course, a practice closely * For example, the Final Act provided for ‘licence taxes’ on persons engaging as ‘proprietor or manager’ in a trade or profession, a tax on houses (other than Samoan dwelling houses), and a tax on boats (‘excluding native canoes and native boats carrying only the owner’s property’).

74 SAMOA MO SAMOA akin to that traditionally followed within an ’diga of favouring the succession to a deceased matai of his eldest surviving brother rather than his son. The establishment of a Samoan government at Mulinu’u and of a European-controlled municipality in Apia also had lasting effects upon Samoan thinking. The area of the municipality had become known to the Samoans as the ’ele’ele sa (the forbidden ground), a term used in bitterness and reproach; and the government offices there continued to be regarded by Samoans for nearly half a century as centres of an alien, and largely antagonistic, authority. Mulinu’u, on the other hand, which had possessed no political significance till the end of the ’sixties, had become before 1900 the venerated meeting place of the Samoan

people. It was a place where it was appropriate for tama diga to be buried, the place to which Samoans continued to come seeking justice or the attainment of their national aspirations.

There had been changes, also, during the nineteenth century in the traditional political structure. The allegiance of some villages to their districts had wavered, as when, for example, Lauli’i, in Tuamasaga, had temporarily attached itself to Atua, because, unlike the

rest of the district, it supported Mata’afa Iosefa in the contest for the kingship. But of far greater importance had been a permanent change in the political organization of Savai'i. During the years following Steinberger’s deportation, when the Ta’imua and Faipule gradually lost

their authority, and were finally deposed, the allegiance of Palaulli, Satupa itea, Safotu and Asau to the two centres of Pule, Safotulafai and

Saleaula, was severely strained. A decade later, during the revolt of Mata’afa’s forces against the Tamasese-Brandeis government, the position of Safotulafai and Saleaula was further weakened, and Palauli

and Safotu gained the status of political centres of Tiimua, the traditional organization of Upolu. To prevent a final breakdown, and to turn back the encroachment of Timua in Savai’i, the two centres of Pule decided to concede the four district centres a status similar to their own.?° All these changes in the period between the arrival of John Williams in 1830 and the establishment of colonial rule in 1900 had resulted, in the ultimate analysis, from contact with the Western world. But they had not been imposed by Europeans. The Samoans had rejected

the attempts of foreigners to dictate solutions to their problems, whether of the kingship or of the structure and functioning of the church. And the attempts themselves had created a new form of

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 75 tension. The careless rapture with which the Samoans had welcomed the foreigners, as the possessors of a superior technology and a new

learning, had been replaced by an attitude of caution and, to some extent, of suspicion and resentment. In the ‘seventies Samoans had begun to doubt the goodwill of many even of those Europeans with whom their relations had been closest. J. C. Williams had become involved in land speculation. The missionaries of the L.M.S. had become antagonistic to Steinberger, and some of them had sought British annexation of Samoa. Their resistance to the increasing influence of the pastors had been seen as another element in an all pervasive attitude: that of opposition to Samoan autonomy in church and state. The Samoans, jealous of their personal standing in relation to one another and of any encroachment upon their common privileges or aspirations, had devoted themselves to the pursuit, or defence, of

what they conceived to be their rights. In the L.M.S. the pastors had continued the struggle to reduce the power of the missionaries.

In matters of politics, the people had continued to be adamantly opposed to control by a foreign Power. Samoa had remained Samoa. It had continued to evolve according to the particular logic of its own culture. And this fact was to become the most important determinant of its future political evolution.

4 COLONIAL PATERNALISM 1900-26 N February 1900 Germany declared a protectorate over all of [somes west of 171° west longitude; and on 1 March the German flag was raised at Mulinu’u. These actions were regarded as having constituted the islands German territory.! Since the German government did not consider itself the legal successor of any previous government, no formal treaty of cession was negotiated; but expressions of loyalty to the Emperor and the new régime were obtained from Samoan leaders, including Mata’afa Iosefa.*

Dr Wilhelm Solf, the former president of the municipality and executive officer of the provisional government, was appointed Governor of German Samoa. Solf was a man of quite unusual talent,

clear-thinking, sensitive to the nuances of Samoan attitudes and opinion, determined, and possessed of the qualities of presence and manner that won ready acceptance of his position of authority. Though he had not been long in Samoa, his experience of the country had been gained during a period of conflict and uncertainty, when—as always at such times—the seminal points of rivalry had been nakedly exposed to view. Nor was his knowledge limited to what could be learnt in the environs of Apia, for, like Steinberger before him, he had travelled round the country soon after his arrival to make direct contact with the

people of the villages. At the time of the flag-raising he had not received detailed instructions from Berlin on many matters of policy. But he was in little doubt as to what had to be done. On the European side, he was expected to promote the prosperity of the D.H.P.G.; and this obligation he found congenial, since he considered that large-scale * Unlike Germany, the United States did seek a formal cession of sovereignty. It sought this, however, from the leading chiefs of Tutuila and Manu’a, not from the previous Samoan government (which had, of course, surrendered its powers

to the provisional government composed of the three consuls). In Tutuila the necessary signatures were obtained. In Manu’a, on the other hand, the Tuimanu’a declined to sign, though—like the leaders in the western islands—he acknow-

ledged the authority of the new régime in a less legally explicit manner. See J. A. C. Gray, Amerika Samoa: A History of American Samoa and its United States Naval Administration (Annapolis, Maryland, 1960), 108-17.

76

COLONIAL PATERNALISM I900-26 77 plantation agriculture provided the soundest basis for the country’s economic development. On the Samoan side, he was expected to support Mata afa Iosefa and the leaders of Tiimua and Pule, who composed the malo. This obligation he accepted as being unavoidable. During the opening months of German rule, Mata’afa was permitted to continue making appointments of Samoan officials, as though he

was the head of an independent government; and the Governor merely confirmed them. Finally, Solf inherited the administrative structure and the body of law created by the Samoan government at Mulinu’u and the municipality of Apia; and these he retained, till change became desirable or necessary.

In those areas of politics and administration that did not impinge directly upon Samoan custom, the new government built, in the main,

upon the existing foundations. New departments were established. Additional officers were appointed. Most of these were Germans, often

of considerable competence, though a few, such as the Irishman, Richard Williams, who became administrator (amtmann) in Savai’i, were old residents of non-German nationality. The most important of the changes that were made was the abolition of the municipality. In its political role, as a forum for the expression of settler opinion, it was replaced by a Government Council composed of senior officials and European residents, which advised the Governor on matters of

policy. The inclusion of non-Germans in the council, like their appointment to administrative positions, underlined the government’s intention that its policy should be one which settlers and missionaries

of all nationalities could support. Tax revenues rapidly increased, road-building and other public works were undertaken, and plans for economic development were formulated. These activities, in turn, stimulated economic growth. The planting of cocoa and rubber, which was under way before 1900,

was greatly expanded; and new companies were formed, both in Germany and elsewhere, to develop plantations in Samoa. Before 1900 a considerable force of Melanesian labourers had been working on the

plantations of the D.H.P.G. In 1903 the first group of Chinese was introduced; and by 1914 over 2,000 Chinese were in the colony, providing an effective labour force for the European plantations. The

government itself played an active part in this development: by bringing experts to Samoa to report on the country’s resources and potential; by supporting the experimental gardens of the L.M.S. and

the Catholic mission; and, not least, by its programme of road-

78 SAMOA MO SAMOA building. In addition, it strove to increase production by the Samoans themselves. Samoan landholders were required to plant a minimum number of coconut palms each year; and, in return, they were given advice on improved agricultural methods, and efforts were made to protect them against dishonest practices—such as the use of inaccurate scales—by unscrupulous traders. Many of these developments required a long period in which to reveal their full effects, and some measures— particularly those directed towards the Samoans—failed to achieve the results that had been expected; but, over all, the period of German rule

was the most progressive, economically, that the country has experienced.?

In its political relations with the Samoan people, the government showed similar qualities of intelligence and care in matters of detail. Solf recognized that his authority depended, in no small degree, upon his knowledge of the country and upon his being known personally to its people. He travelled frequently and held meetings in the political

centres to explain his intentions. He recognized, too, the necessity for resolving disputes relating to matai titles and the tenure of land, if peace and order were to prevail. He and his officers worked un-

ceasingly at unravelling the intricacies of these problems and at promulgating decisions. But the establishment of satisfactory relations between an alien government and the indigenous people involves far

more, in any new colony, than the devising of administrative procedures. In Samoa, where the old political structure remained so largely intact and where past relations with foreigners had been so tangled, this problem was one of particular importance and complexity. Solf’s approach to it was essentially paternalistic. The people must recognize the Emperor as their tupu sili (paramount king) and accept

the exercise of his authority by his representative, the Governor. Samoan political structure, however, could not be ignored. But, in making this concession to local circumstance, his motive was far different, for example, from that which had lain behind the establish-

ment of ‘native authorities’ in the Colony of Fiji. There, nearly a quarter of a century earlier, the first Governor, Sir Arthur Gordon, had sought to base his system of local administration upon indigenous

forms of authority because he believed that ‘the more the native polity is retained, native agency employed, and changes avoided, until

naturally and spontaneously called for’, the less likely was colonial rule to result in ‘tyranny’, ‘violence’ and ‘injustice’. Solf, on the other

COLONIAL PATERNALISM I900-26 79 hand, intended to recognize Samoan institutions and traditional attitudes only because he saw that to do so was temporarily unavoidable. His long-term objective was that of breaking them down. “The

government's aim must be to get rid of the Central Government in Mulinu’u, this lazy body of intriguers, and to confine the Samoan self-government to districts and villages’, he wrote in 1901.3 With further experience, he came to believe that even the districts should be ruled directly: only in the individual villages was it desirable to let the

Samoans administer their own affairs. But he understood that the attainment of this objective would require long years of intricate political manoeuvring. Solf’s initial problem was that of reconciling short-term needs and

long-term ends. The commitment to support Mata’afa, though he disliked it, rested on hard facts. Mata’afa was accepted by the majority of Samoans as their titular head; and he and his supporters were inclined to favour the Germans, since the latter had opposed Malietoa Tanumafili’s claim to the kingship two years earlier. On the other hand, the Mata’afa party saw itself as a traditional malo, entitled to all the prerogatives of supremacy. And, like the Samoans generally, it regarded the German role as essentially similar to that of the three Powers after 1889—that of a friendly protector, rather than an administering authority. When the Samoan government was functioning effectively, it was commonly thought, the Germans might withdraw, perhaps under pressure from Britain and the United States. Solf’s tactics were, therefore, necessarily complex. He had to accord

a place in the new government to Mata’afa and his supporters and, at the same time, to make it clear that their place was a subordinate one, deriving no longer from custom but from the will of Germany.

Mata’afa himself was to be granted the position of Alii Sili (paramount chief). He was, therefore, asked to make recommendations for the appointment of Samoan officials of various grades, but these officials were not all to be chosen from his own supporters. This last requirement directly conflicted with the majority party’s conception of its rights. It made some moves to effect a reconciliation with Malietoa Tanumafili’s supporters; but, as these were unsuccessful, there seemed no case—on customary grounds—for recommending any of them for government office. When Mata’afa refused to compromise on this issue, Solf by-passed him and talked directly with leaders of Tiimua and Pule. This technique of dividing the Samoans, which Solf was

80 SAMOA MO SAMOA frequently to use, broke the deadlock; and a list of office-holders including leading members of Malietoa Tanumafili’s party was drawn up. In August those selected were received at Mulinu’u by the Governor and formally appointed to office. The Samoans, he declared, were to be permitted to administer themselves under his ‘supervision and control’. Mata’afa, as Ali’i Sili, was to be the intermediary ‘through whom the wishes and orders of the Governor are made known to the Samoans’.

Associated with him would be a council known as the Faipule. Its members, however, included the tama’diga, as well as matai of less elevated rank. At Mata’afa’s request these members, who included Tupua Tamasese Lealofi and Fa’alata (a son of Malietoa Talavou),* were accorded the title of Ta’imua, so that something of the nineteenthcentury bi-cameral system of Ta’imua and Faipule remained. Both the Ali’i Sili and the members of the council made their homes at Mulinu’u and were referred to collectively as the malé. Certain influential matai,

whom Solf thought it necessary to placate, were appointed district chiefs (ta’ita’i iti); and each village was to have an officer to maintain order within it, the pulenu’u. The existing judicial establishment of a Samoan chief judge and district judges was left unchanged. In structure, therefore, the new administration closely resembled the old Samoan governments. To Solf this was, of course, a weakness. He hoped that his own authority and the presence of some of Mata’afa’s opponents among the office-holders would prevent the emergence of a Samoan drive for autonomy. But he was not unprepared for difficulties. In the event, Solf’s initial assessment was a favourable one. Several weeks after the new arrangements had been inaugurated he informed Berlin that Tamasese, ‘the most powerful of Mata’afa’s adversaries, was living next to him at Mulinu’u and that Mata’afa himself was ‘now

subservient’. “The further aim of the Government’, he concluded, ‘will be to find ways and means to render ineffectual as a political factor, and slowly to do away with the institution of the Tumua and Pule. .. .’> While waiting for a suitable time to take direct action towards that end, he used such opportunities as arose to undermine the Samoan administration in lesser ways. In 1903 the Samoan chief judge was prevailed on to retire on grounds of ill health; and Solf declined to * Malietoa Tanumafili went to Fiji, by arrangement with the British, for further education (and to reduce the danger of factional strife). On his return to

Samoa several years later, he took little part in politics. He left to the older Fa’alata the representation of the family in the affairs of government.

COLONIAL PATERNALISM I9Q00-26 SI appoint a successor. In the same year a Land and Titles Commission was appointed to decide disputes relating to land and the holding of matai titles. Its members were Europeans; but Samoans carefully selected for their loyalty to the German régime were appointed as advisers. The relative success of this policy was made possible partly by the Samoan clerks at Mulinu’u, such as Afamasaga Maua,* who

brought the Governor detailed reports on Samoan opinion, and partly by Solf’s own qualities. He maintained the personal respect even of his opponents, since he, in turn, was fair and perceptive in his judgement of them. None the less, many Samoans were conscious of the divergence between the Governor’s friendly manner and his determination to establish his authority. In 1901 Solf himself noted that Lauaki Mamoe —the ablest of the leaders of Timua and Pule—whom he described as ‘a grand, eloquent speaker’ who ‘carries much weight in the eyes of

the Samoans’, was publicly saying that the government’s intention was to weaken the people by dividing them and that, in time, even the position of Alii Sili would be abolished. Mata’afa and the Ta’imua

and Faipule saw that their actual role was largely restricted to the endorsement and execution of decisions of the Governor. The chiefs and orators in the villages felt that custom was being encroached upon

by the government’s economic and other policies. There was the inevitable dislike of the payment of poll tax; and, when the price paid by the merchants for copra was reduced in 1904, a final stimulus was given to the organization of open opposition. On the economic side, the Samoans’ sense of grievance was shared

by some of the settlers and, more especially, by the considerably larger group of persons of mixed descent. Planters working on a relatively small scale resented the government’s preference for largescale enterprise and, in particular, its close relations with the D.H.P.G.

Part-Samoans resented their inferior economic, as well as social, position. It was a member of the latter group, recently returned from America, who provided the Samoan leaders with a concrete objective.

He proposed the formation of a trading company by the malé at Mulinu’u. Capital would be raised by a levy on all villages, in the same way as it had been raised to pay indemnities demanded by consuls and

naval officers in the nineteenth century; and all copra produced by * Afamasaga Maua was a son of Va’aelua Petaia’s daughter, Meleane. He was appointed to the Mulinu’u office in 1900 on the recommendation of his uncle, Te’o Tuvale. He died in the influenza epidemic of 1918.

82 SAMOA MO SAMOA Samoans would be purchased at a price much higher than that being

received from the merchants. The idea took root that the profits would be sufficient to support the malo itself; and in this event, it was

suggested, the Germans might withdraw and leave the Samoans to govern themselves.

Solf’s reaction to the proposal was inevitably one of opposition. Apart from its broader political implications, it immediately threatened the position of the merchants, since many Samoans ceased cutting copra

in the hope of obtaining higher prices from the new company later on. Moreover, Solf had no doubt that the company would be a failure,

creating disputes over the payment of the levy and soon ending in scandal, recriminations and disorganization. He, therefore, told the mald to abandon it.

Despite this instruction, the Samoans went ahead. They believed that the Governor was acting in the interests of the merchants. And, beyond that, the underlying rivalries within the Mulinu’u hierarchy— between Mata’afa and Tupua Tamasese, between both and the leaders

of Timua and Pule—made it politically dangerous for anyone to appear less committed than his colleagues. Repeated warnings, and even the promulgation of a regulation forbidding the payment of the levy, had little effect. In January 1905, while Solf was on holiday in New Zealand, a Faipule and a pulenu’u were imprisoned, pending trial,

for their part in the campaign. When the government declined the Alvi Sili’s request for their release, a delegation from the madlé, including Tupua Tamasese, broke into the gaol and released them itself.

In the opinion of the Acting Governor, the malé had taken this drastic action because of its growing fear that the scheme would fail;

and it clearly revealed its uncertainty of purpose by apologizing and returning the prisoners. Within a few weeks all the important leaders had abandoned the project. But, though the immediate crisis

was over, the government was not prepared to regard the whole episode as closed. Fear of continued collaboration between Samoans and discontented Europeans and part-Samoans lay at the root of this unwillingness, which became still firmer when it was discovered that the Ali’i Sili and the Ta’imua and Faipule had written directly to the Emperor asking him for a number of reforms and expressing dissatis-

faction with Solf. To the Governor himself there seemed to be an

evel. more important reason for continuing to treat the matter seriously. It provided him with ‘a welcome opportunity’ for further

COLONIAL PATERNALISM I900-26 83 undermining the Samoan political structure and, in particular, for launching his long-planned attack on Ttimua and Pule.® After his return to Samoa in March he devoted himself to this task.

Mataafa himself was abused and threatened, to make him again subservient, but left in office.* The Ta’imua and Faipule, on the other hand, were dismissed and ordered to leave Mulinu’u. On 14 August—

five years to the day from his inauguration of the old system of Samoan administration—Solf held a large assembly at Mulinu’u. He had found, he said, that Tiimua and Pule had continued to claim: “We are Tumua and Pule, we are the rulers of Samoa’. For this reason there could be no place for them, he said, in the German administration. A new council (the Fono of Faipule) was being established to replace the

former Ta’imua and Faipule. Its members had been chosen by the Governor and would hold office at his pleasure. They would come to Mulinu’u only when summoned by the Governor. For the rest of the

year they would reside in their districts, where they would act as government representatives. And, unlike their predecessors, they would receive regular salaries.’

The new Faipule, twenty-seven in number, had been carefully chosen from those upon whom Solf considered he could rely for support. Though some held titles in the Ttimua and Pule centres, a greater number came from other villages. They included all the former ta ’ita’i iti, an arrangement which enabled Solf to dispense with

that office inconspicuously. The conditions of their appointment gave them a vested interest in retaining the Governor's goodwill; and the restriction placed upon their presence at Mulinu’u made it more

difficult for them to organize opposition to government policies. When the Governor attended their sessions, he listened to the remits they had prepared for him and gave his decision or referred a matter

back, with words of advice, for further consideration. In both its * In an abusive and threatening letter to Mata’afa, Solf also summed up accurately, if somewhat vituperatively, the difficult position in which the former was placed. ‘Everyone now knows your two faces! . . . Speaking to me and the Malo Kaisalika [German administration], you show the face of the Alvi Sili— appointed by H.M. the Kaiser, and loyal to him and his representative here; but

looking to the Samoans you show the face of the Tupu faa-Samoa [Samoan king], chosen and annointed by Tumua and Pule’ (Solf to Mata’afa, N.D. [1905]—DR,, I, 91). A somewhat similar charge could have been framed in respect of many other Samoans—for example, Tupua Tamasese—who held both government office and a high status in Samoan society. It was an almost inevitable consequence of the situation. Colonial rule, indeed, can scarcely avoid creating some such division of loyalties.

84 SAMOA MO SAMOA structure and its procedure, the Fono of Faipule reflected the paternalism to which Solf had always aspired.

The Samoan reaction to the changes was by no means wholly unfavourable. Though authority now rested so firmly in the hands of

the Governor, many groups found their position improved. The Faipule themselves supported the policy that had given them positions of importance; and other grades of Samoan officials, such as pulenu’u

and pulefa’atoaga (plantation inspectors), enjoyed the prominence derived from their growing responsibilities. More fundamentally, the balance of power and opinion in Samoan society had been changed by the impact of Western civilization. The dominant role of Tiimua and Pule was no longer accepted as readily as it had been in the past; and district authority was increasingly being challenged by subdistricts secking autonomy. The more broadly representative character of the Fono of Faipule, as compared with its predecessor, thus pleased those sections of the country that had possessed only a minor role in national politics. Similarly the distribution among the twenty-seven Faipule of the duties previously performed by many fewer ta’ita’i itu gave a number of sub-districts a sense of enhanced status by providing them with their own central government representatives. But, in a society as conservative as the Samoan, such changes in the political balance inevitably produced a reaction. Though the position

of the traditional leaders had been weakened by social change and governmental decision, it had not been destroyed. Though the great issues of Samoan politics had been temporarily by-passed, they had not been rendered obsolete. Early in 1908 Lauaki Mamoe visited the Ali’i

Sili at Mulinu’u. He found Mata’afa bitterly regretting his loss of power. ‘I have wept’, he said, “at the idea of Tolo and Laupu’e [two Samoan clerks], parading along the main road at Mulinw’u in their white coats, and neither advising nor consulting me about anything whatsoever. In the old days, when the Faipules met at Mulinu’u, it was I who had the power.’ “Mata’afa wept’, Lauaki said, ‘as he told me this.’® Lauaki, too, had much to regret as he compared the old days with the present. The government had, indeed, not dealt with him harshly. Though he had been its most powerful critic from the

beginning and the leading organizer of support for the proposed trading company in 1904-5, it had continued to consult him, and he

knew that the Governor was not unwilling to appoint him as a Faipule.® But such recognition was no adequate substitute for the authority he had formerly possessed as the most influential spokesman

COLONIAL PATERNALISM I900-26 85 for Timua and Pule. His talk with Mata‘afa stirred him to action. As a German naval officer wrote rather flamboyantly a year later, ‘a man like Lauati [Lauaki] who had for decades nearly unlimited influence upon the course of Samoan history, who installed and dethroned kings,

whose whole life was interwoven with political and demagogic activity, could by no means satisfy himself with the role of the dumb onlooker for any considerable length of time’.!®

Mata’afa and Lauaki agreed that the former Ta’imua should be invited to join them in a further meeting.“ This duly took place, and

a list of requests to the Governor was agreed on. The status and functions of the Ali’i Sili should be increased: his signature should appear, for example, on all government orders, in addition to that of the Governor. The former Ta‘imua, as tama diga, should again hold government office and receive salaries. The Faipule should reside continuously at Mulinu’u, and the traditional political role of Timua and Pule should be recognized. There were additional requests in regard to taxation matters; but, essentially, what was asked for was a restoration of the traditional political order. At this meeting—or perhaps somewhat later, after Mata’afa had been ill—a further request was made: that the next Alii Sili should be named before Mata’afa died. Solf was at this time in Germany and had recently married. It was decided that permission should be sought for a large assemblage of Samoans at Mulinu’u at the time of his return, ostensibly to wel-

come him and his wife but, in reality, to give backing to the presentation of these far-reaching proposals. Lauaki threw himself into the preparations for this great occasion with all his former verve. As an old man, he seems to have possessed an unshakable belief in his role as the defender of tradition. He had told

Mata’afa that it was he who had raised him to kingly rank and that Mata’afa, through weakness, had lost most of the power that had been won for him. He knew that other leaders had been cajoled or

flattered by the Germans into treachery, as he saw it, to the true Samoan cause. But he, at least, would remain steadfast to the end; and

he felt it was still in his power to rouse the mass of the matai to enthusiastic support of his plans. He toured the country, speaking in his old allusive way and promising the restoration of Samoa’s tarnished dignity. He planned the details of the mass descent upon Mulinu’u with the care that he had devoted, earlier in life, to the organization of military operations. But he was working in circumstances of far greater difficulty than ever before. The Samoan secretaries at Mulinu’y, D

86 SAMOA MO SAMOA such as Afamasaga Maua and Te’o Tuvale, and many of the Faipule and other Samoan officials, had less sympathy with him than with the Germans. They kept the government informed of all that he said and did, so that his suave assurances that he merely wished to honour the Governor and his wife were disbelieved. They visited many of the centres where he had spoken and, by reviving the old issues of Samoan

factionalism and by appealing for prudence, they sought to break up the alliance he had been forming. They spread the rumour that he wanted to depose Mata’afa and install Malietoa Tanumafili as king.

When word was received in November of Solf’s return, Lauaki set out with a canoe fleet from Savai’i for Mulinu’u, though he had

been ordered by the government not to do so. At Leulumoega, however, where the fleet called in accordance with previous arrangements, he found that A’ana district would not support him. He received another government order to return home. It was supported, this time, by a letter in somewhat similar terms from Mata’afa. The nation-wide movement that had been planned had thus collapsed before the requests agreed on at Mulinu’u had even been presented. The fleet returned home. Early in December a meeting of Savai’i was held at Safotulafai, at which the name by which the movement has subsequently been known, the Mau of Pule,* began to be used. Later in the month the Governor himself visited Safotulafai but failed to destroy the resolution of the Mau leaders. In January 1909 Lauaki was, therefore, summoned to meet the Governor of Mulinu’u. This gave him the opportunity for which he had been waiting. He set out

on his journey accompanied by a canoe-fleet of his supporters in Savai'i and their traditional allies in ’Aiga-i-le-Tai. In accordance with

custom, they visited Tuamasaga district, which, like Savai’i and ’Aiga-i-le-Tai, was closely linked with Sa Malietoa and was mainly supporting Lauaki on this occasion. At Vaiusu, a village of Tuamasaga across the bay from Mulinu’u, the whole visiting party and its Tuama-

saga allies made their headquarters. Faced with this show of force, Solf forgave Lauaki his past misdeeds and attempted to reach an agreement with him as to the future. But, as the two had been dedicated * The word mau means ‘testimony’. Used in the name of a Samoan political movement it indicates that the movement, like a political party, represents a particular body of opinion. In practice, such movements have always represented opinion critical of the existing government. Pule is, of course, a reference

to Savai’i, in terms of its political structure. The name Mau of Pule (Mau a Pule, in Samoan) thus meant, in political terms, ‘opposition movement of Savai’i’.

COLONIAL PATERNALISM [900-26 87 for many years to the attainment of irreconcilable political objectives,

nothing was achieved. Solf, therefore, obtained a request from the Fono of Faipule for Lauaki’s deportation and asked that warships should be sent to Samoa to enable him to give effect to it. In addition, he played upon the traditional rivalries that were never far beneath the

surface of Samoan politics by ridiculing Tiimua for having contemplated accepting the leadership of a representative of Pule. Lauaki and his supporters, meanwhile, continued their political agitation in an atmosphere of growing tension and of anxiety for the future. With the arrival of the warships in March, this tension reached its height. The government had feared the outbreak of civil war for some time; and, at this stage, the Savai'i leaders prepared to resist arrest by force. With the assistance of the missionaries, however, a peaceful surrender was arranged; and Lauaki and nine others, accompanied by a large party of relatives and a pastor, were taken to Saipan, in the Marianas. With

this action, and other punitive measures against the people of the disaffected areas, the Mau of Pule was brought to an end. For Lauaki, too, this was the end of his long political career: he died in 1915 on

his journey back to Samoa. In one respect it was also the end of a political era, since an element in Lauaki’s failure had been the reluctance

of much of the country to accept the leadership of the orator groups of the old political centres. But this reflected a change in the balance of political forces, not an abandonment of earlier political objectives. The position of Alii Sili, in particular, was still greatly valued by the Samoans, as a sign of the dignity and formal unity of their society. Mata’afa himself was insistent that it must be retained after his death. Significantly, he believed, like Samoan leaders before him and since whose primary concern has been with the maintenance of political

harmony, in the principle of alternation. In 1911 he informed the Acting Governor that he wished the position to be held, in turn, by members of S4 Tupua (to which he belonged), S4 Malictoa and Sa Tuimaleali'ifand.* At an earlier stage, he was believed to have favoured Fa’alata, of SA Malietoa, as his successor; but Fa’alata had died in 1910,

leaving the still youthful Malietoa Tanumafili as the unquestioned head of the family. He, therefore, formally nominated Tuimaleali’ifano Si’u, who was of suitable age, for the position.

Solf had been determined from the beginning, of course, that Mata’afa should have no successor, as men like Lauaki had guessed. And, a year before Mata’afa had made his nomination, the German * $4 Tuimaleali’ifano is usually regarded as a branch of S4 Tupua.

88 SAMOA MO SAMOA government had agreed to alternative arrangements. An imperial order had been drafted, for use after Mata’afa’s death, in which the Emperor made the declaration: “I authorize My Deputy in Samoa, the Governor, to select one member of the Tupua and one member of the Malietoa family to be his trusted friends and advisers’.!2 In February 1912 Mata’afa Iosefa died; and in June of the following year Tupua Tamasese Lealofi and Malietoa Tanumafili were sworn in as Fautua (advisers).

In 1910 Solf had finally left Samoa; and in 1911 he took office as

Secretary for the Colonies in the German government. Dr Erich Schultz, who, as Chief Justice, had acted for him on previous occasions,

continued as Acting Governor till 1912, when he was formally appointed Governor. In reporting the assumption of office by the Fautua to Berlin, he wrote: ... 1 must not forget to mention that there is still a good bit of work to be done in the future. . .. Above all, one has to see how the two ‘Fautua’ develop. In this connection more danger has to be anticipated from the

energetic Tamasese than the younger but indolent Tanu. I am fairly confident that I have enough personal influence to keep them both within their limits. On the other hand, the life force of the Samoan people

has to be taken into account.

Even better than Solf, Schultz understood that the history of any political or administrative arrangements would be determined, in part, by the will of the Samoans themselves.*

At this time, indeed, a development was occurring at the village level that emphasized this fact. Samoans in many parts of the country were adopting a type of administrative procedure that both complemented and encroached upon the functions of the officially appointed pulenu’u. Committees of matai, known as pulemau, had been appointed

by the village fono to work with the pulenu’u. In many cases, they extended their functions into fields in which the latter lacked jurisdiction, making regulations, imposing fines for failure in plantation work, and even punishing those guilty of offences such as adultery.

To Richard Williams, reporting on the situation in Savai’i, this seemed a development that tended to undermine the authority of the government, and he recommended that it should be stopped. But, as * Schultz had been chairman of the Land and Titles Commission from its foundation. He had also made a systematic study of Samoan customary law, which he published under the title Samoanisches Familien-, Immobiliar- und Erbrecht (3rd ed., Apia, 1911).

COLONIAL PATERNALISM I900-26 89 so often, the will of the Samoans proved more effective than the hopes of an official, even when he was as capable and well-liked as Williams. The committee system survived to become an increasingly important part of modern village administration. In the economic field, where government policy had placed greater emphasis on the expansion of European than of Samoan production, these years had been ones of significant advance. In 1900-2 the average annual export of copra had been just under 6,000 tons; in 1910-12 it

had increased to just over 10,000 tons.'4 Since the world price for copra had risen during the period, the average annual value had increased far more sharply—from £63,500 for 1900-2 to £173,400 for 1910-12. At the beginning of the period, cocoa planting had only recently begun; and in 1900-2 cocoa exports had averaged under six tons, valued at £350. But by 1910-12 cocoa had become Samoa’s second most important export crop. An average of over 600 tons, valued at more than £35,000, was exported; and production was still rapidly rising. Other products, particularly rubber, seemed certain to make a substantial contribution to exports within the immediately following years. And there had been a similar change in the state of the public finances. Both revenue and expenditure had greatly increased; and, from an initial dependence on German grants, the territory had become self-supporting.

To what extent, then, had the German administration succeeded in setting Samoa upon a new course? And how far, on the contrary, were the factors that had determined the character of change during the nineteenth century still operating? Economic development had been substantially assisted both by the existence of stable government

and by the particular policies that had been adopted. But it had continued to be limited by the survival of traditional agricultural practices among the Samoans and by the possession of large areas of unused land by the D.H.P.G. Politically, the situation was far more

complex. By 1913, when the Fautua took office, the two major elements in Solf’s policy towards the Samoan leaders had been imple-

mented. The ‘kingship’ had been reduced to a dignified sinecure shared by two men; and the power of Tiimua and Pule had been effectively undermined. But even Schultz does not seem to have been certain that a tama’ diga of Tupua Tamasese Lealofi’s ability would be

rendered ineffectual by his acceptance of a sinecure; and, though Tiimua and Pule might never again be able to dominate the Samoan political process, chey still possessed an experience and a technique of

90 SAMOA MO SAMOA political organization that could be placed at the service of any movement of revolt. Moreover, the emergence of the pulemau system in the villages showed that Samoan society was still capable of evolving in response to the people’s own perception of changing needs. Finally, the part-Samoans and many of the Europeans still possessed a sense of grievance.

In 1910 representatives of the commercial community had forwarded a petition to the president of the German parliament.1® They had protested against the high level of taxation, the privileges accorded to the D.H.P.G., the employment of an excessive number of highly

paid German officials, and the unrepresentative character and inadequate powers of the Government Council. They asked for an elected council, with full financial powers and an advisory voice in ‘native affairs’, for increased recruitmient of local people to the govern-

ment service, and for more schools and an expanded programme of public works. They referred nostalgically to the now golden days of Samoa’s past independence. “Therefore’, they concluded, ‘it has been demonstrated that self-government in this place is not only possible, but has been advantageous.’ One of the six signatories was a part-~ Samoan—the young O. F. Nelson. Would Schultz and his staff, with Solf to advise and support them

from Berlin, have been able indefinitely to contain these forces of tradition, of ambition, of discontent? Would the perils of an alliance between the Samioans and the commercial community, with the part-

Samoans as intermediaries—an alliance of which the government had had a limited experience in 1904-5 and which it had never ceased to fear—have been averted? These are questions to which there is no answer, since the outbreak of war between Britain and Germany in August 1914 led, within a few weeks, to the occupation of German Samoa by New Zealand troops.

ON the morning of 29 August New Zealand transports, accompanied by a naval escort, reached Apia; and two officers carrying ‘a scrap of table linen annexed to a broomstick’ (as an improvized white flag) came ashore with a letter to the Governor demanding the surrender of the territory.1® Just over three weeks earlier the British government had proposed that New Zealand forces should seize the German radio station in Samoa. A request to London for details of German

COLONIAL PATERNALISM I900-26 OI military forces and installations had produced the reply: ‘For information regarding the defences of Samoa see Whitaker's Almanac’ [scil. Almanack].17 When the transports had sailed, their naval escort had failed to contact them till they reached Noumea, in New Caledonia. But, fortunately for the expeditionary force, the German navy had not intercepted it, nor did the Governor order that the landing of the troops should be opposed. Thus, later on the 29th the officer commanding the military force, Lieutenant-Colonel Robert Logan, and his staff occupied the central office of the German administration ; on the following day the British flag was raised; and on 1 September Logan informed an assembly of Samoans at Mulinu’u that the govern-

ment would be carried on by him on the lines established by the Germans.'®

For New Zealand these events had significance in a context far broader than that created by the outbreak of war. Between 1870 and 1900 New Zealand leaders—in government, in commerce and in journalism—had seen Samoa as an important field for the exercise of New Zealand initiative. The development of plantation agriculture,

and the commercial prosperity of Apia, had provided a basis for optimistic forecasts of Samoa’s economic future; the establishment of trans-Pacific steamship services had emphasized its potential importance

as a centre of communications; and the participation of Americans and, more particularly, of Germans in its economic and political life had been regarded both as a challenge and a threat. New Zealand governments had repeatedly requested Britain to annex Samoa or to establish a protectorate over it. New Zealand itself, it had been contended, was well qualified to administer the islands on behalf of the

Crown, since its politicians and administrators were already experienced in governing the Maori. During the 1880s New Zealand leaders had used each successive crisis in Samoa, and each new indication of German political ambitions there, as an occasion for renewing

their attempts to secure British intervention. They had regarded the 1889 agreement as one that was unlikely to prove permanent; and, after the outbreak of war between the government of Malietoa Laupepa and Mata’afa Iosefa and his supporters in 1893, they had again appealed for the establishment of a British protectorate. When

news was received in 1899 of the agreement to partition Samoa between Germany and the United States, the Chief Justice, Sir Robert

Stout, was administering the government in the absence of the Governor. As an active politician in earlier years, Stout had been a

Q2 SAMOA MO SAMOA strong advocate of British intervention. In his new capacity he had told the Colonial Office that, to the New Zealanders, “Samoa is their Alsace’.1® By 1914 interest in Samoa liad greatly declined. With the death in 1906 of Richard John Seddon, who had been Premier since 1893, the country had lost its most powerful exponent of a programme of expansion in the islands; and, with the accession to office in 1912 of the Reform Party, led by William Ferguson Massey, it had gained

a government that found sufficient romance in the expansion of agricultural exports to Britain. Moreover, New Zealand’s position in

Samoa after the occupation was a somewhat equivocal one: the military administration was conducted on behalf of Britain; and the future control of the territory would not be determined till the end of the war. But the earlier, frustrated aspirations were not forgotten and had not been entirely abandoned, so that, in a limited sense, New Zealand control of Western Samoa* represented the attainment of an old ambition. The military administration lasted till May 1920.2 Logan became Administrator of the territory, as well as commanding officer of the

New Zealand forces, and retained this position till 1919. Richard Williams was continued in office, with the title of Deputy Administrator of Savaii; but officials of German nationality were replaced by New Zealand military officers or civilians or by British residents. Except for these changes in personnel, the period was essentially one of

marking time. Existing law remained in force, except in so far as it was repealed or amended by the Administrator. Existing policies and

administrative procedures were maintained, except where the exigencies of war dictated their abandonment. In principle, this was a consequence of international conventions relating to military occupation. But, in practice, neither the New Zealand government nor the local administration had the time or the talent available for the making of major changes. The removal of the German officials made the task

of merely picking up the threads of administrative routine a not inconsiderable one. Moreover, many of the new officers were lacking in experience and, in some cases, in the normal professional qualifica-

tions. A local resident without legal training was appointed Judge of the District Court (the highest court in the territory); and Logan’s aide-de-camp later became Secretary of Native Affairs. In 1919 a * The name Western Samoa did not come into official use till after the end of the war; but, for the sake of simplicity, I have used it in referring to the territory after the de facto termination of German control.

COLONIAL PATERNALISM 1900-26 93 commission from New Zealand noted continuing confusion in the administration of the law. The police had been obtaining convictions in court for breaches of port regulations made in the 1890s, in ignorance of the fact that they had subsequently been superseded. The Medical Department, on the other hand, had made no inquiries as to whether any port regulations existed but had simply assumed that New Zealand regulations should be applied.?! On the whole, this ramshackle administration was accepted with equanimity. The Samoans found that it made few new demands on

them; and Europeans recognized that their situation was far more fortunate than that of many of their kinsmen overseas. The autocratic

character of Logan’s rule—unavoidable in the circumstances of military occupation—was made less unpalatable by the substantial prosperity that the country enjoyed. During the years 1915-18 exports of copra averaged just under 9,500 tons, valued at £202,000, and those of cocoa 950 tons, valued at £,62,000.”? To a considerable extent the increase in overseas earnings was offset by a sharp rise in the cost of imports; but most Samoans attributed the high prices in the stores to the rapacity of the merchants, rather than to wartime conditions or the will of the government. There were, of course, subjects of grievance. The most important of these were economic and of most direct concern to the European

community. The expropriation and liquidation of German-owned business firms inconvenienced many people besides the former owners. The inability of the Administrator to obtain replacements for

Chinese labourers repatriated at the end of their term of indenture created acute difficulties for most planters. And these factors, coupled

with the imposition of export duties and of more stringent labour laws, led to a number of bankruptcies in the later years of the war. But even in these economic difficulties some residents—particularly among the part-Samoans—found new opportunities. Merchants who were nationals of Allied or neutral countries gained the business that the Germans had lost. Most notably, the firm of A. Nelson and Son—

controlled by O. F. Nelson—laid the basis of a commercial preeminence that it and its successor, O. F. Nelson and Company Ltd, have maintained to the present day.

It was not till the war was almost over that the military administration encountered real disaster. On 7 November 1918—four days before the Armistice—the ship Talune arrived at Apia from Auckland carrying passengers suffering from pneumonic influenza. Quarantine

94 SAMOA MO SAMOA restrictions were not imposed; and the disease spread with great rapidity throughout the territory. For a time normal life was brought almost to a standstill. The local newspaper ceased publication for a fortnight.” (Its editor was among those who died.) When it resumed publication, it provided its readers with their first detailed knowledge of the disaster. ‘If the loss as set forth below may be relied on’, it commented on 14 December, ‘then one fifth of the total population of the island [Upolu] has perished.’ A week later it stated that Richard Williams’s estimate of the situation in Savai'i was similar. The obituary notices inserted by leading residents revealed the scale of the tragedy as it had affected individual families. A notice by Toleafoa Lagolago,

a grandson of Va’aelua Petaia, included the names of his mother (Petaia’s daughter), his brother Afamasaga Maua (the secretary at Mulinu’u), two of his sisters, Afamasaga’s wife, and a nephew. One by O. F. Nelson contained the names of his mother, his only brother and his wife, and one of his two sisters. S. H. Meredith, a leading merchant of English-Samoan origin, recorded the names of seven close relatives. Of the members of the Fono of Faipule twenty-four died, and only seven survived.** Official figures—produced several months later—showed that 7,542 persons ‘died of influenza, or as a consequence of the prevalence of influenza’, during November and December. This represented just under twenty per cent. of the estimated

population of 38,302 at 30 September. During the early months of 1919 the death-rate remained abnormally high, so that it was estimated

that the total number of deaths ‘attributable to influenza’ reached 8,500, or twenty-two per cent. of the population.*

Faced with a national disaster of this magnitude, the people of * These figures are taken from: ‘Samoan Epidemic Commission (Report of)’—AJHR, 1919, H3Ic, 3-4. In New Zealand, with a population of about 1,200,000 in 1918, deaths from influenza during the epidemic totalled 5,471, or less than 0.5 per cent. of the population. During the 1914-18 war New Zealand casualties, in dead and missing, totalled between 16,000 and 17,000, or less than 1.5 per cent. of the 1918 population. These casualties have always been regarded in New Zealand as very heavy. New

Zealand losses, directly or indirectly related to the war, were thus under two per cent. spread over a period of more than four years. In Western Samoa a loss

ten times heavier, in proportion to population, was suffered in a period of a

few weeks. In the words of a later study, the Samoan epidemic ‘ranks as one of the most disastrous epidemics recorded anywhere in the world during the present century, so far as the proportion of deaths to the population is concerned’ (United Nations Department of Social Affairs, Population Division, The Population of Western

Samoa (Reports on the Populations of Trust Territories, no. 1, Lake Success, 1948), 8).

COLONIAL PATERNALISM 1900-26 95 Western Samoa inevitably looked for the human errors that had brought it upon them. They found them in the acts and omissions, and in the attitudes, of officers of the military administration. The New

Zealand government, for its part, felt bound both to examine the causes of the disaster and to take account of the Samoan reaction. It appointed a commission of inquiry, which visited Samoa in the middle of 1919. By its fair-mindedness and its thoroughness, the commission

did much to restore New Zealand’s reputation. But it was, on the whole, an appalling story that it brought to light.?5 When the Talune had left Auckland, pneumonic influenza had not

yet been declared a notifiable disease, though its seriousness was generally realized. Before she reached Apia, however, the disease had been made notifiable but Samoa had not been informed. At both Suva and Levuka, where she had called, the ship had been quarantined; and, though the captain had failed to inform the port medical officer at Apia

of this fact, the latter had learnt of the action at Suva from the chief steward, but had ignored it. During the worst period of the epidemic, the Governor of American Samoa—which had avoided the disease by the prompt imposition of quarantine restrictions—had sent a telegram to the American consul in Apia containing the sentence: ‘Please inform me if we can be of any service or assistance’. The telegram had been shown to Logan; but he had taken no action and had said later that he had thought the offer of assistance was to the consul’s sick wife and

not to the country. In the opinion of the commission, even this misunderstanding could provide no adequate excuse. In American Samoa a staff of medical officers and assistants was standing by, while in Western Samoa people were dying in thousands for want of medical

attention. Logan might have been expected, it thought, to take the initiative in asking for help. Instead, his only action in regard to that territory had been to order a temporary cessation of radio communica-

tion with it, apparently in exasperation at the quarantining of mail from Western Samoa. The administration of the local health services had been characterized by similar folly and confusion. Many officers, including Logan himself, had shown personal courage and great energy in going from house to

house with supplies of medicine and food and in assisting in the burial of the dead. But there had been many grave errors of judgement.

A temporary hospital established by a group of women in Apia had been closed by the authorities. At Tuasivi, in Savai’i, the resident medical officer had stayed in his house throughout the epidemic,

96 SAMOA MO SAMOA dispensing inedicine to callers, but not visiting even those patients who lived almost at his gate. When asked for an explanation of his conduct, he said that he had received no instruction to visit the sick in their homes. The commission, in its report, drew attention to the circumstances of the time, to the not uncommon decay of judgement

under exceptional pressure. But, in truth, the poor quality of the administration had been exposed in a way that none who had witnessed the exposure would forget.

Logan’s administration was brought to an end by the epidemic. He went to New Zealand on leave and did not return. Colonel Robert Ward Tate, a solicitor in private life, was appointed Acting Admin-

istrator and, in due course, received a substantive appointment as Logan’s successor. Before he left, Logan had met a small group of leading Samoans at Mulinu’u to discuss the causes of the epidemic. He had allowed himself to be angered by their questions and had walked out of the meeting. The Samoans had been so upset by his

attitude that they had prepared a petition for the transfer of the territory to American control. They had presented this to Tate but had immediately withdrawn it, since they were impressed by the Acting Administrator's sympathy and sincerity. From New Zealand Logan had submitted a written statement to the commission, in which

he commented on these events. He alleged that the petition had originated, not from the Samoans, but from H. J. Moors, a leading merchant of American nationality, who—in Logan’s words—‘has always been antagonistic to the Administration, and who has on more than one occasion stated that he would do all in his power to upset my administration’. As to the Samoans concerned, he described Toelupe, the senior surviving Faipule, as ‘simply a tool of H. J. Moors’ and Toleafoa Lagolago (or Afamasaga Toleafoa Lagolago, as he had become since the death of his brother) as a man who was said to have

been offered a financial reward if the petition should be successful. Toelupe, Afamasaga, and their colleagues he described collectively as ‘some minor Samoan chiefs’.?¢

These allegations were patently the production of a deeply embittered man; and they were angrily denied. Further, they seemed consistent neither with the facts nor with Logan’s own past opinions.

In 1915 Logan had been associated with a formal presentation to Moors for his conspicuous services to the military administration ;?7 and during the epidemic Moors’s services had again been publicly noted. Afamasaga Lagolago was one of the few Samoans who mixed

COLONIAL PATERNALISM I900-26 97 socially with expatriate officials. And Toelupe had a career of public service going back to the days of Malictoa Talavou. These men had been Logan’s close associates. But, when things went against him, he was prepared to castigate them as enemies, dupes and rogues. This

switch from somewhat effusive friendliness to personal abuse and denigration was to occur again in the attitudes of later New Zealand Administrators to local leaders. On this occasion, as on subsequent ones,

it helped to build up lasting doubts of official sincerity and goodwill.

Other social and political consequences of the epidemic and its aftermath cannot be pin-pointed so precisely. The mortality among the Faipule seems to have reflected an unusually high death-rate among the older matai generally. Of those who had been deported to Saipan

with Lauaki in 1909 and who had returned to Samoa during the war,

for example, only one—the still young Viga Pisa—survived the epidemic. This sudden loss of many of the older men appears to have precipitated a decline in traditional political activity, in the style that Lauaki’s own career had exemplified. Conversely, the political role of

part-Samoans and of Samoans with knowledge of the ways of the modern world, such as Afamasaga Lagolago, seems to have been widened. When Samoan dissatisfaction with New Zealand administration reached a climax in 1927, men of this latter type took a leading

part in framing political objectives and building up an organization

for their attainment. It is probably more than a coincidence that Nelson, Afamasaga and Meredith—all of whom had suffered such grievous personal losses in the epidemic—were amongst the most prominent of these. The epidemic, while weakening the forces of an older traditionalism, had provided the people with a new reason for resentment of the administering authority; and such resentment is one of the classic bases of colonial nationalism.*

DURING the course of the year 1919 the people of Western Samoa

learnt of the political future that was being planned for them. * When I first went to Samoa in 1947, the epidemic was still cited by older people as a wrong done to the country by New Zealand. Its impact upon the individual Samoan has recently been made the theme of a short story by a Samoan-born writer (Albert Wendt, ‘A Descendant of the Mountain’, Landfall, XVII (1963), 113-18.

+ The Samoan leaders must have had some knowledge considerably earlier. On Io Jan. 1918 the Governor-General of New Zealand had sent telegrams

98 SAMOA MO SAMOA In March—two months after the opening of the Peace Conference in Paris—the Samoa Times noted an unofficial, though correct, report

that the country was to be administered by New Zealand under mandate; and three months later the paper gave details of the intended arrangement.?® In October, by which time it had become clear that there would be a substantial delay in the issuing of the mandate, the New Zealand Government introduced legislation into Parliament to enable it to make temporary provision for a civil administration. The

debate on this legislation revealed a good deal about New Zealand official intentions and the opinion of the political parties.?® Spokesmen for the government—the Prime Minister, the Right Honourable W. F. Massey, and the Minister of Defence, the Honourable Sir James Allen—took the traditional view that control of the territory was important to New Zealand defence and emphasized that such control should impose no drain on New Zealand funds, as Samoa was already financially self-supporting. They announced the government’s intention of continuing to import indentured labourers, since it regarded European-controlled plantation agriculture as the basis of the economy. Administratively, Sir James Allen said, the civil service would be “part and parcel of the New Zealand Civil Service’. New Zealand officers might be appointed to Samoa for three-year terms, ‘for I think it would be wise to limit their stay there to that term’. Politically, as well as economically, the position of the

Samoans was to be a rather peripheral one. ‘First of all, we recognize ...’, Allen said, ‘the independence in a certain sense of the Native population of Samoa... . They have their own customs and laws.’ The government had failed to understand even the position in Fiji, where customary institutions had been absorbed into the formal administrative structure in the first years of British rule, where the need for expatriate staff with long experience was well recognized, and where the importation of indentured labour had been ended two years earlier. But, despite these deficiencies in the ministerial statements, to the Secretary of State for the Colonies and to the Administrator of Western Samoa. In the former he included the statement: “The Government of New Zealand are convinced that the retention of the German Colonies is essential. . .’. In the latter he said: ‘. . . I should be glad if you would send me by mail as soon as possible any evidence that you can give supporting the contention that the natives of Samoa appreciate and desire to remain under British Rule. ..’. Ina further telegram to the Secretary of State, on 11 Feb. 1918, he summarized the Administrator’s reply: “The High Chiefs and Chiefs are practically unanimous in wishing to remain under British Rule...’. These telegrams, all classified as ‘secret’, are on MO 18/15.

COLONIAL PATERNALISM 1900-26 99 speakers for the opposition Liberal Party expressed general agreement

with them. The major part of the New Zealand Parliament thus entered upon its responsibilities towards Samoa in a frame of mind that was naive, ill-informed and out-dated. Only among Labour Party members was there a radically different attitude. The recently elected chairman of the small Labour group, H. E. Holland, had, indeed, published a pamphlet on Samoa some time earlier, in which he had advocated internal self-government under international supervision; and this proposal had subsequently been formally adopted by the party.* During the debate in Parliament both Holland and his colleague, Peter Fraser,f spoke forcefully in favour of the Labour policy. The war was claimed to have been fought for democracy, Fraser said, but the government was ‘establishing not a

democracy but a form of autocracy’; and Holland declared that the Samoans were ‘capable of self-government—they have proved it in days gone by’. In addition, both speakers vigorously attacked the government's intention to continue the use of indentured labour. Though the Labour Party’s stand on self-government was a doctrinaire, rather than a realistic one in the circumstances of 1919, it was to prove of considerable future significance. The reaction to these developments in Samoa seems to have been, on the whole, an unfavourable one. When Nelson had returned from a

visit to New Zealand, he had said that probably the opinion most commonly held there was that the country had accepted a task that was beyond its capacity ;5° and this opinion was shared by many in Samoa. The handling of the epidemic was considered to have underlined a chronic administrative incapacity and political insensitivity. As more was learnt of New Zealand intentions, these doubts hardened into antagonism. A proclamation banning the importation of liquor, as a prelude to the imposition of complete prohibition, roused the anger of the European community. And, when details were received of New Zealand’s constitutional proposals in November, they displeased both Samoans and Europeans.

The legislation passed by Parliament consisted of two bills. One * During his career Holland published three pamphlets relevant to Samoa: Samoa. A Story that Teems with Tragedy (Wellington, 1918); Indentured Labour Is it Slavery? (Greymouth, 1919); and The Revolt of the Samoans (Wellington, 1928). On his career generally, see P. J. O’Farrell, Harry Holland: militant socialist (Canberra, 1964). + More than twenty years later, as Prime Minister, Fraser played a decisive part in the Samoan move towards self-government.

100 SAMOA MO SAMOA provided for the establishment of a Department of External Affairs, of which a principal function would be the control of the new dependency. The other empowered the government to establish a civil administration in Samoa by order in council. Under the authority of the latter a Samoa Constitution Order was made and came into force on 1 May 1920.*! This provided the basic law of the new régime. In addition to its constitutional provisions, it included a substantial code of private law, applied a number of New Zealand statutes to Samoa, and provided the territory with the same residuum of legal rules and doctrine—through reference to the law of England—as was in force in New Zealand. The political structure imposed by the Constitution

Order was based, in outline, on that existing in the less advanced British crown colonies: executive power was vested in an Administrator and legislative power in the Administrator and a Legislative Council consisting of a majority of official members and a minority

of nominated unofficial members. The legislative competence of the council was, however, severely restricted, principally through the reservation to New Zealand of the right to legislate on a wide range of subjects (including those provided for in the Constitution Order). In practice, it was decided that the unofficial members should be three in

number and should be representative only of the European community. The Fono of Faipule was to remain in being; but it was not given legal recognition. The government sought, in this way, to maintain a division between the field of operation of the legally constituted legislative body and that in which it believed that custom

should prevail. In relation to the Samoan people, its policy was explicitly paternalist.

Early in 1920—after the contents of the Constitution Order had been made known but before it had come into force—a group of Members of Parliament, led by Sir James Allen and representative of all parties, visited Samoa.*? Both the Fono of Faipule and a ‘Citizens’ Committee’ representing the European community presented long lists of requests. The Faipule asked for statutory recognition of the Fono and the conferring on it, in conjunction with the Administrator

and the Fautua, of legislative powers and control of finance. In addition, they wanted respresentation in the New Zealand Parliament. Among their other requests were several relating to the expansion of

educational facilities and the training of Samoans for more senior government positions. The political demands of the Europeans were for elective representation in the Legislative Council, a municipality at

COLONIAL PATERNALISM I900-26 IOI Apia, and the ending of press censorship. They also asked for the abandonment of the proposal for complete prohibition and for an assurance that the recruitment of indentured labourers would be resumed. The two groups of requests thus had little in common. Indeed, Nelson, as chairman of the Citizens’ Committee, explicitly

accepted an important part of the New Zealand government’s argument for the separate handling of Samoan and European affairs.*

Both communities were, however, substantially dissatisfied; and neither of them received from Sir James Allen—or later from the New Zealand governnient—any significant concessions. In a situation in which the two communities were as closely linked by kinship as they were in Samoa, this was, in itself, a likely cause of future trouble. The mandate was finally confirmed by the Council of the League

of Nations in December 1920, after its formal allocation to New Zealand by the Principal Allied and Associated Powers.®? As a con-

sequence, permanent provision was made for the government of Western Samoa in the Samoa Act, 1921, which re-enacted, with minor amendment, the contents of the Constitution Order. This Act, which came into force on 1 April 1922, remained the basic law of the territory till it became independent forty years later. During the whole of that period, therefore, major legal changes—including constitutional changes—were made by way of amendment to it.

The first three years under civil administration, during which Colonel Tate continued as Administrator, saw few notable developments. In 1921 the Fono of Faipule petitioned King George V for self-government, under a Governor appointed directly by the Crown; but the petition was ignored, and the Samoans did not, for some years,

repeat their request. Demands for reform within the framework of New Zealand control continued to be made; but little action was taken in regard to them. In part, this inactivity was a consequence of Tate’s own personality. He was a modest, retiring man, good in personal relations, but diffident in taking decisions. It was his practice * Holland suggested to Nelson the possibility of creating a legislature wholly elective in membership, with elections conducted under proportional representation, so as to include both Samoans and Europeans. Nelson replied: “The Natives have a form of Legislative Council in their House of Faipules, where they deal solely with Native affairs’ (AJHR, 1920, As, 64). He believed, however, that the Faipule should be elected by district fono, not nominated by the Administrator for an indefinite term, as they then were (Nelson to M. Pomare, 13 Aug. 1919— IT 1, 79/2/1).

102 SAMOA MO SAMOA to refer important matters to Wellington, where there was no one in the new Department of External Affairs with even his own understanding of the Samoan situation.** In part, also, it was a result of

circumstances beyond his control. Till the Samoa Act came into force he felt that his position was weakened by the provisional character

of the legislation upon which it was based. Moreover, his task of regaining for the administration the confidence that had been shattered by the epidemic was one that required gentle handling. And, further, an inexperienced staff had to repair the ravages of the war years and the epidemic and to formulate plans for the development of educational and medical services and for the construction of new roads and water supplies and other public works. And in all these directions positive, though unspectacular, progress was made.

Economically, these years were ones of great instability. In 1919 and 1920 world prices for both copra and cocoa were exceptionally high. In the former year over £530,000 had been received from the export of the two products—a figure more than seventy-five per cent. higher than the average for the relatively prosperous war years. In 1920, though there was a fall in receipts of over twenty-five per cent., the country remained unusually prosperous. The year 1921, however, was one of acute depression. With a fall in prices, the sale of copra and cocoa produced an income of only £227,000. Since the level of im-

ports remained high, as a result of the prosperous conditions of the preceding years, the situation caused considerable alarm. Though export income, in fact, recovered substantially in 1922 (to £366,000, of which £364,000 represented the sale of copra and cocoa), the year was one of retrenchment and of disenchanted examination of the country’s economic prospects. In these circumstances, the Administrator had an added reason for avoiding radical action.

In March 1923 Tate left Samoa to assume the probably more congenial duties of a stipendiary magistrate in a New Zealand country

town. He was succeeded as Administrator by Brigadier-General George Spafford Richardson. The selection of Richardson—who was

promoted Major-General shortly after his arrival and knighted in 1925—was an indication of the New Zealand government’s desire for a more dynamic administration in Samoa. Born in England in 1868, Richardson had enlisted as a private in the British Army and in 1891 had been lent to New Zealand as a gunnery instructor. In 1907 he had received a commission in the New Zealand forces. Since 1919 he had served as General Officer in charge of Administration at army

COLONIAL PATERNALISM I9Q00-26 103 headquarters in Wellington. As his military record had shown, he was a man of drive and energy, ambitious, undeterred by the responsibilities

of command. He accepted the post of Administrator determined to make as great a success of his new career as he had of his old. Richardson was received in Samoa with enthusiasm. Members of the European community—particularly part-Samoans—found him less remote and unbending than his predecessors. Leading Samoans—

particularly the Faipule—found that he treated them with a new respect. There was general satisfaction with his desire to reduce administrative extravagance and inefficiency, to understand local opinion, and to learn the Samoan language, and with his ambitious planning for the future. When the Fiji Times declared that ‘the advent of General Richardson, as Administrator, marks the turning point

in the progress of the mandated territory’, it was doing no more than report an opinion that was very widely held.**

Richardson’s position was further strengthened by the attitude of the New Zealand government. Before his appointment, it had decided to accept the local demand for legal recognition of the Fono of Faipule and for elective representation on the Legislative Council; and it implemented these changes in the Samoa Amendment Act, 1923. Moreover, between 1923 and 1926, the portfolio of External Affairs was held by Sir Francis Bell, a man of unusual eminence and influence, who had complete confidence in the Administrator. “Every letter of yours brings home to me’, he wrote to Richardson in 1924,

‘the good fortune of New Zealand in having as Administrator of Samoa not only a man able to rule but a man willing to give such minute attention to detail and consideration of the eccentricities of both Natives and Europeans in the Islands.’ As a consequence, he allowed Richardson great freedom to develop his own policies. ‘The less the Minister interferes, and the more the Administrator rules,’ he wrote, ‘the better for Samoa and the performance of our Mandate. '°6

Richardson began to explain his intentions very soon after his arrival; but he did so most comprehensively after a visit to New

Zealand for consultation with the government towards the end of , 1923.37 New Zealand had described its principal objective in Samoa,

when it had accepted the mandate, as being that of promoting ‘the welfare of the Native Race’. And this objective Richardson accepted enthusiastically. He defined the principal “Native Problems’ (to use his own terminology) in these words:

104 SAMOA MO SAMOA 1. Health—How to make the Samoan Race a healthy, strong and increasing one. 2. Education—How to ensure that the education of the Natives harmonizes

with their surroundings and future requirements so as to maintain their happiness and contentment. 3. Economic—How to get the Natives to make fuller use of their lands, and to increase production.

New Zealand was already providing a subsidy towards the cost of developing medical and educational work among the Samoans; and broad lines of policy had already been worked out. In the medical field, Richardson aimed to expand facilities more rapidly, by imposing a medical tax to meet the additional expenditure, and, in particular, to increase public health work. In education, he intended to concentrate

on co-operation with the missions. The problem of raising Samoan agricultural production, however, involved the development of quite new lines of policy. Since German times the incentive provided by the desire for a cash income had been reinforced very little by official action. In a society in which the pursuit of wealth was often impeded by concern with traditional social objectives, such inaction made for a relatively slow rise in national income. On the other hand, the extent of the interaction between social and economic objectives made the

formulation of an acceptable policy for economic development particularly difficult; and Richardson recognized that this was a task

that would take time and a great deal of discussion with Samoan representatives.

Although the Administration was primarily concerned with the Samoans, it did not ignore the problems of the European community or those of the European-controlled sector of the economy. On one issue Richardson was given no latitude by New Zealand: he personally disliked the complete formal prohibition on the importation and sale

of liquor, but he was not permitted to relax it.* On another issue, however, he was able to take action that won the fervent applause of the Europeans. The Administration had been operating, on behalf of the New Zealand government, a variety of businesses and plantations that had been taken over, as reparations, from their former German * Samoa was not, in practice, an unusually sober country. Ingredients from which beer could be brewed, illegally, were imported in considerable quantity.

And, in addition to liquor that may have been smuggled in, some stocks remained in private hands, as a result of stockpiling just before prohibition was enforced.

COLONIAL PATERNALISM I900-26 105 owners. During Richardson's visit to New Zealand, a decision had been taken that all these properties should, if possible, be leased to private interests. Trading concerns that were not leased would be closed down, so as to remove governmental competition with private enterprise. Further, the revenue from the estates would be credited to the Administration for developmental work, though it was hoped that

this would make possible a gradual reduction in the New Zealand subsidy. In order to gain the support of the Samoans for his policies, Richard-

son set to work to build up the standing of the Fono of Faipule. He recognized that, as a wholly nominated body with purely advisory functions, it had been regarded as little more than a piece of largely decorative paraphernalia associated with the Administrator. But he believed that the legal recognition given to it in the Samoa Amendment Act, 1923, and the publication of its proceedings in Samoan—an innovation made by him—provided a starting point for developing it

into a genuinely representative assembly. At his first meeting with

it, in June 1923, he announced that all communications to the Administrator from the districts must come, in future, through the appropriate Faipule, who would add his own comments and recommendations. He also began the practice of using committees of Faipule to advise him on a wide range of subjects. In addition, he directed the

Fono to make regulations; and these were given the force of law by the executive government, though the Fono possessed no legislative powers.* These changes greatly pleased the Faipule themselves, since they increased their sense of power and importance; and, in consequence, * In 1925 a booklet was issued by the Administration in Samoan, Tulafono mo

Samoa i Sisifo (aws for Western Samoa), containing a mixture of regulations possessing legal force and supposititious regulations made by the Fono. To remove some of the legal difficulties, ‘regulations’ made by the Fono up to

June 1924 were incorporated in the Native Regulations (Samoa) Order, 1925 (a New Zealand order in council). This was originally drafted in Samoa by the Chief Judge, who phrased its provisions in broad terms, in the hope that they would cover matters that might be included in ‘regulations’ subsequently made by the Fono. This rough-and-ready approach to the law, in which the head of the judiciary was ready to collaborate with the Administrator, was characteristic of the government’s underestimation of the knowledge and ability of the Samoan people.

Bell, who was a distinguished lawyer, seems to have had doubts about the procedure, but such was his confidence in Richardson that he took no effective action to force a change (see Richardson to Bell, 18 June 1924, 8 and 16 Jan. 1925—IT 1, 1/33/1).

106 SAMOA MO SAMOA they became Richardson’s willing coadjutors in his plans for reform. From their first meeting with him, they readily agreed to his requests for the imposition of a mass of obligations and restrictions upon the

Samoan people. Some of these were directly concerned with the attainment of his economic objectives, requiring, for example, the planting of trees to replace those that were felled or the cultivation of new or additional food and cash crops. Others were directed to the prohibition of long-established practices, such as the undertaking of malaga for the distribution of fine mats, which he considered to be wasteful of time or resources. During a short session between 25 May and 2 June 1924 a particularly large number of such regulations was

made; but, beyond that, a system of local government was constituted that was intended to supersede the ancient structure of district and village fono.* In each of the districts represented by a Faipule, a district council was

to be established. Membership was to consist of representatives of the constituent villages and Samoan officials of the central government,

such as pulefa’atoaga and pulenu’u, with the Faipule as president. The councils were to ‘control all local matters’. As defined by the Fono, these included most of the normal executive functions of local bodies, such as responsibility for roads, water-supplies, and sanitation, and a few others, such as the duty of replanning villages in accordance

with governmental directions, that seemed to derive mainly from Richardson’s personal interests. They were also to supervise Samoan agricultural activities, prescribing, for example, the number of taro and coconuts to be planted each year. In addition, they were to possess

a variety of judicial, and quasi-judicial, powers: responsibility for the enforcement of regulations made by the Fono of Faipule; the power to suspend any “Chief or Official’ in a village who neglected his

duties and to fine parents who failed to send their children to school. The Faipule in each district was to define many of these functions in

detail; and behind him were to stand the supervising staff of the Department of Native Affairs and, finally, the Administrator. Below the district councils, there were to be village committees ‘to lay down * The decisions of the Fono concerning local government were among those legally validated by the Native Regulations (Samoa) Order, 1925. The order constituted twenty districts but empowered the Administrator to ‘define or alter the boundaries of such districts or create any new districts’. In practice, he seems to have increased their number, so that they coincided with Faipule districts (see RC, 265-6).

COLONIAL PATERNALISM 1900-26 107 rules and enforce the carrying out of orders issued by the Government

and the District Councils’. The chairman of each village committee was to be the pulenu’u, and its members were to be either the whole of the matai or a select group of them, as might be decided in each case. Women’s committees were also being formed in the villages to co-operate with the Department of Health in the improvement of hygiene and medical care. In regard to the whole scheme of local government, Richardson wrote: “By these means the Natives are gradually learning to think for themselves, to initiate schemes for their own advancement . . .’.3® But he had no doubt that the driving force behind this development remained his own mind and will. When the district councils began to function, they provided the

Administrator with a handy instrument for the attainment of his multifarious purposes. Led by the Faipule, and with other paid officials among their members, they were generally willing to impose his will on the people. As the Samoans began to plant new crops, to take part in the agricultural competitions that he promoted, to submit

to injections against hookworm and yaws, and to listen attentively to the injunctions to even greater efforts that he delivered on his annual

visits to the districts, Richardson seems to have formed the conviction that almost anything was possible. And one of the most important things that he wanted to achieve was a change in the system

of land tenure. In January 1924 he had first proposed to the Fono of Faipule that each Samoan taxpayer should be allocated an area of land for cultivation; and towards the end of that year he had sent a delega-

tion of Faipule to study the actual working of a similar system of land-holding in Tonga. In May 1925, with those who had visited Tonga firmly on his side, he placed detailed proposals before the Fono; and these were unanimously adopted.%®

Under the new system individual matai were to retain the pule over cultivated land but were to be enjoined—or perhaps compelled— to divide it into suitable blocks for use by individuals. Uncultivated land, which was normally under the control of the village fono, was to be transferred to that of the district councils. Every taxpayer without land was to be allocated a five-acre block; and, when he had completely planted it, he was to receive a second block. Councils were empowered to grant an occupant a ‘lifetime leasehold title’ and to charge him an

annual rental. On his death the council would decide to whom the land should pass, “whethere his widow (until she marries again) or a son

of the deceased’. Except within the limits of this system, Samoans

108 SAMOA MO SAMOA were forbidden not only to sell or lease land, but even to buy it, without the consent of the government. The Legislative Council proved much less helpful to Richardson

than the Fono of Faipule. When elective representation had been authorized, it had been intended that this should include both European

and Samoan members. But, after Richardson’s arrival, the Faipule had withdrawn their earlier approval of Samoan membership. They

were jealous, it seems, of their own increasing authority; and it suited the Administrator to be able to discuss his Samoan policy only with so compliant a group of men. Thus, the actual electoral legislation

made provision only for three European members elected under a fairly restrictive property franchise. The first elections were held in January 1924, when Richardson’s standing with the better-off section of the European community was at its highest. He had made a practice of consulting bodies such as the Chamber of Commerce, the Planters’

Association, and the Samoa Welfare League; and the news he had given them on his return from New Zealand towards the end of 1923 had increased their respect for his ability and good sense. He had, in

addition, fully recognized the stature of the most notable of the newly elected members, O. F. Nelson, and had freely discussed his

problems with him. The new council thus began its work in an atmosphere of general goodwill; and, at the end of its first session, the elected members presented an address-in-reply that was highly eulogistic of Richardson and his administration. Gradually, however, the atmosphere changed. The euphoria of the honeymoon gave place to the disenchantment that leads to divorce. Responsibility for this deterioration in relationships was primarily Richardson’s. The Samoa Act provided him with an official majority in the council; and he used this, with little restraint, to secure the unmodified adoption of govern-

ment proposals. He believed that his obligations were primarily to New Zealand and to the Samoans and that the views of the latter were fully represented in the Fono of Faipule. “The Elected members’, he said, ‘represent primarily the interests of the European community,

while the Government Members must include in their outlook the interests of the Government in its task imposed by the Mandate of promoting the welfare of the Samoan Race. . . .4° And, on similar grounds, he was prepared to justify legislation for Samoa by New Zealand order in council, without consultation of the local legislature.*! In 1926, when the campaign for the second election of council

members was in progress, the Samoa Times commented that ‘the

COLONIAL PATERNALISM IQ00-26 109 duties of these members are purely advisory’ and urged electors to vote for the candidates whose advice the Administrator was most likely to heed.*# The role accorded to the elected members was thus a very minor one. Even within the field in which their advice was, in theory, acceptable,

their position was an unsatisfactory one. As the representatives of taxpayers, they were worried by the continued resort to borrowing to finance developmental works, by the high level of governmental expenditure in general, and by the cost of administration in particular.

Yet they were not provided with copies of the annual estimates till the eve of their debate in the council. They considered—not surprisingly, in view of their inability to control the estimates—that they should be consulted on the establishment and salary structure of the public service. Their views on the latter subject were also related to a social problem of considerable difficulty. A large proportion of the part-Europeans, lacking both training and access to land, lived in poverty or circumstances of economic insecurity. Richardson made several attempts to help them, but with little effect; and there was a constant demand that more openings should be provided for local people in the public service, through a reduction in the number of expatriate officials.

As time went on, the elected members were increasingly irked by Richardson’s contention that they had no right to speak for the Samoans. They regarded this as unreasonable, since Nelson was part-

Samoan and both his colleagues had married women of Samoan descent. For their part, they firmly rejected the corollary to his view— that the Samoans were adequately represented by officials—and asked for the addition of Samoan members to the council. This request was

rejected not only on the basis of the opposition of the Fono to it but also on the ground that Samoans would not be able to take an effective part in the council’s proceedings, an opinion that Nelson denounced

as ‘an insult to their intelligence’.* The failure of the Legislative Council as an organ of representative government thus contributed to a narrowing of the divergence of interest and outlook between the European and Samoan communities.

This deterioration of relations between officials and European elected members reflected an antagonism of a much more basic kind. Nelson was, in a sense, a symbol of local European aspirations. He was a rich man, the head of Samoa’s most important trading firm. When he had made a world tour in 1920, he had written home on the notepaper of hotels such as the Savoy in London, and Lloyd George had

IIo SAMOA MO SAMOA been amongst those who had entertained him. In Samoa he lived, and entertained, in a style which vied with that of the Administrator. Able young men took courage from his example: what one part-Samoan had achieved should not be beyond the capacity of others. And even

those who lacked the courage or opportunity to emulate him were sustained in their sense of personal consequence. The local European community had passed beyond the point at which the assumptions of superiority of expatriate officials and the unabashed paternalism

of Sir George Richardson might have been tolerable. Among the Samoans, too, there were men of influence whose contacts with the modern world made them similarly sensitive to these

official attitudes. One such man was the youthful Tupua Tamasese Lealofi II, who, as a boy, had visited Europe with his father—the first Tamasese Lealofi—and had subsequently been educated in Samoa by the Marists and gained a fair command of the English language.*

Another was Faumuina Fiamé Mulinu’t—later Mata’afa Faumina Fiamé Mulinu’ti—who was married to a daughter of the former king, Malietoa Laupepa.t Still another was Afamasaga Toleafoa Lagolago,

of the Petaia family. Both Faumuina and Afamasaga, who were considerably older than Tamasese, had for many years lived in close contact with Europeans and entertained senior officials in their homes. And Afamasaga had a wide experience of commerce. When Richardson arrived in Samoa, Afamasaga was the owner of

several stores. But, at an earlier stage, he had been the dominant figure in a much more ambitious enterprise. This was the Toeaina Club, which had been formed early in the war, with the support of the two Fautua, Malietoa Tanumafili and Tupua Tamasese Lealofi I. The club’s objects had been partly social—to bring Samoans together and, in particular, to provide an opportunity for them to settle land and titles disputes informally, without recourse to the government. But the most important of them had been economic, a revival of those of the Samoan trading company of 1904-5 that had so worried the Germans. The club had purchased a small vessel, in order to reduce freights and passenger fares on the Samoan coast; it had traded in * Tupua Tamasese Lealofi I nad died in October 1915 (Samoa Times, 16 Oct. 1915) and been succeeded in the title by a son, who also took the name Lealofi. On the death of the second Lealofi, his younger half-brother, who was still a

boy, had been elected to it and had taken the same name, to become Tupua Tamasese Lealofi III.

+ His son, Mata’afa Faumuina Fiamé Mulinu’t II, became the first Prime Minister of Western Samoa in 1959 and still holds office (in 1966).

COLONIAL PATERNALISM I900-26 III copra, to increase the return to Samoan producers; and it had operated

a restaurant in Apia. Like the earlier trading company, it had been unable to raise sufficient capital from the people of the villages; and it had eventually been compelled by the government to go into liquidation. Afamasaga’s other ventures had been no more successful. In 1924

he was declared bankrupt, and he was later sentenced to a term of imprisonment for the misappropriation of church funds that had been placed in his care. But this was the tragedy of a man caught between two worlds, rather than the result of incompetence or, in Samoan eyes, of dishonesty. In his heyday he had been much consulted by successive Administrators (including Richardson); and Samoans continued to

seek his advice, as 2 man who understood the alien intricacies of modern government. Men such as he represented a new element in Samoan life, one that accorded ill with the old-fashioned assumptions about colonial rule of the New Zealand government and its representatives in the territory. There was, too, an unsophisticated quality about the Administration that reduced its acceptability to the Samoans and sometimes exposed it to ridicule. Most of its senior officers were men of limited background, unaccustomed to the responsibilities that they bore. Even Richardson himself, despite the high rank to which he had attained, still possessed

some of the simplicities that belonged to his earlier years as an instructor in gunnery; and, for this reason, his very seriousness of purpose

led him into error. Though he took trouble, for example, to speak to

Samoans in their own language, it was later written of one of his meetings with Samoans—admittedly, with hostility but probably also with accuracy—that he ‘barked at them in his pigeon-Samoan (sic) that he was so vain in displaying’.44 And, though he took great pains to make his annual visits to the districts memorable occasions, he

failed to understand that the display of ordinary human sympathy was more important than the most elaborate organization. A story is told of how, on one occasion, he refused to allow the medical officer accompanying him to attend a woman dying in child-birth, since it would have delayed his pompous progress.** In Samoa such incidents were long remembered against him. Richardson was poorly advised by his staff, but he was also strongly

resistant to opinion that conflicted with his own. As an American observer later wrote: *... you didn't tell things to Governor Richardson. He told you’.** And from the start he had been determined to

speak, rather than to listen, to the Samoans. In a memorandum

I12 SAMOA MO SAMOA written two nionths after his arrival (and published soon afterwards), he wrote: The Natives are loyal, happy, and contented; they are proud to be associated with the British Empire. . . . the Samoan has, however, no thought for to-morrow, and no vision as to the future of these islands. . . . It will be my duty to co-operate with all who have the future welfare of

Samoa at heart . . ., with a view to formulating some policy for the inculcation of a true, loyal, and national spirit into the minds of the young

Natives, and promoting aims and ideals to guide them in their future lives. Here in Samoa is a splendid but backward Native race. . . .4”

The public reiteration, throughout his period of office, of this olympian

view of his responsibilities effectively removed the possibility of his gaining the full confidence of Samoans, apart from those who were prepared to pander to his vanity. Consistently with his intention of creating a national spirit, he adopted—as a description of his policy objectives—the slogan ‘Samoa

mo Samoa (‘Samoa for the Samoans’). But, consistently with his paternalist attitude, he took it for granted that it was he who must determine the shape of the Samoa that the people should have. The chain of authority within his system of Samoan administration was of a simple hierarchical kind. Orders were issued at the higher level—by the Administrator or those, such as the Faipule, to whom authority had been delegated—for execution at the lower. Requests or recom-

mendations were routed upwards through the hierarchy till they reached the level at which a decision could be taken. The complex network of relationships within the traditional political structure, which served to maintain balance and self-respect, was being subordinated to the stark simplicities of military organization. The effects of the change were complex and, inevitably, dangerous. It divided Samoan society between those who held office under the government

and those who did not. The Faipule, in particular, who, in many cases, seem to have gained a genuine enthusiasm for Richardson’s

policies, were also won over by the growth in the influence and status that their positions gave them; and the attitude towards them of those who lacked their privileges became, correspondingly, one of

antagonism. But this conflict was not one of influence and status alone. Unlike his German predecessors, who had been no less concerned

with the establishment of gubernatorial authority, Richardson accepted the humanitarian thinking of the post-war world. He wished to subject the Samoans to his will in order that he could impose on

COLONIAL PATERNALISM 1900-26 113 them a comprehensive policy of social and economic development. The actions of the government and its Samoan officials thus impinged upon the ordinary lives of the people far more extensively than ever before.

For these reasons, Richardson’s challenge to custom was a far stronger one than that of the Germans, though it was a less conscious one, since he lacked the intimate understanding of the forces at work in Samoan society that both Solf and Schultz had possessed. And, as always, the Samoans prepared, in their devious and sophisticated way, to respond to the challenge. In the districts and villages government policies failed to operate in the way that was intended. The district councils failed to proceed with the division of the land into individual holdings. And when, in 1926, it was proposed that the ancient system of election to matai titles should be replaced by one that would permit an existing holder to nominate his successor, even the Faipule failed to implement the Administrator’s wishes. As early as October 1925 the Samoa Times had printed a letter from

Mr Newton Rowe, a former public servant who had become a trader in Savai’i. Rowe's nominal purpose was to eulogize the former German administration. True, it was swayed by no hysterical enthusiasms, nor did it gladly suffer cranks to propound mean and conflicting ideas to a fine race of primitives; nor yet did it shamelessly advertize its intentions as achievements; neither did it confound ‘impudence’ with ‘enterprise’. But we know that negative

qualities can sometimes be accounted virtues. It did not endeavour to make sins out of natural actions... . Apparently it had the sense to realize that suburban respectability is for the suburbs.‘

But, in reality, Rowe’s letter was an expression of protest against existing policies, a crystallization from the gathering clouds of Samoan

discontent. When the storm finally broke a year later, indirection such as his was forgotten; and most of Richardson’s policies—the product of good intentions and a commanding will, but also of a suburban mind—were submerged in a flood of frank denunciation.

5 THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 N 28 September 1926 O. F. Nelson, who had just returned

C ) fom a lengthy visit to Australia and New Zealand, was accorded a public welcome at Apia, at which Sir George Richardson was the principal speaker. Richardson praised Nelson warmly, as a man who was giving conspicuous service to his country and as a greatly valued friend. Richardson himself was spoken of with similar warmth: by the chairman, as ‘a citizen-soldier of the highest humane type’; and, by Nelson, as a man whose personal kindness and friendship

had been unaffected by differences of opinion on public issues. The tone of these speeches owed something, no doubt, to the occasion

and to the Samoan convention of ornate politeness; but they also reflected a genuine, if not unqualified, mutual regard. Yet, even before they were made, Nelson and others had embarked on a course

of action that was, within a few months, to reduce Richardson’s administration to ruin. This conflict between personal sympathy and political antipathy, between public eulogy and private criticism, was a product, in part, of circumstances endemic in the colonial relationship and, in part, of ones that were peculiar to Samoa. Officials responsible for the control of a dependency frame their decisions, basically, in terms of the concepts and values of their own culture. The people of the dependency judge them and their work, on the contrary, in relation to the local cultural situation. Allowance is made, by men of perception on both sides, for cultural differences. But the effectiveness of this process is commonly limited by deficiencies of mutual understanding; and the relationship between rulers and ruled itself tends to inhibit free communication between the two groups. If accepted standards of decorum are to be maintained, public statements must be more reticent, less revealing of

private thinking, than is necessary when rulers and ruled share a common cultural background.

In relation to Western Samoa it was the understanding of the 114

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 IIS

Administrator that determined policy, since his was the dominant influence in the structure of official authority. The convention of Ministerial acquiescence, which Bell had established, was complemented by the inadequacies of the Department of External Affairs. The Minister and his officers in Wellington possessed little knowledge

of Samoa beyond that which was provided by Richardson and his departmental heads, who were committed to his policies and were, in any case, generally incapable of correcting his deficiencies of judgement.* When statements had to be made, or decisions taken, by New Zealand, the Minister was carefully briefed—either directly or through private correspondence with his staff—as to their substance. Richardson himself had no doubts as to the merits or general acceptability of the existing form of government. °. . . I do not hesitate to assert’, he

wrote, ‘that the present form in Samoa is absolutely the correct or rather the best one under present conditions, and will be the most suitable for the Samoans for many years to come.” The criticisms voiced by Nelson and his colleagues in the Legislative Council had irked him, because he had considered them to be worthless and to represent the views of only a tiny minority. ‘. . . I must confess to feeling very “fed up” with politics,’ he had told Bell in 1925. ‘I felt also, a hypocrite through having to thank them for their assistance during the past year when I had not received one atom of help from them.’ On the Samoan side Nelson was a figure of equal importance. As the holder of the important $4 Tupua title of Taisi, he possessed a standing in the Samoan social structure that complemented his position

as the head of the territory's leading commercial firm.t Through the * They received, for example, a statement on the selection of Faipule by the Secretary of Native Affairs, H. S. Griffin, that was completely at variance with the facts and with the Administrator’s purported policy. Griffin wrote: ‘... the Faipule is the highest chief in the district he represents, and he has already been elected to the title he holds in his district by the leading people in his district. In selecting the Faipule therefore, for any particular district His Excellency has

only to know the name of the leading chief in the district to know whom to select for the post of Faipule’ (statement by Griffin, enc. in Administrator to Minister, 13 Dec. 1926—IT 1, 1/23/8). } The original Taisi was a son of Tuia’ana Galumalemana. One of his descend-

ants married an important holder of the Tuimaleali’ifano title and another Malietoa Laupepa. A daughter of the latter was the wife of Faumuina Fiamé Mulinu’t, who was to become a leading political associate of Nelson. The Taisi title had fallen into obscurity; but, characteristically, its distinguished origin enabled it to become again a title of importance when it was held by a man of Nelson’s distinction.

116 SAMOA MO SAMOA gravity of his public demeanour and the calculated ostentation of his

private life he had become a symbol of the local challenge to the pretensions of the official establishment. Through his wealth and his talent he had gained an influence that permeated most sections of the community. Expatriate officials regarded him with a mixture of respect,

anxiety and derision. They referred to him—since he was known to his friends as Fred—as ‘Frederick the Great’.5

Richardson and Nelson were brought together by an appreciation of each other’s personal qualities but divided by their conflicting ambitions. Richardson regarded Nelson as able, generous and, on the

whole, co-operative, but exceedingly vain.§ Nelson recognized Richardson’s energy and sincerity, but disliked his egotism, which made him autocratic and insensitive to local opinion. Their relationship

was thus one of outward friendship and mutual respect but not of intimacy. Each pursued his course in some trepidation of the response of the other. When Nelson had been in Wellington, he had obtained an interview with the Prime Minister, the Right Honourable J. G. Coates, and the

Honourable W. Nosworthy, who had succeeded Bell as Minister of External Affairs. He had enumerated local grievances against the Administration and asked that Nosworthy should investigate them on the spot. His request had been immediately accepted, since Nosworthy had already arranged to visit Samoa. On his return home he had discussed preparations for the Minister’s visit; and it had been decided that the elected members of the Legislative Council should call a public meeting, at which a committee could be formed to draft a full statement of complaints and requests. An initial meeting, which attracted an audience of between 250 and 300, was held on 15 October and a subsequent one—at which attendance was variously estimated at between 400 and 600o—four weeks later.’

Formally, this procedure was of a quite ordinary kind and in full accord with local precedent. But, politically, several factors had emerged that radically changed the situation. Before the first meeting Samoans in close contact with the European community— including Faumuina Fiamé Mulinu’i and Afamasaga Lagolago—had suggested that their own people should be associated with it. At this meeting Europeans and Samoans were present in almost equal numbers, and the committee that was appointed contained representatives of both groups. At the second meeting the attendance was predominantly Samoan. Further, on the eve of the first meeting, it was made known

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 117

that the Minister’s visit, which had been expected to take place late in October, would be delayed by over six months. The former of these developments had been regarded by the government not only with alarm but as evidence of improper intervention by Europeans in Samoan affairs. In particular, the institution of joint action by the two groups made a mockery of Richardson’s political theory and practice,

with the result that he had a letter presented to the second meeting, in which he warned the Europeans not to meddle in Samoan affairs and informed the Samoans that their complaints must be presented

through the district councils and the Fono of Faipule. The latter development—regarding the Minister’s visit—had been instigated by Richardson, who asked Nosworthy to postpone it in order that no one should think he had been moved by Nelson’s representations.* The committee requested Nosworthy to reconsider his decision; but, as he declined to do so, it was decided at the second meeting that he should be asked to receive a delegation in New Zealand.

Preparations for the departure of the delegation soon intensified Richardson’s opposition. A report on the public meetings was prepared for general distribution, with a request for funds to pay the delegation’s

expenses; an informal committee of Samoans from all parts of the country began to meet in Apia to help with the work; and Samoan members of the Citizens’ Committee went on tour to publicize their plans. Richardson countered these moves by attempting to intercept the committee’s reports and to prevent the raising of funds and by ordering the Samoan committee members not to leave specified places of residence. He refused to issue passports to the Samoans who had been chosen to go to New Zealand. And, at the first session of the Legislative Council in 1927, he secured the passage of a bill making it

an offence to advocate disobedience to, or spread false information

about, the government. Richardson and his colleagues saw no danger in these restrictive measures, since they believed that the Citizens’ Committee had only very limited support. Woodward, the Chief Judge, considered that ‘it is a storm in a teapot (sic), and a little storm at that’. Hutchen, the Secretary to the Administration, wrote: ‘It really is not a political agitation at heart... . It is a kick by the half* Richardson asked the Minister to postpone his visit in a telegram bearing the date 18 Oct. 1926 and received a reply bearing the same date and reading: ‘Regret unable to come November steamer’—IT 1, 1/23/8. Since the statement of postponement was made in Apia before the meeting of 15 Oct., Richardson would seem to have carried his presumption of ministerial acquiescence rather far on this occasion. E

118 SAMOA MO SAMOA castes at the white man.’ And early in December Richardson informed

the Minister that ‘Mr Nelson resents his loss of influence with the Natives’ and that ‘the affair has now ended’.® But these opinions grossly

underestimated Samoan discontent. In reality, Richardson’s actions were responsible for a movement originally intended for the orderly formulation of complaints beginning to acquire the characteristics of one for the fomentation of civil disaffection. Overtly, the Citizens’ Committee, and the larger Samoan committee that had been appended to it, still existed to pursue the objectives that had led to the calling of the two public meetings; but, under the

pressure of circumstances, they gained a momentum, and took a direction, that had not been consciously intended. The Administrator’s

action in effectively killing the proposal for a delegation to New Zealand led to the adoption of a more elaborate procedure. One member of the intended delegation, S. H. Meredith, left for New Zealand in January for the purpose of persuading the Minister to reverse the Administrator’s decisions and of publicizing Samoan grievances.* Reports by the Citizens’ Committee setting out complaints and requests were completed and forwarded to the Administrator for transmission to the Minister. And a lengthy petition to the

New Zealand Parliament was drafted for signature by Samoans representing all districts in the territory. The need to ensure adequate

support for the petition, and to undermine the Administrator's contention that the malcontents were an insignificant minority, required the building up of a mass organization. A former government

interpreter was appointed as full-time secretary; and traders in the villages were asked to act as agents for the distribution of literature and the collection of funds. Members of the informal Samoan com-

mittee exercised their talent for oratory and intrigue with the enthusiasm that Lauaki and his contemporaries had brought to these activities a generation earlier. In addition, since the Samoa Times was

taking a strongly pro-government line, an opposition newspaper, the Sainoa Guardian, was founded by Nelson and some of his associates. In March the movement was given a formal shape, as “The Samoan League’ or, in Samoan, “O le Mau’.t The League, or Mau (as it became

universally known), declared its objective to be: * To assist in the latter objective he published a pamphlet: S. H. Meredith, Western Samoa... How New Zealand Administers its Mandate from the League of Nations (Auckland, 1927). + For an explanation of the word mau, see p. 86, above.

Nelson explained its use in the current context as follows: ‘The word Mau

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The advancement of Samoa, and to present to the Administration and the Government of New Zealand from time to time subjects concerning the Government of Western Samoa which may be considered by the members of the League essential for the promotion of the peace, order, good government, and the general welfare of the territory. This mealy-mouthed statement was supplemented by a ‘Declaration of

Members’, in which certain of the clauses possessed, at least, some semblance of bite: We declare and believe that . . . all men are equal in the sight of God. ... that it is the inherited privilege of a person living under the British flag .. . to assist the memibers of a subject race in advancement towards... a government of the people in accordance with the will of the people. ... that it is a privilege, and a duty to society and Government, of every person to endeavour to procure by lawful means the alteration of any matter affecting the laws, government, or constitution of the territory which may be considered prejudicial to the welfare and best interests of

the people.

To Richardson, the paternalist, the unquestioning believer in the orderly procedures of a military hierarchy, this document perhaps smelt of sedition. But it was in the political ferment that surrounded the formation of the Mau, rather than in its professed aims, that the real challenge to his administration lay. During the months of waiting for the Minister’s promised visit, there was a growing desire among the Samoans for more direct action

against the government. In some parts of the country, the people began to neglect the compulsory weekly search for the rhinoceros beetle (the enemy of the coconut palm) and to show a general hostility to all governmental demands upon them. To Richardson this seemed to threaten the destruction of his whole programme for the advancement

of the country. It seemed to him, also, to be wholly the result of disingenuous propaganda by Europeans, such as Nelson, with com-

mercial interests to serve and their Samoan accomplices, such as Afamasaga Lagolago, whom he regarded as men of ill repute. Few Samoans shared his judgement either of men or of motives. And even the Faipule recognized the limited extent to which authority could be means an opinion, and also represents anything that is firm or solid. In this case the Mau represents that very large majority of the people of these islands who are of the firm opinion that drastic changes are necessary in the Administration and in the method of government in Samoa’ (Mandated Territory of Western Samoa (Report of Visit by Hon. W. Nosworthy, Minister of External Affairs to) .. .— AJHR, 1927, A4b, 26).

120 SAMOA MO SAMOA restored through official channels; they understood that the holder of government office was still, in a time of crisis, the slave of the world of custom. But Richardson possessed no such understanding. He placed

his confidence in the Fono of Faipule, which, for its own reasons, continued to praise him, and treated with scorn the pretensions of both the elected members of the Legislative Council and the leaders of the Mau. On 2 June the Minister finally arrived. His visit was a disaster. In part, this was a result of his own limitations. Nosworthy was a farmer, with a ministerial career of some length but little distinction, a man quite lacking in the tact and imagination required by his portfolio. But, in far greater part, it was a result of the lack of contact between the Administrator and the leaders of the Mau. Nosworthy had been carefully briefed by Richardson before he left Wellington." He had arrived on the eve of the King’s Birthday. His first day was spent in attending a sports meeting and a ball at Government House. Those that followed were occupied in meeting officials and the Faipule and in visiting schools and plantations. It is not surprising that he continued to accept Richardson’s analysis of the situation. Meanwhile, the Mau had brought large numbers of its supporters into Apia and provided them with badges, so that they could make their allegiance apparent to all. On the King’s Birthday it held a sports meeting at the same time as the official one, and in the evening there was a ball at Nelson’s home.

Between these parallel lines of activity there were no contacts except the sparks generated by a rising political tension. On 11 June, towards the end of his visit, Nosworthy met the Citizens’ Committee, which still functioned as the executive of the Mau, while several thousand Mau supporters sat quietly in the adjacent roadway

to await the return of their leaders. From the start Nosworthy’s conduct and speech were characterized by what Nelson later described as ‘blazing indiscretions. He branded the European members of the

committee as self-seeking intriguers, their criticisms of the Fono of Faipule as an attempt to undermine Samoan confidence ‘in their own institutions’, which was ‘nothing less than criminal, and deserving only to be dealt with as a crime’. As the room in which they were meeting

became hotter and stuffier, he became increasingly petty. Nelson argued, provocatively but with urbanity, that the Minister had simply accepted the Administrator’s analysis of the situation. Nosworthy’s replies to criticism—generally made as interjections—were the product of pique, rather than reason. ‘I am not a puppet’, he declared; and he

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 I2I

suggested that Nelson, by his manner of life and the scale of his hospitality, was bent on ‘aping . . . the Governor’. Though Samoans not infrequently insert hurtful insinuations in their own speeches, such a blatant resort to personalities seemed to them both irrelevant and vulgar. By the end of the meeting the Citizens’ Committee knew that there was little hope of reform so long as Nosworthy remained the responsible Minister. And this point was driven home even more clearly before he left Samoa, when he told members of the committee

that the law was to be amended to enable the Administration to deport Europeans (including part-Europeans) who were considered to be disaffected.1?

The presence of such large numbers of Mau supporters round Apia

finally convinced Richardson that the movement was not an insignificant one. Though he held Nelson responsible for its formation,

he believed that he was no longer able to control it.8 “The only satisfactory method of ruling Natives in the stage of development now reached by the Samoans, and which they understand’, he wrote, ‘is a

strong sympathetic and paternal autocracy.”* Shortly after the Minister’s departure, he issued a proclamation ordering the Mau to disband, threatening punishment to anyone ‘advising or suggesting any disobedience to the Government or Faipules’, and promising deportation without further warning to ‘all non-Samoan persons who try to continue the Mau or interfere in Native Affairs’.* This action had important consequences. Nelson and another member of the Citizens’ Committee, A. G. Smyth, agreed to go to New Zealand to

support the Samoan petition to Parliament; but, in Samoa itself, Europeans no longer felt that it was safe for them to take a public part in the work of the Mau. The Samoan leaders, for their part, refused to return to their home villages till they had received an answer from New Zealand to their request for reforms. Richardson retaliated by banishing Faumuina and Afamasaga, whom he regarded as the ring-leaders, to the island of Apolima; and, as this still had no effect, he pursued a policy of banishment and deprivation of matai * The proclamation—of which there is a copy in IT 1, 1/23/8—was dated 15 June 1927. Characteristically, Richardson did not specify the legal basis of the powers that he had purported to assume, but merely made a general statement that ‘authority has now been granted to me by the Government of New Zealand to deal with the ““Mau’’ and non-Samoans who brought it about’. In fact, his legal powers were deficient. The power to deport non-Samoans, for example, required an amendment to the Samoa Immigration Consolidation Order, 1924 (which was made on 20 June) and to the Samoa Act, 1921 (which came into force on § August).

[22 SAMOA MO SAMOA titles against a large number of others during the following weeks.

As a result, anti-government sentiment within the Mau became greatly intensified; and, at the same time, control passed largely into Samoan hands, with significant consequences for both the movement’s manner of working and its definition of objectives.

The slogan ‘Samoa mo Samoa’, which Richardson had used to oppose the political pretensions of the local Europeans, was adopted by

the Mau leaders and given a new meaning. On their lips “Samoa for the Samoans’ meant, primarily, “Samoa without the New Zealanders’. In pursuance of this objective, the Mau developed a broad campaign of non-co-operation with the Administration. Over a large part of the

country, district councils, village committees and women’s committees ceased to meet. Government officials, including the Adminis-

trator, were ignored by many villages when they went on tour. In some places the fono forbade any resort to courts of law. Children were withdrawn from government schools. Coconuts were left to rot on the ground, instead of being made into copra; and the banana plantations which had been established in response to the Administrator's successful

efforts to open up a market in New Zealand became overgrown through neglect. Many births and deaths were not registered. And some taxes remained unpaid.

In New Zealand the two houses of Parliament appointed a joint select committee to consider the Samoan petition. But, while it was still hearing the evidence of its first witness, Nelson, the government received a request from Sir George Richardson for the conduct of ‘an

impartial and independent inquiry’ and decided to appoint a royal commission.15 The commission, which was appointed on 12 Septem-

ber 1927, was charged to inquire into the complaints already made against the Administration, into faults of commission or omission on the part of the Administrator or government officials, and into the specific question of whether it would be ‘prudent or safe’ to terminate

the power of banishment. Sir Charles Skerrett, the Chief Justice of New Zealand, was appointed as chairman and C. E. McCormick, a Judge of the New Zealand Native Land Court, as the other member. Apart from examining the extensive documentation relating to the subjects of inquiry, the commissioners heard the evidence of 155 witnesses, of whom some acted as spokesmen for considerable groups. “We thus obtained’, they wrote, “the views of three hundred persons

in all.’ They submitted their report to the Governor-General on 29 November.!4

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 123

Members of the Citizens’ Committee and leaders of the Mau considered that the terms of reference of the commission were far too narrowly defined to permit of a thorough examination of the Samoan problem. Later they concluded that the commission had interpreted its responsibilities even more narrowly than it need have done. But,

though these limitations undoubtedly impaired the value of the commission’s report, they do not appear to have significantly restricted the evidence of Samoan grievances made available to it.

The reports prepared by the Citizens’ Committee at the end of 1926 had set out the causes of complaint that had developed during

Richardson’s period of office and a few, such as that relating to prohibition, which had existed even longer; and they had contained a number of proposals for reform.1? By the time of the commission’s visit to Samoa, the case against the government had been considerably expanded. As in the past the grievances of the European community,

with its predominantly urban and commercial interests, were not identical with those of the Samoans; but social change, the general unpopularity of Richardson’s administration, and the influence of Nelson and others had made these differences much less significant.

Only during the cross-examination of witnesses before the commission did they become at all apparent.

The opinion of the European leaders on matters not relating to Samoan custom was not markedly different from that of businessmen in New Zealand, except that it was even less tolerant of the welfare-

state thinking that had been so influential there since the 1890s. Governmental activity, it was believed, should be as limited as possible, in terms both of function and of expenditure. Restrictions on business

or the individual were inherently undesirable, and government competition with private enterprise was wholly unacceptable. The imposition of new taxes, such as the medical tax, and the continued reliance on loan funds—even on a small scale—for the development

of medical and educational services were thus seen as causes of legitimate complaint. Private medical practitioners should be encouraged to settle in Samoa, as they had done in German times; and the missions should be assisted to provide, less expensively, the major part of such limited educational facilities as were considered desirable. The growth of the public service was seen as an evil in itself, quite apart from the fact that its reliance on expatriates, generally

of no high level of professional competence, increased expenditure and aroused social resentment. Rather similarly, the maintenance of

124 SAMOA MO SAMOA prohibition was an infringement of personal liberties, as well as an incitement to illegality and a practical inconvenience. Most obnoxious of all, both in principle and as a portent of future possibilities, was the government’s decision to handle high-grade Samoan copra. Richardson had reached the conclusion that his efforts

to improve the quality of Samoan production were being hindered by the practice of the merchants of buying all copra at a single price; and he believed that the price-fixing arrangements that had long been maintained by the firms operated to the disadvantage of the producers. In 1926 he had obtained the Minister’s agreement for New Zealand Reparation Estates—the organization controlling the former German properties that had not been sold or leased—to handle copra on behalf of Samoan producers. In 1927 N.Z.R.E. began selling premium-grade

Samoan copra on consignment, paying the producer a substantial advance when the copra was received. At the time of the commission’s

visit, only about roo tons had been handled in this way. But the merchants contended that they had been given no opportunity of considering the problem of paying a higher price for better quality copra, that N.Z.R.E. had made no study of its handling costs, and that, in any case, its advances were too high in relation to world prices.

The introduction of the scheme in 1927 also aroused suspicions; and Nelson, whose firm possessed over forty trading stations representing an investment, in his estimation, of between £50,000 and £60,000, believed that it was designed to ruin him in retaliation for his political activities.

In themselves these predominantly European causes of complaint were not ones that were likely to arouse Samoan political passions. Indeed, Richardson’s copra-buying scheme had much in common with that of the Samoan company of 1904-5 and with those promoted

by Afamasaga Toleafoa Lagolago some fifteen years later. But, on the whole, the Mau supported the European complaints. Samoans resented the salaries and government houses enjoyed by expatriate officials. They feared they would lose even more of their freedom— perhaps even their lands—if government loans could not be repaid.

They disliked the medical tax, both as a drain on their private resources and because many of them lived at a distance from any hospital

or dispensary. They were sympathetic, as staunch religious conformists, to the suggestion that the missions should be accorded a larger role in education. In the circumstances of general disaffection that prevailed, the alliance between the laissez-faire conservatism of

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 125

the Europeans and the tradition-based conservatism of the Samoans was scarcely even an uneasy one. In political matters and in those relating to custom there was, on

the contrary, no important divergence of outlook even at the theoretical level. All the members and supporters of the Mau saw Richardson as a ‘military martinet’!® who arrogantly disregarded their

opinions and sensibilities, and all sought a substantial relaxation of New Zealand control. The Samoans had been humiliated by Richardson through his exercise of powers that belonged to the sphere of custom and his creation of a political structure in which the effective

participants were all, ultimately, his subordinates. The Samoan Offenders Ordinance, 1922, which empowered the Administrator to banish any Samoan and to deprive a matai of his title, had been passed before his arrival and had itself followed the lines of a proclamation issued by Solf in 1901. But Richardson had used it, from quite early in his period of office, in ways that were certain to arouse widespread opposition. In 1924, for example, Tupua Tamasese Lealofi III had been

banished for an unspecified period for failing to remove a hibiscus hedge from land that he believed to be his own. When he left his enforced place of residence to ascertain the duration of his disabilities,

he had been sentenced to imprisonment, deprived of his title, and banished again after his release from gaol.* After the formation of the Mau the powers conferred by the Ordinance had been invoked almost with abandon. Between the Minister’s visit in June and that of the commission in September fifty Samoans had been penalized under

it; and, as in the preceding years, many of those affected had been matai of high standing. In the eyes of most Samoans, the powers conferred by the Ordinance represented a perversion of custom. And the manner in which they were exercised—often on the advice of a committee of Faipule—only increased Samoan resentment. Richard-

son's harsh treatment of Tamasese was only one example of his insensitivity to the traditional position of the tama’diga. He had also treated the position of Fautua as little more than an anachronism and

had seldom sought the advice of its two holders, Malietoa and * The New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 9 May 1929, contended that the treatment

of Tamasese provided the real origin of the Mau. Colonel Allen, Richardson’s successor as Administrator, noted that Dr S. M. Lambert, a very well informed observer, was of the same opinion (Administration. Notes. by Col. S. S. Allen— IT 1, 1/57). For Tamasese’s own statement, see RC, 89-91. There is an interesting commentary on the matter in N. A. Rowe, Samoa under the Sailing Gods (London

and New York, 1930), 168-70.

126 SAMOA MO SAMOA Tuimalealvifano. In December 1926, when he had informed the Minister of his suspension of the latter for supporting the Citizens’ Committee, he had discounted the political importance of his action in the words ‘he is not a Faipule’.1®

Samoan antagonism to the government was, indeed, centred upon

the Fono of Faipule. Whenever a vacancy in its membership had occurred, Richardson had made the new appointment for a fixed three-year term after consulting the district concerned. But most of its

members still held office under the former procedure by which appointment was for an indefinite period and terminable only by a decision of the Administrator. Moreover, the procedure of consultation in regard to the more recent appointments had provided little opportunity for a real expression of opinion: the government had made its own selection and simply asked the matai of the district to signify their approval of it. The Faipule were thus still regarded as government officials, not as genuine district representatives. For this reason, the position accorded them by Richardson, and his insistence on their right to speak as properly accredited representatives of the

Samoan people, had aroused bitter opposition. In reality, it was contended, their support of his innumerable projects of reform had been primarily the action of salaried officials who were wholly depend-

ent on the continuance of his patronage. But, because it had been treated as evidence of popular opinion, well-meant but unsuitable policies had been imposed on the people. The most important of these —such as those relating to district councils, land tenure or banishment—

had conflicted directly with the traditional structure of authority. Others—such as those requiring the payment of new taxes or the planting of new crops—had imposed burdensome obligations. In the Samoan petition to Parliament, the signatories had declared: Starting from ourselves and our wives, even to our children, we all complain together at the weight of the load we have to carry nowadays, brought about by some laws made expressly for the Samoans, oppressing us to the point of slavery, whereas we cannot believe this to be our status.

.... The Samoans are well described in one of our old proverbs: “We are moved by love, but are never driven by intimidation’ .2°

This load would be lifted from their shoulders, they believed, only when the selection of Faipule was placed wholly in the hands of the districts, for only in that way would the Administrator gain advisers who felt obliged to voice the opinions of their constituents.

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 127

But, like the Europeans, the Samoan leaders of the Mau were as much concerned with the future of the Legislative Council as with

that of the Fono of Faipule. They were aware that Richardson’s treatment of the Fono as a body that made laws had no constitutional basis and that the council was the country’s legislature. They demanded the addition of Samoan members to the council. Specifically, both

Samoans and Europeans asked that the number of official and unofficial members should be equal, so that the retention of government control would be dependent on the Administrator’s exercise of his casting vote, as president. Further, since so many grievances were concerned with the lack of local control of finance, a suggestion was made for the establishment of an independent and elected financial board.

Behind all the specific causes of complaint were other factors far less easy to define. These had their origin in the inevitable consequences of the Western impact and in the common attributes of colonial paternalism. Samoan society is conservative, structurally complex, supported by an intricate network of conventional proprieties. For just on a century it had been exposed to the unceasing pressures of social change. The position of the political groups—in particular, of Tiimua and Pule—had been weakened; the authority of the matai over his family had become less dominant; the value judgements of individuals had been affected by Christianity and by the incentives of a money economy. These changes had represented a loss, as well as a gain. They had bred a nostalgia for an idealized past. Most of Richardson’s reforms had been designed to accelerate the inevitable process of change, so that Samoan traditionalism had been intensified

and, in part, converted into hostility towards the government. The assumptions, as well as many of the forms and practices, of colonial rule had produced, in addition, a sense of humiliation. Affirmations by

Richardson that he knew what was best for the Samoans, that his officers could represent them in the Legislative Council more effectively than they could represent themselves, had been resented. Actions such as those that had been taken against Tupua Tamasese Lealofi had been

interpreted as signs of contempt for Samoan custom and for the men whom the people accepted as their leaders. The disdain shown by many expatriate officials in their dealings with both Samoans and Europeans had embittered relations between government and people. This attitude of disdain was as important a cause of the alienation of

European, as of Samoan, opinion. Both part-Europeans and full Europeans whose wives were of Samoan descent had been treated

128 SAMOA MO SAMOA as outsiders by an official establishment whose members possessed little claim to personal distinction. As the Mau had developed and relationships consequently became more strained, bitterness had reached a new level of intensity. At the heart of Samoan discontent was the feeling of individual men and women that their New Zealand rulers did not accept them as equals.

But the deficiencies in the policy and practice of government, and the personal limitations of its agents, had affected Samoa in another

and, in the long run, more important way. Samoan political techniques had evolved in the service of rival claims to the great titles, such as those of the Tuia’ana and Tuiatua; and similar rivalries had character-

ized political activity at every level. The continuing vitality of these rivalries, indeed, provided the explanation of some of Richardson’s practices and difficulties. An official nomination had been made when a new Faipule had to be appointed because few districts could reach agreement on the submission of a single name. The Faipule themselves

had earned popular disfavour not only because of what they had done but because their official position had increased their social standing. But the emergence of a common opposition to the government had made these internal divisions less important and made it possible for the traditional techniques to be brought to the service of a unified movement. By the time of the commission’s visit a majority of the Samoan people supported the Mau. The commission itself, while drawing attention to the impossibility of obtaining exact figures, concluded that ‘a very substantial proportion of Samoans had joined the Mau, a number quite sufficient, if they determined to resist and thwart the activities of the Administration, to paralyse the functions of government’.* The character of the commission’s report was, therefore, of

great importance. The Mau had received no satisfaction from the Minister. If it received none as a result of the report, the further extension of civil disobedience was certain. In fact, when the commissioners’ conclusions became known towards the end of the year,

and even more fully when the report itself became available, the worst fears of the Mau were confirmed. The commission considered that a number of the matters that had been traversed during the public * RC, xxiv. Of the position at the time of the Minister’s visit, the commission wrote: ‘It is certain . . . that somewhere in the region of about one-half of the adult male members of Samoa were adherents of the Maw’ (ibid.). By the time of its own visit, support had clearly increased.

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 129

hearings did not fall within its terms of reference or were ones on which it possessed inadequate information. These included the copra purchasing scheme and the allegations of governmental extravagance.

On these matters it expressed no conclusions, though it permitted itself to be highly critical of the Mau and Citizens’ Committee evidence. In respect of all the other subjects that had been discussed, it concluded that the complaints were without foundation. It dismissed,

for example, the charge that Richardson had acted without “due regard to the customs and feelings of the people of Samoa’ and affirmed

the justice and propriety of his policy in regard to the Faipule and of his exercise of the power of banishment.”! The commissioners seem to have reached conclusions so clearly

contrary to those of the majority of Samoans for several reasons. They had approached their task in a legal, rather than a broadly political, frame of mind. They had found it easy to appreciate the merits of Richardson’s broad policy objectives; but, since they lacked any real understanding of Samoan society, they had failed to under-

stand the force of the objections to his manner of attaining them. Further, they had quickly seized upon the point that one or two of the minor complaints—such as that relating to the medical tax—were

the product of cantankerousness, rather than of common sense. Finally, they had accepted Richardson’s own view that the Mau was largely the product of intrigue by a few unscrupulous and ambitious men, under Nelson’s domination. Since Nosworthy’s visit in June Europeans who were known to be sympathizers of the Mau had been increasingly nervous about their position. They had noted the paranoid tone of some of Richardson’s statements;2? and they feared that, if legal action should be taken against them, they would receive anything but impartial treatment

from the Chief Judge, W. H. Woodward. The latter, who had previously served as legal officer to the Administration, had always been unacceptable to the local community.” Since his elevation to the bench

he had become known, through his membership of the Legislative Council and his close association with Richardson, as a committed supporter of official policies. In July he had been convicted of conduct likely to provoke a breach of the peace after forcibly removing badges from the clothing of Mau supporters.?* To Nelson, in particular, since his vulnerability was increased by the extent of his business interests, the situation seemed to be one that threatened complete personal ruin. These fears were partially realized when, shortly after the commission's

130 SAMOA MO SAMOA conclusions were released, Nelson, E. W. Gurr (the editor of the Samoa Guardian), and A. G. Smyth were ordered ‘to depart .. . and to remain

absent from Western Samoa’, Nelson and Gurr for five years and Smyth for two years.* Nelson had exercised a restraining influence upon the Mau leader-

ship. Both by temperament and out of concern for his personal interests he disliked disorder and violence. Before he left Samoa, he held a meeting with the Mau, at the request of the Administrator,

and urged it to disperse; but anti-government fecling had been exacerbated by the deportation proceedings, and he evoked no response. On the day he sailed for New Zealand members of the Mau appeared in the streets of Apia in uniform—a purple turban, a white shirt, and a purple lavalava with a white stripe.?® During the succeeding weeks the uniform was constantly seen, as the Mau passed in procession

through the town and, more ominously, as its police force picketed the principal European-owned stores. In the villages, where the people increasingly ignored the instructions of government officers and refused to pay taxes, the situation was no better. Orators of Timua and Pule sought to revive their ancient authority. Those of Palauli, one of

the centres of Pule, encouraged (or acquiesced in) the pilfering of European property and a proposal to arrest a visiting official; and they

brought an armed party to Apia, where it feasted and sang antigovernment songs almost in the shadow of the Administrator’s office.2® The Mau hoped, through picketing, largely to prevent the purchase of imported goods by Samoans and, by coupling it with a ban on the making of copra, to reduce drastically the receipts from customs duties. Direct defiance of the government was thus supple-

mented by an attempt to undermine it financially. At the end of March 1928 a New Zealand government statement declared that ‘the Administration is to an appreciable degree ineffective’ .?”

Richardson was no less afraid of the Mau than Nelson and his associates had been, and still were, of the government. Ever since * On the deportation proceedings, see: To the League of Nations, Geneva. The Petition of Olaf Frederick Nelson of Apia, Western Samoa . . . (Sydney, 1928), and annexures thereto; Samoa Times, 20 Jan. 1928; and New Zealand Samoa Guardian,

17 April 1930. Nelson obtained the advice of H. V. Evatt, K.C., of Sydney at this stage. Evatt advised him not to leave Samoa voluntarily but to allow himself to be arrested. In the former circumstance, his deportation would—under the law—be the consequence of an executive act of the Administrator; in the latter, it would have followed a judicial decision. To avoid the risk of violence, Nelson left voluntarily. See Samoa Herald, 5 Jan. 1934; I have also had this story from the late Dr Evatt and from the Nelson family.

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Nosworthy’s visit Mau supporters had shown a tendency to resist the

arrest of any of their number. As nearly all members of the police force were Samoans, who could ill afford to arouse the anger of their matai, the attitude of the Mau had often made it impossible to enforce

the law. Now, in the more disturbed conditions resulting from Nelson’s deportation, Richardson feared a complete breakdown of governmental authority.2® He, therefore, asked the New Zealand government to send two cruisers to Apia.2® When they arrived, he called an emergency meeting of the Legislative Council to pass a bill forbidding the wearing of uniforms or the raising of funds by Samoan political organizations and empowering the Administrator to declare any part of Samoa a ‘disturbed area’, in which meetings or processions could not be held or non-residents remain for more than three hours

without police approval.3° Soon after the bill had become law, a party of sailors and marines from the cruisers was used to arrest some

400 members of the Mau, who were, in due course, sentenced to imprisonment for breaches of its provisions.*! Richardson was shielded from a full knowledge of his unpopularity by his official position, his personal egotism, and the unwillingness of government interpreters to translate remarks that would be displeasing to him.* He wrote that “the Natives have the minds of children’ and, in reference apparently to some of the Mau leaders, that ‘it is impossible

to deal with persons who are so utterly unreasonable, unfair, and * Two versions of a reply by Tamasese, on behalf of the Mau detainees, to an

address by Richardson clearly illustrate the way in which his power of selfdeception was encouraged by inaccurate official translations. Tamasese spoke in Samoan. The Samoa Guardian, 8 March 1928, reported his remarks as follows: It is now five years since you have been with us and the Samoans fully understand and know you well and you know the Samoans. From our point of view you are good in some ways, but on the contrary in other ways. Our reply was placed before you yesterday in which I told you the only key to end this trouble is for you to agree to all our grievances. I now feel that you have agreed to part of our grievances, yet there are still other parts remaining which would complete our satisfaction. I asked you yesterday if you hold the full power, and I again ask you the same question.

Richardson reported Tamasese’s remarks (Administrator to Minister, 28 Feb. 1928—IT 1, 1/23/8) as follows: Your Excellency: It is nearly § years since you came to Samoa. The Samoans know you well and you understand the Samoans and their ways. You have showed us

great help and consideration and what would be good for us. We see that you have opened to us the way for the good of Samoa. We thank your Excellency but what weighs heavily in our minds is the doubt as to whether you have the full power to deal with affairs in Samoa. We know you are trying for the prosperity of Samoa.

The Samoa Guardian report rings true. The version forwarded to Wellington was almost certainly the work of a government interpreter. Suppression and

132 SAMOA MO SAMOA untruthful’.®? But he was confident, none the less, that he could bring the Mau to an end, now that Nelson had left, if only he could talk to

its central committee. The committee was, therefore, repeatedly asked to meet the Fono of Faipule at Mulinu’u; but it refused to do so.

The arrest of the 400 provided him with his first opportunity of exercising his powers of persuasion. But the Mau reduced his efforts to ridicule. Hundreds more members asked to be arrested and had to

be refused, since the government could not handle the numbers. When he met the detainees and offered to pardon them, if they would place their complaints before him, they insisted on being dealt with by the court, before which they declined to plead, in order to demonstrate their rejection of its jurisdiction. After their conviction, he held

further meetings with them, remitted their sentences, as an act of clemency, and offered concessions; but their spokesman, Tupua Tamasese Lealofi, declared that their objective was self-government.* This was the end of Richardson’s administration. He left Samoa in April, on the completion of his term of office. Five years earlier he had been welcomed exuberantly by all sections of the country; when he

departed, the cheering was led by men from the New Zealand warships. His successor, who arrived in May, was Colonel Stephen Shepherd

Allen, a much younger man than Richardson, with a very different background. Allen’s father had been a member of the New Zealand House of Representatives, and he had himself graduated from Cambridge, with some distinction, in both mathematics and law. His embellishment of the kind it contains were not uncharacteristic of the work of these officers. Since Richardson possessed some knowledge of Samoan, and had heard Tamasese speak, his acceptance of it as a true record is a significant indication of the extent to which he had closed his mind to expressions of opinion that ran contrary to his own assumptions. * The Mau adopted the objective of self-government rather gradually. Its initial concern with reform within the framework of political dependency and with the restoration of the traditional order had been modified, in particular, by questions asked during the hearings of the Royal Commission and by a speech in the New Zealand Parliament by Sir Maui Pomare, Minister for the Cook Islands and Member of the Executive Council representing the Native Race (see PD, CCXII (23 June-27 July 1927), 928-30; Samoa Guardian, 25 Aug., 1s Dec. 1927). Tamasese, himself; when asked by the Chairman of the Royal Commission whether self-government was the object of the Mau had replied: *,..1t is the wish of the Mau that Samoa should be controlled by the Samoans... . ... with the condition that Samoa should be under the protection of the British flag...’ (RC, 93). This formulation of the objective, by a young and educated Samoan, was probably somewhat in advance of general opinion within the Mau. But it is unlikely that, even among the more Westernized Mau leaders, there was any clear conception of how a self-governing Samoa would be controlled.

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 133

military rank had been gained in the World War; in civil life he had

been a farmer and lawyer. Whereas Richardson had delighted in speech-making and public occasions, Allen liked to sit at ‘Vailima’ studying Samoa from books and official files. So little did he say in public that he soon became known to the irreverent as ‘Silent Steve’. His principal antagonist, as leader of the Mau, was Tupua Tamasese Lealofi. As became his rank as a tama’diga, Tamasese had at first remained in the background but, when called to the forefront on Nelson’s departure, he had soon shown himself to be capable of strong leader-

ship. Practices that were harmful to the Samoans, such as the ban on the making of copra and the refusal to allow children to attend government schools, were discouraged. The Mau concentrated on building up its own administrative structure, both in the villages and districts and at the centre.** It attempted to exercise many of the functions of government, making regulations, issuing instructions on matters such as the proper care of plantations, and imposing fines on offenders.

It held meetings and processions in ‘disturbed areas’ without police permission, and tax defaulters openly participated in them. It also prepared a petition to the League of Nations setting out Samoan grievances, to which were appended the names of nearly 8,000 Samoan men of tax-paying age, out of a total in the country of just over 9,300.* These figures suggest that the Mau had the support, at this time, of about eighty-five per cent. of the Samoans. But any such assessment, in

quantitative terms, requires interpretation in relation to the circumstances of Samoan life. The Mau represented, in part, a reassertion of Samoan traditionalism. Among its leaders were orators of importance in the structure of Tiimua and Pule, who had used their influence in the same manner as their predecessors had done. At the village level, and to a lesser extent at that of the district, the convention by which a minority withdrew its opposition to the decision of the stronger party still survived. The taulele’a were committed by the attitude of their matai. Large groups were thus brought into the Mau by the actions of a much smaller number of men of influence. On the other hand, some dissident groups and many holders of government office adhered to * The number of Samoan taxpayers in 1927-8 was officially estimated at 9,325; the number of names on the petition was 7,982 (New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 27 June 1929). These names were all, nominally, signatures. It is doubtful whether, in fact, they were so, since, in custom, a matai would consider himself justified in acting for the taulele’a of his family and the holder of a minor matai title would be inclined to accept a commitment made on his behalf by the holder of a more senior title.

134 SAMOA MO SAMOA the anti-Mau minority for reasons unrelated to opinion about the current political situation. The strength of the Mau lay in the fact that it was the effectively dominant faction in the country, not in a counting of heads.

Allen’s method of dealing with the situation was an unemphatic one, ‘a policy of silence and hidden movements’.*4 He believed that the Mau would gradually decline in vigour and that this decline could be assisted and, eventually, completed by firm police action. A meeting, which he arranged after several months of effort, with Tamasese and

Tuimaleali’ifano (who had recently joined the Mau and been dismissed as a Fautua) produced no results. But the resignation from the

Mau of Afamasaga Lagolago and another Samoan member of the Citizens’ Committee, when it became known that the Permanent Mandates Commission had accepted New Zealand’s analysis of the

situation, was taken as evidence that the movement was losing support.2> At the time of Allen’s appointment, a party of military police had been sent from New Zealand. Its members were used to arrest tax defaulters and other political offenders; but, with disaffection so widespread, it was thought wise to take action only against promin-

ent men and those involved in particularly blatant instances of disregard of the law. It was not easy to make arrests, however, even on this limited scale. Wanted men fled to the bush or were concealed by friends. On two occasions there were violent clashes between the police and members of the Mau. The second of these, in November, occurred during the arrest of Tamasese, who was subsequently convicted for non-payment of tax and for resisting the police and sent to New Zealand for imprisonment.®® At the end of 1928 the position was one of stalemate. Allen did not wish to take more drastic action; and the leaders of the Mau were both opposed to violence and hopeful that Nelson would be able to secure a change in New Zealand policy. In May 1928 the Mau had appointed Nelson as its representative

overseas. He had gone to Geneva to support its petition and one presented in his own name. But the Mandates Commission had not been able, under its rules of procedure, to permit him to appear before

it; and, when he learnt of its conclusions, he decided that he must seek his objective elsewhere.3’? On his return to New Zealand he renewed a campaign to publicize the Mau case that he and his fellow exiles had begun immediately after their deportation. In May 1929 a weekly paper, the New Zealand Samoa Guardian, was started, with Nelson as its guiding force and most important contributor, and with

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Gurr as its first editor. A New Zealand Samoan Defence League was

formed. The support of the Labour Party, which had always been sympathetic, was carefully cultivated. As New Zealand newspapers reported these activities and the news from Samoa, and supported or opposed the policy of the government, the Samoan problem was kept before the public. Early in 1929 further publicity had been gained through the govern-

ment’s publication of extracts from a report on the ‘finances and staff’ of the Samoan administration by three senior New Zealand public servants, including the Secretary of External Affairs, C. A. Berendsen, who was, of course, responsible for the conduct of administrative relations with Samoa.®® The stringency of many of the criticisms and the fact that parts of the report had been withheld were widely taken—in New Zealand and overseas, as well as in Samoa—

as confirmation of the charge of governmental extravagance. The report did, indeed, reveal both extravagance and serious defects in administrative procedures. On the other hand, as two former Ministers of External Affairs pointed out, its authors were themselves susceptible

to even more serious criticism for their failure to understand the peculiar circumstances of colonial administration.* And in this fact lay its more lasting significance. The government’s acceptance of its major recommendations involved a reduction both in the authority of the Administrator and in the scale of administrative services. The preconceptions of its authors showed that the impetus towards a more imaginative policy in Samoa was unlikely to come from officers of the New Zealand public service. But these were conclusions that the Samoans were to reach only through long experience.

The Mau hoped that this mounting body of criticism of New Zealand policy and practice would result in acceptance of its demands.

Towards the end of 1928 the Reform Party government of J. G. Coates had been defeated in a general election; and the United Party, led by Sir Joseph Ward, had taken office, with the support of Labour. The publication, even in an attenuated form, of the report on finances and staff had been taken as a sign that the new government was more

open-minded than its predecessor had been. And shortly after its release a number of changes were, in fact, announced. Both the Fono of Faipule and the district councils were suspended. The Legislative Council was reconstituted, with the reduction from three to two in * Sir Francis Bell and Sir James Allen. See PD, CCXXII (7 Aug.-20 Sept. 1929), $85-601, 769-80.

136 SAMOA MO SAMOA the number of European elected members and the addition of two Samoan nominated members. The personal tax, into which the medical

tax had been incorporated, and the copra purchasing scheme were suspended. And the military police force was transformed into a civil constabulary considerably smaller in size.3® These changes went

some way towards meeting current criticisms. But the manner in which several of them were implemented clearly indicated the government ’s intention to retain firm control. The Samoans nominated to the Legislative Council were the two Fautua, Malietoa Tanumafili and Mata’afa Salanoa. The latter had formerly been a Faipule and had been appointed a Fautua after Tuimaleali’ifano’s dismissal. Both were

firm supporters of the government. Many of the former functions of the Faipule and district councils were transferred to European district officers; and members of the constabulary were appointed to these positions. In these circumstances, the Mau maintained its policy of civil disobedience.

The most important effect, in the short run, of activity in New Zealand in support of the Mau was of a different order. Like many mass movements in colonial territories, the Mau was acutely sensitive to messages enjoining action or predicting the triumph of its cause.* In this case, these were not, as in the ‘cargo cults’ of Melanesia, the purported injunctions and prophecies of a supernatural being but the

writings and oral statements of Nelson and his associates. Their significance was not, however, very dissimilar. Before Nelson left Samoa, he had told the Mau: If you keep patient and steadfast to the ‘Mau’ I shall return with the victory—that will be Samoa’s victory for all time. If the ‘Mau’ finishes, we shall not meet again. I shall die abroad.*°

After his deportation he wrote regularly to the Mau; and travellers returning from New Zealand brought further news of his work and opinions. After May 1929 the New Zealand Samoa Guardian, which circulated widely in the territory, provided a steady flow of information, comment, and propaganda. Nelson himself was often concerned with exercising a moderating influence upon the Mau, urging it, for

example, not to impose harsh laws or heavy taxes, or to continue

cutting copra and to maintain the registration of births and deaths; but he was also intent upon strengthening its sense of purpose.‘ * These messages had first been important during Meredith’s and Nelson’s visits to New Zealand in 1927. See: Administrator to Minister, 2 Feb. 1927— IT 1, 1/23/8; and Richardson to Nosworthy, 26 July 1927—IT 1, 1/33/t.

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Predictions of the likely accession to office of the Labour Party, or of other changes favourable to the acceptance of Samoan demands, were constantly being received and acted like a stimulant upon the Mau, reviving its flagging energies and its confidence in ultimate victory.

During most of 1929 Allen believed that the Mau was ‘slowly dying’.42 When he went on malaga he found himself received with a courtesy that had not been shown either to Richardson or him since the movement had begun. But beneath the surface there was a rising tension. The Mau was encouraged by the work being done in New

Zealand, disturbed by the defection of a number of prominent members, such as Afamasaga, and both angered and frightened by the insensitive behaviour of the constabulary. In April between four and five hundred Mau supporters marched through Apia chanting: Samoa! Samoa! the Military Police are coming, The Military Police are coming to have war with us, We are frightened, we are frightened, O Samoa, Samoa!*

Members of the constabulary reacted, in turn, to the people’s dislike of them, developed a contempt for everything Samoan and a fear of the consequences of violence. In June, after several instances of resistance

to arrest, the Inspector of Police instructed his men to carry revolvers. Allen disapproved of this instruction, but he decided not to countermand it for the time being.“

Between June and December the Mau held a number of demonstrations in Apia. In June the return of Tamasese, on his release from prison, was made an occasion for mass celebration. And in November, When Tuinialeali’ifano and Faumuina returned from a visit to New Zealand with encouraging reports of support for the Mau, activity was intensified. At the end of the year Smyth was expected back in Samoa, on the completion of his two years in exile. Police permission was

obtained for a procession to meet him as he came ashore. It was followed, however, by an indirect warning that men wanted by the police for non-payment of taxes or other offences would be arrested if they took part in it. But the Mau decided to ignore this warning, both because of its generality and the informal manner of its presentation and because such men—who included some of its principal officers —had participated in previous processions with impunity.

Shortly after dawn on Saturday 28 December—the Christmas season, when political tensions were generally relaxed—the procession

set out and reached Central Office where it was to salute the Union

138 SAMOA MO SAMOA Jack before welcoming Smyth at the wharf. At this point the police acted: an attempt was made to arrest the Mau secretary, Mata’utia Karauna. His immediate companions sought to protect him; and, in the general scuffle that ensued, a European policeman fell to the ground.

Members of the arresting party—armed with revolvers, as a result of

Allen’s indecision—then opened fire on the procession. Within minutes they were supported by machine-gun fire from the near-by police station. A number of Samoans (and one European policeman) were killed; and more Samoans were seriously injured. Among the latter were Tamasese, Tuimaleali’ifano, and Faumuin4, the three chiefs of highest rank in the Mau and its acknowledged leaders. They were dressed differently from the rank and file, and as they were shot they

were appealing for the restoration of order. The Samoans had no doubt that the attack had been planned and that their leaders had been deliberately fired upon.*®

Eleven Samoans, nearly all holding important matai titles, died during the shooting or as a result of the injuries they received. Tamasese

was among those whose injuries proved fatal. As he lay dying he issued a statement to his followers: My blood has been spilt for Samoa. I am proud to give it. Do not dream of avenging it, as it was spilt in maintaining peace. If I die, peace must be maintained at any price.*6

In life he had been an able and respected leader; in death, and through the demeanour of his final hours, he became a hero and a martyr. On each anniversary of “Black Saturday’, as 28 December 1929 became

known, members of the Mau met at his grave, in prayer and in commemoration of his sacrifice. His death, and that of the ten others,

added a new note of bitterness to the attitude of the Mau towards New Zealand rule and finally confirmed its dedication to the object of full self-government. Several years later Nelson described “Black

Saturday’ as ‘the culminating point of the Mau troubles’. All the other grievences he hoped would be forgotten ‘in a happier time to come ; but it was the one event that ‘will never be forgotten’.*” The impact of the tragedy was accentuated by the attitude of the Administration and the New Zealand government during the following weeks. It was blamed wholly on the Mau; the use of force by the police was seen as the almost inevitable consequence of the organization’s defiance of the law. Allen had believed for some months that the

time had come to destroy the Mau. Till now the New Zealand government had been unwilling to acquiesce in his plans; but, faced

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with a critical situation, it pledged itself to maintain law and order ‘by whatever means might be found necessary’. It empowered the Administrator to declare the Mau a seditious organization (which he immediately did) and despatched a cruiser to Samoa. Faced with these threats, the men of the Mau fled in their thousands to the bush, as their

ancestors had done when defeated in war. Temporary police posts were set up in various parts of the country; and for many weeks parties of civil police and men from the cruiser scoured the villages and the bush, while an aeroplane flew overhead attempting to locate Mau parties in their mountain fastnesses. In February, because of the difficulty of finding men who were hiding in the tropical rain forest, rigid restrictions were placed on travel, with the primary intention of cutting off their supplies of food.48

Not only the men themselves but also the women and children suffered at the hands of the police and naval parties, as the latter ransacked the villages by night looking for men who might have temporarily returned. Officials swore that these searches were conducted with propriety and without violence. But, in fact, it was impossible for men who spoke of the Samoans as ‘bloody niggers’ or ‘black bastards’, and who were themselves regarded by the Samoans as possessing ‘no breeding’, to be let loose in a village without suffering

being inflicted.49 A member of the police party that had arrested Tamasese in 1928 had artlessly described the scene after they had entered his fale in the early hours of the morning; and, with equal artlessness, pro-government papers in both New Zealand and Samoa had printed it. He [Tamasese] was yelling, ‘I won’t come, shoot me; kill me,’ and so just to please him, I fired a ‘blank’ at his stomach at three yards range. He doubled up saying ‘I’m shot, I’m killed’. A Mau came rushing up at the same time and rushed me, but I dropped him with a butt stroke. ... His wife gave some trouble, and a number of our fellows were hit by stones. . . .°7

Now, when the situation was far tenser, such callousness became commonplace. At the Mau centres of Vaimoso and Lepea the sounds of furniture being smashed and of children crying not infrequently disturbed the nocturnal silence. Even the fale of Tamasese’s widow was

entered by armed men. Mourning her husband’s fate, she thought that she and her children were also to be shot. To the Samoans, this seemed a form of brutality peculiar to New Zealanders; in their own custom, it was said, non-combatants had been left in peace. When the

140 SAMOA MO SAMOA Minister of Defence, the Honourable J. G. Cobbe, visited Samoa in February and March and praised New Zealand’s policies, Tuimalealiifano—whose memory went back to the 1850s—replied: “You said that the Government of New Zealand is very kind; I have seen myself and I have experience of it. It is not... . Be truthful. Why are you telling lies?’®

This visit by a member of Cabinet represented a new attempt by New Zealand to reach a settlement. On his arrival in Apia Cobbe privately contacted Mau leaders, with the help of local Europeans and

the missions. He was disturbed by the attitude of Allen, who was determined to crush the Mau, if necessary by force, and anxious to bankrupt Nelson by means of harsh taxation. He arranged for the granting of an amnesty, so that Mau representatives could hold formal discussions with him and with the Administrator; and he proposed a

moderation of existing conditions for a settlement. But to the latter Allen would not agree.*? At the opening meeting with the Mau, therefore, three demands were made: that the Mau should be dissolved; that persons wanted by the police should be surrendered; and that the

Samoans should agree to meet the Administrator for discussion whenever he required it. The spokesman for the Mau at these meetings

was Faumuina, who had succeeded Tamasese in the leadership. Faumuina was a reluctant politician, a man motivated by a sense of public obligation, as the holder of a high title, and by personal ambition, rather than by commitment to a policy. But these qualities made him peculiarly sensitive to the conventional restraints upon Samoan leadership. ‘I am the leader of the Mau in accordance with the wish of the Samoans’, he told Cobbe, “but I am like a gramophone.

When they wind up the gramophone, so it will speak.’ After each

meeting, he consulted the Mau; and the more determined of its leaders took pains to ensure that no concessions were made that could endanger the attainment of its ultimate objectives.** It was agreed that those wanted by the police should surrender themselves; but on the other matters the Mau was adamant. ‘Samoa is the Mau’, Faumuin4a

said, and, therefore, it could not attend meetings to which the Administrator had also asked supporters of the government. And the Mau itself would not be dissolved till its task was completed.*4 These discussions, though they had been only partially successful, made possible some mitigation of the crisis. The cruiser and its party

of marines returned to New Zealand, and members of the Mau returned to their villages. Complainants and witnesses before the

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 I4I

courts were no longer subjected to fines and intimidation by the Mau. In accordance with an undertaking given during the discussions, the Administrator invited the districts to nominate representatives to a special fono at Mulinu’u; and, though the Mau boycotted the proposal, it was officially estimated that about a third of the matai supported the nominations. On the advice of this fono, it was decided to reinstate the Fono of Faipule and to provide that, in future, members should be appointed on the basis of written nominations by the matai of their respective constituencies.

‘For the time’, Allen wrote shortly after Cobbe’s departure, “the Mau is quite broken.’5> Like nearly all New Zealand officials, he failed to understand some of the most important characteristics of Samoan political behaviour: the difference between status and influence; the pressure, in periods of tension, for outward conformity; the unifying effect of corporate action. The loyalty to the administration of Malietoa Tanumafili had not prevented a substantial section of his ’diga from supporting the Mau. The defection of Afamasaga Lagolago had not changed the allegiance of many of those who had formerly accepted his leadership. Districts in which some of the more prominent men had left the Mau had simply appointed new representatives. Defections had, indeed, consolidated the movement, since,

in a situation in which support for compromise was a cause for suspicion, members took particular care to demonstrate their conformity. The agreement to surrender wanted men provided a new opportunity

for action. Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole, the younger brother and successor of Lealofi, wrote to Nelson of their efforts to augment the meagre prison diet: There is hardly a taxi left because they are all being used to take visitors to the gaol. The visitors bring their presents of food, pork, kegs of beef, and various tinned stuffs. There is enough to last from one Sunday to another.*6

The return of the Mau leaders to the villages strengthened the movement’s organization at the local level. The new Fono of Faipule, in whose election the Mau refused to participate, became an object of derision and grievance, since its members were representative only of

a minority of the miatai.* It was referred to as the “Phono of Phipoodles’.5? The Mau was non-violent, generally unobstructive; but * The Faipule were appointed for one year only on this occasion, in the hope that the Mau would agree to participate by the following year. This hope was not realized; and those who were nominated for a three-year term in 1931 (and similarly in 1934) remained the representatives of a minority.

I42 SAMOA MO SAMOA it was not ‘broken’, as Allen believed. It possessed an organization and

a sense of purpose that would enable it to take action against the government at the appropriate time. In April 1931 Allen completed his term as Administrator. His standing with the Samoans had been irreparably damaged by the events of ‘Black Saturday’ and the following weeks. In New Zealand Cobbe had said publicly that he had “differed very decidely’ from him and that the territory needed ‘a civil ruler’.5® But the government chose, as his successor, a man with qualifications strikingly similar to his own: Brigadier-General Herbert Ernest Hart, a country solicitor who had gained his military rank in the World War. Hart was mildmannered, frank and direct of speech; but he was given little opportunity of exercising any capacity for constructive political action that

he may have possessed. From its experience with Richardson and Allen, and from the recommendations in the report on finances and staff, the New Zealand government seems to have reached the conclusion that future Administrators should be firmly controlled from Wellington. And this control was of an almost wholly negative kind.

Economically, Samoa was now little affected by Mau activities. Indeed, the Mau itself had taken over some of the supervisory work formerly carried out by government officers. Copra exports for 1930-2 averaged 11,300 tons, as compared with 13,350 tons in 1924-6, the last years in which political conditions had been normal; but the fall in production seems to have been mainly the result of the catastrophic collapse of world prices. Banana exports, which had been about to begin when the Mau was formed, developed fairly satisfactorily. The country was, however, very hard hit by the depression. In 1927-9 export earnings had averaged £351,000; in 1932 they were £'183,000, in 1933 £171,000, and in 1934 only £128,000. European planters and the trading firms were more drastically affected by this decline in income than were the Samoan villagers, owing to the more complete dependence of the former on a money economy. The political effect of the depression, therefore, seems to have been negligible. After the departure of the marines, relations between the police

and the Mau had remained strained. Men were arrested and imprisoned for attending Mau meetings or appearing in Mau uniforms.

Action was taken against the leaders of an organization of Mau women for holding illegal processions and meetings in the Apia area. And the police were active in the villages shooting unlicensed dogs

and straying pigs. But both sides tried to avoid violence, with the

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 143

government hoping gradually to regain the support of the people by peaceful means and the Mau for action overseas that would lead to self-government. Shortly before Tamasese Lealofi’s death the Mau had petitioned King George V; and in 1931 it petitioned the govern-

ments of Britain, the United States and Germany, on the basis of Samoa’s treaty relations with those countries in the nineteenth century. In New Zealand Mau supporters and sympathizers prepared petitions to Parliament and to the League of Nations.5® The Mau never com-

pletely lost hope that some good would come of these petitions. But, as time went on, it became convinced of the need for an intensification of local action and saw the prospective return of Nelson as the most propitious moment for it to begin. On 16 May 1933 Nelson landed again at Apia. This was recognized

on all sides as being a moment of crisis. Hart had wanted Nelson detained in New Zealand. ‘Each village’, he had written, °. . . is like a

smouldering fire, requiring very little to stir it into a substantial blaze.’* The Mau had advised Nelson to delay his return for some months after his period of deportation had ended, since it could obtain no guarantee that the police would not act again as they had done on ‘Black Saturday’.®° Nelson himself, when he finally stepped ashore,

looked apprehensive, despite the cheering of the crowd and his knowledge that a great ceremonial welcome had been arranged for him.*! There was a general fear that some ill-considered act might lead to violence.

The Mau suggested to Hart that it should meet him to discuss conditions for a settlement. He accepted this proposal, in principle, but soon raised difficulties regarding the detailed arrangements for the meeting. Most importantly, he declined to accept Nelson as one of the Mau representatives. In the official view, Nelson was ineligible, since it was still an objective of policy to exclude Europeans from participation in Samoan affairs. In the opinion of the Mau, on the * Administrator to Minister, 26 July 1932—AO, 25/1. Shortly after expressing this gloomy opinion, Hart was reported as having spoken to the press in very different terms: “You can say that all is well in Samoa, and that conditions generally are very satisfactory’ (New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 27 Oct. 1932). At about the same time, the Prime Minister and Minister of External Affairs, the Right Honourable G. W. Forbes, said: “Things in Samoa are

going ahead smoothly; they have never been better’ (ibid.). There is ample evidence that Forbes had remarkably little understanding of the Samoan situation; his statement was, perhaps, not disingenuous. Hart’s statement, on the other hand, reflected a desire—common in official circles since 1927—to deny the importance of the Mau. Bureaucrats could do no wrong.

144 SAMOA MO SAMOA other hand, his presence at the meeting was essential, since he alone possessed the knowledge, experience and resolution that would be required for the effective presentation of its case. Moreover, since he held the title of Taisi, was learned in custom, and had suffered persecution and exile in the service of the country, the Mau accepted his identification with Samoan society. Though Nelson urged the Mau to go ahead without him, it declined to do so; and, as further requests for his acceptance were met by an increasingly firm refusal even to

discuss the issue, it reached the conclusion that Hart was tied by Wellington, where government opinion seemed to be as intransigent as it had been in Nosworthy’s time.® It, therefore, prepared to pursue its objective of self-government by other means. In an independent country the bond linking state and society comes to be accepted as an indissoluble one. Even those bent on revolution generally intend no more than the replacement of an existing constitution and present rulers by others. In a colony, on the other hand, the machinery of the state tends to be seen rather as an organization superimposed on society by the action of an alien Power. In Samoa, where the traditional political structure had proved so resistant to the forces making for change or disintegration, this point of view had always been held with particular firmness. It had lain behind the action of Lauaki in 1904-5, when he had tried to re-establish the Ta’imua and Faipule as an autonomous government. It lay, now, behind a decision by the Mau to ignore the existing government and create its own.

For three years—between Cobbe’s visit and Nelson’s return— the Mau had been most active at the village level, though there had been district meetings from time to time and occasional meetings of the central organization. At this stage, however, Mau representatives remained in continuous session at Vaimoso. Their original purpose had been that of briefing their spokesmen during discussions with the Administrator. On 18 August, however, after a final meeting between Hart and Faumuina, they concluded that these discussions could not take place and that it was not unlikely that the government would again attempt to suppress the Mau by force. In these circumstances,

they accepted a proposal by Tupua Tamasese Mea ole that they should devote themselves to strengthening the movement's administrative organization and transforming it into an autonomous government. ®

In addition to its inherent difficulties (and political unreality), this

project had to contend with divisions of opinion within the Mau

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itself. ‘Moderates’, like Faumuin4, regarded it with fear and distaste. ‘Progressives , like Tamasese, viewed with anxiety the determination of men such as Autagavai’a Siaupiu, the dominant orator and political leader of Palauli, to use it for the revival of the power of Tiimua and Pule. The formulation of an acceptable scheme required a combination of knowledge, sensitivity to divergent opinion, and a flair for devising

the workable compromise. Nelson did not normally attend the meetings at Vaimoso. But he worked constantly on the Mau’s behalf,

preparing plans for the future government, handling day-to-day administrative business, and advising officers of the movement, who

kept in regular contact with him. The constitution that was agreed on was based on the existing organization of the Mau. The central government was to be headed by a fa’atonu (adviser or instructor; a position to be held by Nelson), a President (Faumuina), and a committee composed of the representatives of the four principal centres of the Mau.* The two tama’ diga who were in the Mau, Tuimaleali’ifano

and Tupua Tamasese, were to be associated with these officers on the basis of their eminent positions in the traditional political structure. The senior officers were to be responsible to an assembly of district representatives. This central organization, as a whole, was to possess

legislative powers and the power to confirm or annul executive appointments made at the district or village levels. Provision was made for the establishment of a secretariat, the appointment of judges,

and the levying of taxes to support the central organization and its district and village officials. But it was also provided that the Mau should not interfere with the operation of custom or with the performance by the New Zealand administration of its existing functions. When the constitution was agreed to, early in November, two malaga

parties headed by leading committee members were appointed to visit the villages in Upolu and Savai’i, respectively. Their tasks were those of explaining the decisions reached at Vaimoso, of establishing the new district and village organization, and of collecting taxes.®

On the day that the malaga parties left Vaimoso, Nelson wrote that “New Zealand will wake up one day to find that by [the] peaceful

penetration of the Mau .. . the Samoans will have wrested the last vestige of control . . . from the Mandatory Government’.** But, in * These officials were known as ‘the Representatives of the Four Seats’, which were Lepea, Vaimoso, Apia and Matautuuta, four villages in, or near, the town of Apia. The representatives, who had been changed from time to time, were not usually men belonging to any of these villages but influential matai who devoted most, or all, of their time to the work of the Mau.

146 SAMOA MO SAMOA fact, the Samoan administration woke up far more quickly. In Samoa

pride is easily injured, jealousy easily aroused, and the quest for personal status not infrequently takes precedence over loyalty to corporate interest. From the beginning there had always been men holding high office in the Mau who were willing to inform the administration of its proceedings.* On this occasion there had been a bitter dispute over the composition of the malaga parties. The government was secretly informed of their plans. Incriminating documents were found in the possession of both parties and in Nelson’s house; and the members of the two parties and Nelson himself were arrested. Subsequently, fourteen members of the malaga parties were sentenced to terms of imprisonment of up to a year and Nelson to eight months’ imprisonment and ten years’ exile. In court the accused had not disavowed their actions or political

beliefs. One of them, when told by the judge that there was no evidence of his attendance at a particular Mau function, insisted that he had been present. Others affirmed their pride in being brought before

the court for the offences with which they were charged and insisted that their opinions had not changed.®* And a little earlier Nelson had written: °... I should feel honoured to be worthy of being called “New

Zealand’s greatest foe’ .. .’.f The Mau’s attempt to form its own government had been frustrated; but, since the more effective of its leaders remained unsubdued in spirit and the mass of its supporters remained sullenly discontented, the administration could still not govern to much purpose. Neither party, therefore, could resolve the political crisis that had existed for more than seven years. A dramatic change in New Zealand policy and the appointment to the territory of senior officers capable of working closely and sympathetically with the Samoans were the necessary conditions for a breaking of the deadlock.

THE first of these conditions was satisfied by the victory of the Labour

Party in the New Zealand general election in 1935. New Zealand governments had always been responsible for the * Most of this information was collected by the Inspector of Police, A. L. Braisby, who incorporated it in frequent reports to the Administrator. Generally, the members of the Mau concerned called on Braisby; occasionally, they presented him with a written record of meetings. + Quoted in Samoa Herald, 22 Dec. 1933. Nelson had been described as ‘New Zealand’s greatest foe’ by an American journalist (New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 20 Oct. 1933).

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 147

administrative control of Polynesians; and during the later nineteenth century, when they had urged Britain to acquire Samoa on their behalf, they had boasted of their special talent for its exercise. As far back as the

1850s and 1860s they had encountered a problem very similar to that which had been faced in Samoa since 1927. Like the Mau, the King Movement in the Waikato had derived from the pressures of Western ideology and action upon a Polynesian society, had developed a form of organization that drew upon both indigenous tradition and know-

ledge of the Western world, and had adopted as its objective the attainment of political autonomy. Much that was said by its leaders, or noted by contemporary observers, could have served as a source of enlightenment to New Zealand Ministers seventy years later, had they chosen to examine the records and possessed the capacity to draw the

necessary parallels. Many of the observations of John Gorst, for example, in reporting to the government in 1862, were almost equally

applicable to the Samoan situation.* “The Maori King’, he wrote, ‘is kept up by a feeling of distrust and opposition to the English Government; but it is the existence of this distrust, not its manifestation in the form of the Maori King, that is dangerous.’ And again: “To attempt to restore peace and fellowship to the two races by

putting down the King by force, would be as absurd as the conduct of the captain who broke his weather-glass that he might escape the storm. Had Nosworthy and his successors learnt these lessons they would not have hoped to destroy the Mau by exiling Nelson. Similarly, if they had understood his remark that Maori chiefs ‘are the executors of the will of the people, and not its guides’, they might have been less

irritated by the insistence of the Mau leaders on the need for consultation with their followers before entering into commitments with

the government. Or, yet again, they could well have pondered the words of Wiremu Tamihana, the eminent chief behind the King Movement: ‘TI like your laws, it is your men that I do not like’.6 If they had done so, they might have realized that the effect of even the most immaculate of policies could be negated by entrusting its administration to brash and uncouth expatriate officials. But politicians,

though they often appeal to precedent, seldom learn from history. And, in this case, the subsequent course of relations with the Maori * John Eldon Gorst, who had formerly been a Fellow of St John’s College, Cambridge, and later became a leading figure in British politics, served the New Zealand government in the Waikato between 1861 and 1863. In 1864 he published The Maori King, of which a new edition, edited by Keith Sinclair, was produced in 1959.

148 SAMOA MO SAMOA people probably made it inevitable that New Zealand governments would ignore the lessons of the Maori Wars. In this respect, the Labour

government was no more sophisticated than its predecessors. But its policy towards Samoa was more enlightened because of the radical

streak in its members’ thinking about colonies, of their general sympathy with the oppressed, and of the fact that they had been in Opposition when wrong decisions had been made. Soon after taking office the new Prime Minister, the Right Honour-

able Michael Joseph Savage, made a brief statement on Samoa, emphasizing his government’s desire to work in co-operation with the Samoan people. Later, he had talks with Nelson and assured him that

his exile would be ended. And in June 1936 a ‘goodwill mission’ consisting of the Honourable Frank Langstone, the Minister of Lands, and James O’Brien, a Labour back-bencher, visited Samoa to discuss

necessary changes. The mission’s arrival marked a dramatic transformation of the political atmosphere. Its members were greeted, as they stepped ashore, both by Malietoa and the Faipule and by the leaders of the Mau. As they entered the town, in a procession headed by the Mau band, Apia’s main street was lined by thousands of people

in Mau uniform holding aloft Mau flags. Next day, at Vaimoso, during a ceremonial welcome, Langstone announced that the government intended to repeal immediately the proclamation declaring the Mau a seditious organization.

Careful preparations had been made for the mission’s visit. On Nelson’s instructions, the Mau leaders had met the Faipule; the Europeans had, in the usual way, held a public meeting to discuss their

demands; and a group of part-Samoans had formed, with a shrewd appreciation of political realities, a Labour Party of Western Samoa.* * The objects of the Labour Party were set out in “A. Stowers Vui [Amando Stowers, a holder of the title Vui], President Labour Party W.S.’ to editor, 15 July 1936 (Western Samoa Mail, 17 July 1936), as follows: 1. To endeavour to obtain better living condition [sic] for all local born settlers of Samoa, and in order to obtain that, we wish to co operate with the Administration to find out and to elerminate [sic] the Parasites. 2. To protect and to assist the ignorant. 3. To co operate with other organisation [sic] especially with the Government, find ways and means to provide work and best of all to find land to settle the vast and quickly increased local born population. 4. As a means to bring together all section [sic] of the local born population in a united body. 5. To endeavour to preserve Samoa for the Samoans etc.

Stowers, like many others in the Labour Party, had been strongly sympathetic towards the Mau (see his letter, signed ‘Vui Tafilipepe Amato’, in the Samoa Guardian, 9 June 1927).

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During the month that Langstone and O’Brien spent in Samoa, they were presented with the results of this preliminary work and discussed the various proposals for reform with innumerable people. For the first time, the relationship between a New Zealand Minister and the people of Samoa was untainted by the pretensions of paternalism.

Shortly before the mission’s departure, the Samoans staged a welcome even more exuberant than that which had marked its arrival.

Nelson was returning home. A fleet of long-boats, one of them carrying a brass band, surrounded his ship as it entered the harbour. A canoe, ‘fashioned in the style of the old time double canoes’ and surmounted by a leafy bower, had been prepared for the occasion; and in this Nelson came ashore, in the company of a taupou (ceremonial virgin) and Langstone and O’Brien. He was received everywhere as a hero—not only by the Samoans but also by government officials who had till recently cast him in the role of leading villain. On the day after Nelson’s return, the mission went again to Vaimoso,

and Langstone announced the government's proposals. He listed a number of matters on which action had already been, or would shortly be, taken. These included the repeal of the Samoan Offenders Ordinance, which authorized banishment and deprivation of titles, and of the dormant ordinances providing for the levying of personal tax and medical tax. Payments still due in respect of these taxes from

the period before they had been suspended were to be written off. In addition, he presented a number of proposals for consideration. The most important of these were: an increase in the number of Samoan members of the Legislative Council from two to four; the establishment of a Finance Committee, independent of the council, to examine the estimates; the selection of a new Fono of Faipule; and the appointment of a Samoan associate judge to sit in the High Court during the hearing of cases involving Samoans. An assurance was given of increased opportunities for local people—both Samoan and European—in the public service; and, in separate discussions with the Europeans, support had been expressed for a land settlement scheme for young part-Samoans. Although this programme fell far short of the Mau’s ultimate objective of self-government, it won acceptance both as a sign of New Zealand goodwill and as a remedy for the most important of present grievances. ®

Politically, the Mau was triumphant. Tuimalealiifano had again been appointed a Fautua, to fill a vacancy created by the death of Mata’afa Salanoa; and Faumuin3a, the President of the Mau, was soon F

I§0 SAMOA MO SAMOA to receive a government appointment, as Supervisor of Native Police.

More importantly, the Mau was consulted regarding the future number and boundaries of Faipule constituencies, with the result that

its members won thirty-three of the thirty-nine seats in the new Fono.* And the functions of the Fono were in future to include that of nominating the Samoan members of the Legislative Council. In the opinion of a politically active part-Samoan, the government was ‘now referring everything to the Mau’.®® The new balance of power and status was reflected in the garden party attended by over 500 people

that Nelson gave to mark the first anniversary of his return from exile. As the Acting Administrator and the Chief Judge, an Italian countess and the wife of an Auckland knight joined the leaders of the Mau in the grounds of “Tuaefu’, Nosworthy’s remark of ten years

before about ‘aping the Governor’ must have seemed out-dated. ‘The Governor’ had ceased even to compete.

Yet, in relation to political advancement or to the establishment of lasting harmony, the change was a superficial one, the Labour Party's achievement essentially negative. Unpopular laws had been repealed and unpopular policies abandoned. But no real basis had been laid for the attainment of the Mau’s objective of “Samoa mo Samoa’. When Savage had made his initial statement, he had said that a new

Administrator would soon be appointed who would convince the Samoans of his government's goodwill. On Hart’s departure in 1935,

Alfred Clarke Turnbull, the Secretary to the Administration, had become Acting Administrator. In the event, he continued in this capacity till 1943, when he himself was appointed Administrator. During the visit of the “goodwill mission’, the Mau had asked for the removal of a number of senior officials, on the ground that they were not the men to implement policies so different from those with which they had previously been associated, but no action was taken. And in * The new Fono of Faipule was appointed on the basis of nominations received from the constituencies, in a manner similar to that adopted in 1931 and 1934. This procedure was later formalized. The Samoa Amendment Act, 1938, provided that the Administrator should “by Warrant ... confirm the appointment as Faipules of such Samoans as shall from time to time be elected or chosen in manner to be prescribed by Ordinance’. The Faipule Election Ordinance, 1939, prescribed the submission to the Administrator of a nomination signed

by more than half the matai of the constituency. To reach agreement on the making of such a submission, the matai were left free to adopt any method they thought fit. The Faipule Election Ordinance also increased the number of constituencies from 39 to 4I.

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 $I

Wellington the secretaryship of the Department of External Affairs continued to be held by the officer who had so convincingly demonstrated his lack of understanding of Samoa in 1929 by his signature to the report on finances and staff. One of the necessary conditions of political advancement—the appointment of officers able to work imaginatively and sympathetically with the Samoans—remained un-

fulfilled. ,

Turnbull was a man of the old school, whose sympathies and

antipathies had been formed during the years of non-co-operation. In matters of policy he was indecisive. Not helped by his uncertain tenure as Acting Administrator, he frequently emphasized that he was merely the servant of Wellington, where real power resided. Before his term ended his office had becorme—in the words of a Catholic priest who was his personal friend—‘'despised and ignored’. Between officers of

the administration and the Samoans there was continuing friction, which came to a head, frorn time to time, in some incident that further exacerbated relations. One of those whom the Mau had wished to see removed was the Inspector of Police, who had been in office throughout the years of trouble. In July 1937 his wife held up a solemn pro-

cession commemorating the death of Tupua Tamasese Lealofi III when she drove her car into the middle of the road as it approached. A Samoan stopped the car and slightly damaged it, for which action he was sentenced to imprisonment. The Mau leaders accepted the prison sentence as inevitable, in the circumstances; but the incident itself, the fevered allegations of Samoan lawlessness subsequently made

by many papdlagi, and Turnbull's identification of himself with the papalagi criticisms embittered them.”?° When emotions were aroused, anti-Samoan sentiment seemed to reveal itself as frankly as ever. And

the Samoans, as a consequence, continued to demand retirement of those officials whom they particularly disliked. The position was not helped by the attitude of the European planters and their friends. They bitterly resented the decision, made with the

support of the Faipule, that no more Chinese indentured labourers should be introduced, since they saw in it the prospect of ruin for the cocoa industry. They formed a political party to defend their interests. But their hopes were centred, above all, on the early defeat of the New Zealand Labour government. When that occurred, it was suggested, all the recent changes of policy would be revoked. Even to the poorer part-Samoans—the supporters of the local Labour Party—this possi-

bility was alarming, since they looked to New Zealand Labour for

152 SAMOA MO SAMOA an improvement in employment opportunities: “These damned planters’, wrote one of them, ‘have been running the country long enough ...’.7! But to the Samoans it threatened the loss of everything for which they had struggled over the past ten years. The Mau did not relax its activities after the visit of Langstone and O’Brien. Faumuina had resigned the presidency on his acceptance of government office, and Tupua Tamasese Mea ole had been appointed in his place. When he had been elected to the Tupua Tamasese title in 1930, he had been relatively little known. To European officials he had seemed an unlikely Samoan leader. He was young; most of his life had been spent in and around Apia; and he had earned his living

as an employee of a commercial firm. His marriage in 1934 to a daughter of Nelson seemed, to these critics, to confirm their opinion that he was more at home in the European world than in the Samoan. But he possessed a deep feeling for Samoan custom, an inherited sense of obligation to serve his people that had been intensified by his brother’s tragic death, and a rock-like integrity. Given these qualities, his understanding of European ways of thought and his good knowledge of the English language had proved valuable assets. They had helped him, in particular, to understand the thinking of the official establishment and had made him immune to both its threats and its blandishments.

Behind Tamasese stood the imposing figure of his father-in-law, the trusted adviser and powerful friend of the Mau. Nelson once referred to a journalist’s remark that he suffered from ‘elephantiasis of the ego’.”? Though he had consciously striven for eminence, he was

often perturbed by the importance that was attached to his acts and opinions. In 1930 he had written to the Mau from New Zealand: ‘Do not allow my opinions . . . [to] overweigh your own ideas I only send them for your information .. .’.73 And at one of the functions to welcome him home, he had spoken of his role with notable modesty: ‘T know that many of you who now pay me this great honour would have, if you had found yourself in the same position, done as well if not better, probably not as clumsily or stubbornly but more effectively’.74 Nelson was a complex man. Ifhe possessed a strain of modesty, he also had a love of power. If he had struggled to establish his equality

with the most important Europeans with whom his life had brought him into contact, he also took great pride in his standing in the Samoan

community. Though his formal education had been limited to what Apia schools could provide, he had read widely; and he wrote with

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fluency and force. In 1937 a series of letters signed by Mau leaders appeared in the Western Samoa Mail, mercilessly criticizing the ideas

and attitudes of their papdlagi opponents; each one bore the marks of his style and his knowledge. He was a formidable controversialist; and the leaders of the Mau were happy to accept his aid.* The Mau office at Vaimoso remained in being. Requests or complaints were passed to it by the villages, as a basis for representations to the government or publicity in the press. Governmental activities were sometimes investigated, to the annoyance of public servants, as on

the occasion on which Mau officers posted themselves beside the produce inspector—an expatriate—and his staff to see whether the inspection of bananas for export was being properly conducted. And the office functioned as a secretariat for the Faipule. To maintain it, the Mau continued to impose a tax. This, it was contended, was a voluntary payment, such as those imposed by political parties on their

members in other countries; but, in the circumstances of Samoan village life (as the churches had learnt, to their advantage), a refusal to

pay could be socially damaging. To the leaders of the Mau, the organizational strength that a permanent office gave them was essential

to the defence of Samoan interests against an antagonistic official establishment. The new Fono of Faipule clearly reflected Mau policy and practice.

When it first met, it decided to appoint one of its members as Leader, so that the decisions reached in private discussion could be presented to the Acting Administrator unambiguously by one man. Its first session— in September-November 1936—alarmed both the administration and

the New Zealand government. The Faipule did not conceal their distrust and dislike of many expatriate officials. When they were invited to visit government departments to learn of their work, they acted, instead, like auditors, asking detailed questions about officers’ salaries and duties. In making nominations for government office, they confined themselves to active supporters of the Mau and placed their Own interpretation upon the New Zealand government’s intentions. They proposed that Nelson should be appointed fa’atonu, with the right of attending sessions of the Fono, and that he should be one of the

Samoan representatives on the Legislative Council.” Instead of one * When European residents publicly questioned the authorship of these letters, a statement was issued by Tupua Tamasese, Tuala Tulo and Namulauw’ulu

(M.L.C’s), and Fa’alava’au (Secretary of the Mau), that they represented the views of the signatories and of ‘the large Samoan majority who are loyal to the Labour Government now in power’ (Western Samoa Mail, 9 Oct. 1937).

154 SAMOA MO SAMOA Samoan associate judge to sit in the High Court, they asked for three. They argued with Turnbull about the salaries of all Samoan officials and about the numbers of district and village officials to be appointed.

The adulation of the Administrator, which had characterized the Fono in Richardson’s time, had been replaced by arrogance and a scarcely veiled contempt. On some points the government gave way. Three associate judges

were appointed; and, although the proposals of the Fono regarding district and village officials were not fully accepted, the number of pulenu’u was increased. It had already been decided that the pulenu’y would no longer be regarded as a government agent but as, in Turnbull’s words, ‘the Post Office between the dignity of his village and that of the Government, acting as a channel of common understanding between them’.7° The traditional authority of the ali’i and faipule was

not to be superseded, as had been attempted in Richardson’s time, but to be supported. In 1938 the Secretary of Native Affairs, C. G. R. McKay, prepared detailed proposals for conferring limited legal powers on the ali’i and faipule, to bring their authority, in part, within the formal framework of government; but these proposals foundered in Wellington, mainly on the grounds that they violated the principle

of the separation of powers and would also tend to reinforce the privileges of the matai.””

The Mau blamed Turnbull and his officers for its failure to win New Zealand acceptance of its policy wherever disagreement still remained. It was convinced that its views were misrepresented, and that disingenuous objections to them were made, in official correspondence. For this reason, a delegation headed by Nelson and Tamasese

—and financed by the Mau—visited Wellington early in 1938 for direct discussions with the government. On some matters, including the early repeal of restrictive and discriminatory legislation that was still on the statute book, firm assurances were obtained. But the delegation seems to have been impressed most of all by the friendliness of the Prime Minister and his colleagues. As Savage—a master of the soothing phrase—publicly stated, there was little difference between its views and those of his government.”®

The Mau, as a consequence, abandoned several of its demands. The New Zealand government had declined to create the post of fa atonu for Nelson; and it had instructed Turnbull not to accept his nomination as a Samoan representative on the Legislative Council, on the ground that, although he could have himself judicially declared

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 1$5

a Samoan, he had chosen to retain his European legal status. Only three Samoan members, of whom Tamasese was the outstanding one, had, therefore, sat in the Legislative Council. After his return from

Wellington, Nelson decided to accept the situation; and, at the election towards the end of 1938, he was returned as a European member. The Fono of Faipule, for its part, agreed to make another nomination for the vacant Samoan seat. At the first session of the new council, the Honourable Tuala Tulo said: ‘Although the Honourable Taisi [Nelson] stands on the European side, yet we still look to him to help us respresentatives of the Samoans in all matters to advance the

welfare of the whole community’.7° The Samoans were, in effect, enjoying the best of both worlds. Before the 1938 election, universal suffrage had been introduced for the European roll; and, although the Labour Party—‘the Local Born Labour Party’, as it was commonly termed—was not successful on that occasion, its President, Amando

Stowers, was returned in 1941. The poorer section of the partSamoans, which had considerable sympathy with the Mau, thus gained political representation. By that time the council could, therefore, be considered fairly representative of the people. But in other respects the council remained little more effective than before. The practice, which had developed during the period of non-co-operation, of legislating

for Samoa by New Zealand order in council on subjects within the council’s constitutional competence continued, so that its legislative programme was always very light; and private motions were few, since the unofficial members realized that it was more important to make a case heard in Wellington than in Apia. The council’s most important function remained the consideration of the budget; but members were not given sufficient time to examine its contents with any thoroughness. Except for the budget session, meetings seldom lasted more than a single day, so that there was little opportunity for concerted action by the unofficials to develop during its proceedings. The council thus aroused little public interest; and, within the European

community at least, many of those who were best qualified for membership were unwilling to stand for election. Nor was the Finance Committee any more effective. The demand for

such a committee separate from the Legislative Council had come primarily from businessmen who were more interested in reducing

expenditure than in directing it into constructive channels. As a result of the difference in membership of the two bodies, knowledge gained in the committee was not fully availed of in the council. But,

156 SAMOA MO SAMOA even within its own limited field of operation, the committee was not a success. During its early meetings, the Samoan members treated it as a political forum, like the council itself, in which formal political speeches could appropriately be made; and, in any case, they possessed insufficient experiences for fully effective participation in detailed discussion of finance. The official members, for their part, seem to have seen it as an impediment to their administrative autonomy, not as a channel for the dissemination of economic knowledge or as a source of useful advice. At the district and village level, the failure to implement the 1938 proposals for the legal recognition of the ali’i and faipule, or to provide

any alternative, involved a virtual withdrawal of the government from the ordinary lives of the mass of Samoans. Palauli, under the leadership of Autagavai'a, was, in the words of the Secretary of Native Affairs, ‘a self-governing district’. It had its own police, held its own courts, and, for a time, obstructed government police when they entered the area.8° Elsewhere, the ali’i and faipule controlled local

affairs by more traditional means, with little interference from the government. Central government remained for most Samoans a matter of ceremonial, rather than of rights and obligations or of channels for the exercise of power. They were represented in it, in this ceremonial sense, by the Fautua. The matai also possessed the right to

elect a Faipule every three years and the expectation of attending a feast given by him after each session of the Fono, at which he would tell them of its proceedings and pass on the gossip of Apia. But there was little or nothing in this relationship between government and people to create a sense of political responsibility, or to increase understanding of the government process.

Other changes at this period were, in the long run, of greater importance than the constitutional ones. Tuimalealiifano died in 1937 and Malietoa Tanumafili two years later.* They were replaced as Fautua by Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole and Malietoa Tanumafili II. In 1943 Faumuina Fiamé, who had been elected to the title of Mata’afa, was appointed a third Fautua. The government lacked the will and the

ability to make full use of these men. But in the eyes of their own * On 27 Jan. 1937 Tuimaleali’ifano’s attainment of the age of a hundred had been celebrated (Western Samoa Mail, 30 Jan. 1937). Evidence was produced to show that he must have been at least twelve years of age in 1848. In 1927 he had given his age as eighty-four. Though his exact age must remain in doubt, he was clearly a very old man—and had been when he had shared the privations, including imprisonment, of his colleagues in the Mau.

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 157

people they possessed, as tama’diga and as the holders of high office

in the formal political structure, an unchallenged authority. They were in a position to provide firm leadership when the time should come to resume the struggle for self-government.

For the present, Samoa experienced another period of marking time. To a minor extent, local circumstances contributed to this decline in political action. In particular, Nelson suffered a progressive deterioration in health, culminating in his death in 1944; and Tamasese

was to some extent removed from the field of day-to-day political wrangling, as distinct from that of national leadership, by his acceptance of the office of Fautua. But, fundamentally, the situation was a

consequence of the outbreak of the Second World War. While the war lasted, the New Zealand government lacked the opportunity to examine problems of constitutional change, even if it had possessed the inclination to do so; and the attention of the Samoans was sub-

stantially diverted towards objectives unrelated to the issues of domestic politics. The most important of these latter resulted from the arrival of American forces in the territory in 1942. For a great many

Samoans this brought a prosperity that they had never previously known. Work was available, at high wages, on constructional work of many kinds, in unloading ships, and, for those with a good knowledge of English, as interpreters. Restaurants and new stores were opened wherever there were large groups of Americans; women undertook

laundry work; and there was a seemingly unlimited market, at inflated prices, for foodstuffs and illegally manufactured liquor. For the matai, the presence of the Americans created an additional task— that of maintaining control in the villages. In particular, they strove to restrict, by village regulation, association between young women of the villages and the troops. While American activity was at its maximum, Samoans tended to neglect normal agricultural work. Plantations remained unweeded; copra production declined; and the banana export trade fell to a small fraction of its former size. In addition, European plantations—including those of New Zealand Reparation Estates—suffered from a severe shortage of labour. But, owing to the high price obtained for both copra and cocoa, export earnings increased. The years following the visit of the ‘goodwill mission’ had coincided with the period of emergence from the economic depression; and export income for 1936-8 had averaged £286,000 (as compared with £121,000 in 1934 and £189,000 in 1935). The subsequent three-year period, 1939-41,

158 SAMOA MO SAMOA had been one of renewed, though less drastic, depression, when the average value of exports had fallen to £228,000. In 1942-4, however, export values rose to an average of £352,000. In 1945 they reached

the record figure of £630,000. Despite an increase in the cost of imports (offset, from the national point of view, by difficulties of supply and shipping), this was a period of substantial prosperity, from

which the government, as well as the private individual, benefited. Internal revenue rose from an average of £110,000 in the financial years 1939-40 to 1941-2 to £257,000 in the succeeding three-year period. And, as one result, the public debt, which had for so long worried both Samoan and European leaders, was wholly repaid.

During these years, the continuing political grievances of the Samoans were mainly expressed by a constant needling of the Administrator when he attended the Fono of Faipule and by attempts to enlarge the Fono’s authority. Demands were made for the removal of particular expatriate officials, for the promotion of Samoans to more

senior posts, and for the training overseas of the ablest Samoan youths. But when the Governor-General of New Zealand visited Samoa in 1944, and much more directly during a visit by the Prime Minister, the Right Honourable Peter Fraser,* in December of the same year, the opportunity was taken to emphasize that the broader political issues were still very live ones. The Fono of Faipule presented

Fraser with a series of requests. These included the association with the Administrator of Samoan representatives to deliberate with him on ‘all Government matters’, the appointment of Samoans as head of the Native Affairs Department and of a Department of Agriculture (which the Faipule wanted established), and the promotion of Samoans

throughout the public service. Further, the Faipule significantly indicated their attitude towards expatriate officers by asking that individuals should not normally be permitted to remain in the territory

more than three years and that none should be permitted to remain

more than six.

The Prime Minister was by now aware that his government’s policy

towards Samoa had been an inadequate one. But his capacity to reexamine it was limited by the administrative resources at his disposal. The thinking of officers responsible for Samoa, both in Wellington and Apia, went little beyond the maintenance of existing routine. Several important, though uncomplicated, decisions were made. In particular,

a scholarship scheme was inaugurated to enable some of the ablest * Fraser had become Prime Minister on the death of Savage in 1941.

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 159

Samoan children to go to New Zealand for further education, and a new appointment was made to the office of Administrator. This was

not an easy position for the New Zealand government to fill, as Savage's failure to act, after his preliminary statement in 1936, had shown. But, at about this time, Fraser received a letter from Lieutenant-Colonel Francis William Voelcker, enquiring whether, on his demobilization, a suitable post might be available for him in the

New Zealand island territories. Voelcker, a former officer in the British regular army, had settled in New Zealand some years before the war. In 1938, as campaign manager for the Labour candidate in a rural constituency, he had been very largely responsible for an unexpected Labour victory. Subsequently, as the commanding officer of a battalion of island troops in Fiji and the Solomons, he had been

conspicuously successful. Fraser knew of his work in both these capacities and decided on his appointment as Turnbull’s successor. From these beginnings, Fraser hoped, greater things might grow. Constitutionally, Samoa was still in 1946 almost as far from selfgovernment as it had been when Langstone and O’Brien had followed the Mau band through the main street of Apia ten years earlier. But, in some significant respects, the situation had changed. A new generation of Samoan leaders had emerged that was better equipped to take an active part in the work of government when the opportunity should arise. These younger men did not possess a more adequate formal education than their predecessors, since New Zealand policy had done nothing towards providing them with it. Indeed, none of them could compare, in this respect, with Mata’afa Salanoa, the former Fautua, who had studied for the Roman Catholic priesthood in Europe and Australia and who was said to have spoken French and German, as

well as English, with fluency.® But they possessed a confidence that he had lacked in arguing questions of politics and economics with European administrators. For some, such as Tamasese, this was partly a result of their experience in the Mau. For nearly all, it was related

to their experience in commerce or agriculture, Fonoti Ioane, who had been Leader of the Fono of Faipule during Fraser’s visit, was an Apia merchant; To’omata Tua, his successor as leader of the Fono, was a prosperous trader and cocoa planter in Savai’i; Tualaulelei Mauri, the ablest Samoan member of the Legislative Council at this time, had served for many years in commercial firms. For Samoans such as these, the Western world was no mystery; its representatives were not priests, the sanctified exponents of a superior learning, but

160 SAMOA MO SAMOA men of common clay to be judged, in their actions and their attitudes, as rigorously as they would judge fellow Samoans.

Among the part-Samoans, there had also been some changes of outlook and growth of experience. At an earlier stage, nearly all of them had sought to identify themselves with the Europeans, whose position and standing had aroused their envy. This attitude had been exemplified in the first part of Nelson’s career, when he had served as chairman of a succession of citizens’ committees and as leader of a variety of other specifically European enterprises. Most part-Samoans

still took pride in their European status, although—unlike their counterparts in Fiji—they still retained some contact with their Samoan ’diga. But the second part of Nelson’s career, when he had been the principal adviser and effective leader of the Mau, had presaged a further, and highly significant, development: the birth of a desire to assume the role of leadership within Samoan society itself. Few others, among the educated or well-to-do, had yet gone as far

as Nelson in seeking identification with Samoan society, though some held matai titles. But at a somewhat different social level there had been the beginnings of a movement away from European status.

Fonoti Ioane, for example, had formerly held that status and been known as John Brown; and one of the four Samoan members of the Legislative Council had made the same change. The future union of the two sections of the Samoan community had become, despite government policy, a possibility.

These changes, like the growth in Samoan prosperity, which—

by facilitating the emergence of a group of well-to-do Samoan planters and traders—was itself providing a new basis for leadership,

were the results of time and circumstance, not of policy. The New Zealand Labour government had, in its first ten years of office, restored to Samoa a fair measure of political quiescence; but it had done so by abandoning the country’s duty to provide constructive leadership and without providing the Samoans with an opportunity of assuming responsibility for their own future.

Approach to Self-Government 1946-58

6 THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 OWARDS the end of 1946—exactly twenty years after the L pubtic meetings that had led to the formation of the Mau—the New Zealand government invited representatives of the Samoan

people to examine a draft agreement for placing the territory under United Nations trusteeship. This action, though limited in its purpose, had consequences even more important than those which had flowed from Richardson’s attempts to suppress opposition to his régime.

In New Zealand, the Labour Party had maintained a nominal allegiance since the end of the First World War to the policy of internal self-government, under international supervision, for territories that were unable to exercise the full powers of an independent state. During the drafting of the United Nations Charter in 1945, the New Zealand Prime Minister, the Right Honourable Peter Fraser, had served as chairman of the committee on trusteeship and been one of the most convinced advocates of the trusteeship provisions.

As Western Samoa was one of the ‘territories now held under mandate’ (the first class of dependencies listed in the Charter as eligible for this form of supervision), the New Zealand government had taken it for granted that it would become a United Nations Trust

Territory. In Samoa, the attainment of self-government had been the accepted objective of political activity since the early years of the Mau. The

arguments in favour of it, and the techniques of presenting and organizing support for them, had been learnt by the country’s political leaders in the course of their work for that movement. In 1930 Nelson

had cited the example of Tonga as proof that local political control was not incompatible with continuing dependence on the service of overseas experts.? And the drawing of this comparison between the situation in Tonga and the demands of Samoa had become part of the orthodox presentation of the Samoan case. In 1932 the editor of the New Zealand Samoa Guardian had published a lengthy review of Lord 163

164 SAMOA MO SAMOA Hewart’s The New Despotism and had used its analysis of ‘the preten-

sions and encroachments of bureaucracy’ as the basis of a forceful criticism of many of the procedures of the Samoan administration.” Fourteen years later Tupua Tamasese still frequently referred to this book to gain support for his attacks upon the continuing predominance of the executive power in Samoa. In ways such as these the Samoans had developed their case for self-government; and from the assemblies, committees, and processions of the Mau they had acquired a pattern

of organized political action that could be followed whenever an occasion for doing so should arise. The intellectual and emotional commitments of the New Zealand Labour government and the Samoan leaders reflected broadly similar

political ideologies. Both groups were opposed to colonialism, in principle. But the government was interested, primarily, in playing a progressive role on the world stage and the Samoans, almost exclusively, with the character of its policy towards their own country.

Samoan discussion of the draft trusteeship agreement produced a convergence of these two lines of interest, since it ensured that the New Zealand government’s policy in the United Nations would be related to its performance in its most important dependency.

On the morning of 30 October the Administrator convened a special meeting of the Legislative Council, which was also attended by

the Fautua. He mentioned, in his opening remarks, that the Prime Minister had informed him that the “Trusteeship Committee will not

begin for some days’. This phrase deeply disturbed the Samoan representatives, since it clearly indicated that the draft agreement had been referred to them for information, rather than for action. ‘It is a very important and delicate document’, the Honourable Tupua Tamasese said, ‘and unless a person has legal knowledge he cannot obtain a quick understanding of the purport of it... .“* During the luncheon adjournment, the Fautua and Samoan members had a private discussion. In the afternoon Tamasese presented their agreed * The New Despotism (London, 1929) was reviewed and discussed in the issues of the New Zealand Samoa Guardian for 21 Jan. and 18 Feb. 1932. Lord Hewart was Lord Chief Justice of England. One passage (1945 reprint, 14-15) that was felt to have a particular relevance to Samoa was the following: There is an agreeable story, not too old, of a distinguished Anglo-Indian civilian, who, returning home on leave after a prolonged absence, passed the Houses of Parliament on his way from Victoria to Charing Cross. ‘What place is that?’ he asked. “That, sir,’ was the answer, ‘is Parliament—the Houses of Parliament.’ ‘Really,’

he exclaimed, though his exclamation was in fact slightly different, “does that rubbish still go on?’

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 165

conclusions. In introducing them he declared that Samoa had already

asked the Prime Minister—in 1944—for self-government, a right

long enjoyed by Tonga and about to be conceded by Britain to India. The Atlantic Charter had already affirmed that the right of all

peoples to choose their own form of government was ‘one of the principles for which the war has been fought’;* and the deputy Prime Minister, the Right Honourable Walter Nash, had declared that ‘the throwing overboard of the principles of the Atlantic Charter is a betrayal of those who have given their lives in the war’. Yet now

they were being asked to approve on behalf of their people of a proposal for continued dependency. They asked that, instead, ‘all Samoa be invited to attend a meeting of the official and non-official Samoan people to discuss fully this matter’.®

When the Prime Minister received the Samoan request, he at once agreed to it and arranged for the Assistant Secretary of External

Affairs, Foss Shanahan, to visit Samoa as his representative. On Wednesday 13 November, a “Fono of all Samoa’ assembled at Mulinu’u. It was a large gathering including the Fautua, the Samoan members of the Legislative Council and Faipule, the Sanioan associate judges, and additional representatives of each Faipule district. At the opening meeting Shanahan explained the purpose of the proposed

agreement. Then he and the Administrator withdrew. During the

remainder of the week, while the Fono deliberated in private, something of the passion of the heyday of the Mau was revived; and New Zealand and its latest proposal were strongly attacked. Did the trusteeship scheme not indicate that once again—as in 1899 and 1919— the future of Samoa was to be decided by others? Did it not show that

the Powers were continuing to treat the Samoan people as inferiors?

Many argued in favour of a transfer to United States control: the Americans at least had money; and Samoa would again be united. But to the leaders, such as Tupua Tamasese, there was no acceptable alternative to self-government. So far as a special association with a larger country was necessary, it was best, they considered, that this * The relevant passages in the Atlantic Charter, a ‘Declaration of Principles’ issued by the President of the United States and the Prime Minister of Britain in August 1941, read as follows: Second, they desire to see no territorial changes that do not accord with the freely expressed wishes of the people concerned. Third, they respect the right of all peoples to choose the form of government under

which they will live; and they wish to see sovereign rights and self-government restored to those who have been forcibly deprived of them.

166 SAMOA MO SAMOA should continue to be with New Zealand. Eventually, the text of a letter to the Administrator was agreed upon, in which he was asked to submit through New Zealand to the United Nations ‘the freelyexpressed wishes of the Samoan people’.*

When the Administrator and Shanahan rejoined the Fono on 18 November the letter was presented. It expressed appreciation of the attitude of the Labour government towards Samoa since 1936 and

specifically recognized ‘the efforts made on behalf of the rights of the small nations’ by the Prime Minister in the United Nations. But it affirmed the complete opposition of the Fono to the draft trusteeship

agreement. This, the letter declared, ‘varies but slightly from the promises held out by the League of Nations under the Mandatory system’. The Fono, therefore, asked that a petition should be presented to the United Nations, of which the relevant clauses read: 1. We humbly beseech that Samoa be granted self-government. 2. We earnestly pray that New Zealand will see fit to act as Protector and adviser to Samoa in the same capacity as England is to Tonga.f

After the Fono had agreed to amend its comparison between the proposed agreement and the terms of the mandate—to which strong exception was taken by officials—the Administrator agreed to forward the letter in accordance with the Fono’s request.®

The position of the New Zealand government, at this stage, was not a simple one. It had considerable sympathy for the desire of the Samoans for immediate self-government, in association with New Zealand, and understood their reluctance to accept a further period of

international supervision. But it was committed to support of the trusteeship system. It believed that, in realistic terms, there was no incompatibility between its position and the wishes of the Samoans. One of the principal objectives of United Nations trusteeship had been defined as that of preparing trust territories for ‘self-government or independence as may be appropriate to the particular circumstances of each territory and its peoples and the freely expressed wishes of the * No record was kept of the private discussions of the Fono. This account is based on discussions I had several years afterwards with participants. In 1954 Tamasese stated that ninety per cent. of those present originally favoured the transfer of the territory to American control (Minutes of Working Committee— Development Plan, 10 Feb. 1954). + The petition also asked that ‘the unnatural division of the Samoan group enforced by the Three Powers in the past without the consent of the Samoans’ should be left for discussion between the people of the two territories; but this was not a matter of which the United Nations could take cognizance.

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 167

peoples concerned .. .’.7 And the Prime Minister—who also held the portfolios of External Affairs and Island Territories—had for some

years cherished the hope of setting Samoa securely on the road to self-government. But, unlike the Samoans, he saw it as a road that could be fully traversed only over a long period of years and which could not even be entered upon till several important questions had been answered. How was the existing constitution actually working?

What were the probable lines of social evolution during the next generation? How far did factional differences divide the people of the

territory? To none of these questions was it easy to obtain reliable answers, yet they were an essential preliminary to reform. Furthermore, constitutional proposals could not, even then, be sprung on the people: they must emerge from serious discussion among those concerned. But when, and by whom, was such discussion to be initiated? Two events which closely followed the Fono of all Samoa defined

the limits within which an answer would have to be found. On 13 December 1946 the General Assembly of the United Nations approved

the trusteeship agreement for Western Samoa. In March 1947 the Trusteeship Council began its first session, at which the New Zealand

representative was to present the Samoan petition and ask that the matters it raised should be investigated on the spot. The New Zealand

government was, therefore, faced with the choice of defining its intentions towards Samoa in much more than mere amiable generalities or of facing certain criticism, within a matter of months, in the United Nations. At this time I was asked to visit Samoa in order to report on the

present working of the administration and to forecast the likely submissions of the Samoans to the expected mission from the United Nations. I was also to visit Tonga, in order to compare the political circumstances of the two countries. On my return to Wellington two

months later I was to report my findings to the Prime Minister. Within a few days of my arrival in Apia, the formal appointment by the Trusteeship Council of a special mission to visit Western Samoa was announced.

The situation which I found existing within the administration was a depressing one. Little survived of the status of the Administrator,

except its formalities. Each year he still went on malaga through the

various districts distributing, like Father Christmas, gifts of beef and biscuits and small grants for local works. But neither New Zealand

nor the people of Samoa expected him actively to govern. When

168 SAMOA MO SAMOA Voelcker had succeeded Turnbull in 1946, he had been appalled by the lowly regard in which his position was commonly held. He possessed

the will, the personal presence, and the integrity which, in other circumstances, might have enabled him to revive its influence. But by April 1947, when I arrived, it was clear that his hopes of doing so were doomed to disappointment.

The administrative structure through which he had to work was almost a caricature of old-style British colonial models which had largely disappeared in their places of origin. Secretariat, Treasury, and Native Affairs remained largely isolated from one another. The two former, which functioned as though they were branch offices of a New Zealand department, were also isolated from Samoa itself. The

latter—the Department of Native Affairs—attempted to maintain a kind of informal empire over the Samoans on the basis of its claim to expert knowledge of ‘native custom’. No single officer possessed a responsibility, comparable to that of the Chief Secretary in a British colony, for the over-all co-ordination of administrative activities. The public service was, on the whole, ill-qualified for the tasks it

had to undertake. Before the War an attempt had been made to recruit a few university graduates for administrative service in Samoa;

but those who were actually appointed had found little scope for their talents in a service dominated by men of different background

and had resigned. Samoa had continued to be dependent for its administrative staff on men seconded from the ordinary ranks of the New Zealand public service. A few of these, indeed, had responded to their opportunities and served Samoa with intelligence and sensitivity: they had found their reward in the respect of the local people, if not always in official approval. But many had lived in Samoa for years without learning anything of importance about the country or the people, having few contacts beyond expatriate circles, and looking

forward to the time when they would return to the New Zealand suburbs that they looked on as home. Many had found a basis for self-esteem in the expression of contempt for all Samoans. A few— even more conscious of their worth—had seen themselves as martyrs rendering selfless service to an ungrateful people. One or two had set themselves up as experts in things Samoan, like guests correcting their host from a manual of etiquette. None of these men had served

in positions of real administrative responsibility outside the New Zealand island territories; few knew—or seemed much to care— about the solution of problems similar to Samoa’s in other parts of the

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 169

world; their notions of policy and of administration were largely limited to what they had picked up in their own small realm, a construct of red tape and their own illusions.

Local men, both Samoan and European, might perhaps have mitigated this unpromising situation. Their knowledge of the wider world and of administration was generally even more limited than that of the New Zealanders; but they possessed a greater sense of commitment to Samoa and, in many cases, an innate ability that should have enabled them to rise, with encouragement and experience, to positions

of responsibility. Circumstances, however, had prevented this from happening. Since 1931—as a consequence of the government’s acceptance of the disastrous report on finances and staff—the Samoan public service had been controlled not by any local authority but, remotely, from New Zealand. Promotions, and even the granting of increments,

frequently required lengthy correspondence with Wellington, of which the outcome appeared in Apia to be more a matter of chance

than of reasoned argument. Moreover, the attitude of most New Zealand officers had been inimical to this sort of development. Samoans were useful as translators and interpreters, local Europeans for routine clerical duties, and both for the filling of subordinate positions in the

medical and educational services; but this was about all. A high proportion of the abler local recruits who joined the public service in youth left it eventually for the wider opportunities of business or planting. Politically, the situation was less easy to assess. A meeting of the

Fono of Faipule, which was just ending when I arrived, had not carried the definition of Samoan aims much farther than the Fono of all Samoa had done four months earlier. In official eyes this was seen as

further evidence of the incompetence of the political leaders and of the conservatism of most Faipule. “The missed political opportunities of the last Fono’, one senior official wrote, ‘make quite an imposing

list . . no real discussion of self-government. .. .’* In reality, the position was rather different. Men such as Tupua Tamasese and Tualaulelei Mauri had been thinking hard about the plan of action for the next few months. And the narrow victory of the Labour Party in the New Zealand general election in December had added a note of * This quotation and a number of others in this chapter are from documents of which I possess copies. Many of them reflect errors of judgement that were widely shared in official circles, and it has seemed best not to identify the individual writers unnecessarily by specific citation.

170 SAMOA MO SAMOA urgency. “The future of the Labour government seems in doubt’, Tualaulelei said to me. ‘If it goes out of office, our demands may again be met with guns. * But the Samoan leaders were aware of their inexperience in respect of the framing of precise constitutional pro-

posals; and they were determined not to give their critics an opportunity to ridicule them by saying too much too soon. On the European side, a firm declaration in favour of self-govern-

ment had been made during the Legislative Council meeting of 30 October by the Honourable Amando Stowers. Subsequently, two public meetings of “European citizens’ had been held in Apia, under the

chairmanship of Stowers’s colleague in the council, the Honourable

A. G. Smyth. Despite his past connection with the Mau, Smyth declared himself opposed to self-government. ‘A democratic system of self-government is impossible’, he said, ‘until the Samoan social and political systems emerge from their present state . . . I consider we are

all better off as we are at present... .’ There was some support for this opinion—mainly, it would seem, among other papdlagi. But the majority—linked by blood and sentiment with the Samoans—took its stand beside the Samoan leaders. Eugene Paul, one of Samoa’s most successful business men, expressed the view of this majority when he

rejected the imputation of Samoan backwardness. ‘Politicians are made and not born’, he said, ‘and I think we have the material here to

make them. . . . If we honestly believe in Samoa then we have no option but to support the movement that is on foot now.’ He did not believe, he added, in immediate self-government but in “a period of transition’. When a Citizens’ Committee was elected—at the close of the second meeting—it clearly reflected this point of view. With one

exception, its members were of part-Samoan descent. Although Nelson was dead, his influence lived on. The twelve members of the

committee included two of his daughters, a brother-in-law, two sons-in-law, and others who were related to him or had been closely associated with him in business and politics. The committee, in due course, chose Eugene Paul as its chairman. By the end of April, when the appointment of the United Nations mission was announced, excitement and anxiety were rising rapidly. The Samoan leaders had no doubt that Fraser wished them well. But what of the local officials? Were they not solidly opposed to con-

stitutional reform? Would they not seek to cast ridicule on the * Verbatim quotation, in this chapter and succeeding ones, of remarks made in conversation is based on notes taken shortly after the remarks were made.

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 71

Samoan case? Would they not attempt to detach individuals—both Samoan and European—from the majority party and build them up as the ‘true representatives’ of Samoan opinion? “In these vast ocean spaces, Henry Adams had written from Samoa nearly sixty years before, ‘a whisper echoes . . . and causes earthquakes.’ All through May people exchanged information—or were suspected of with-

holding it; private conferences were held and their conclusions noised abroad, along the Beach and among the villages. Voelcker himself was one of the sources of this uncertainty. He had

begun well in Samoa. His enthusiasm for his development plans, his energy, his personal generosity and natural gregariousness—all had made a favourable impression and won him support. But he was unhappily conscious of his administrative inexperience, his lack of

knowledge of Samoa; and he had come to rely increasingly on advisers. In this respect, he was both unwise and unfortunate. Some of his senior officers, who all too obviously lacked his confidence, had little access to him; but others—in some cases less senior—assembled regularly at “Vailima’ for an informal chat about the week’s events. In these wide-ranging discussions, this group of intimates had come to

seem indispensable to him. In the light which their knowledge cast upon events, everything became subtly changed. The Administrator came to see himself as the ruler of a country dominated by personal jealousies, by intrigue and by corruption. At this time, when political interest was rising, his dependence became even greater. The Secretary of Native Affairs, F. J. H. Grattan

—the principal “grey eminence’ of ‘Vailima’—prepared a series of working papers on the social structure, history, and current politics of Samoa. These were learned documents, which crystallized the results of many years of study by a man trained in anthropology; and I count myself among those who benefited greatly from them. But they also crystallized many of the attitudes and opinions that had come to pass current in the ‘Vailima’ discussions. According to this orthodoxy, Samoan leaders could mostly be classed as agitators (‘those elements that are in politics for the worst possible reasons’) or loyalists (who ‘would oppose self-government at present’). In the long run, it was thought, more and more Samoans would sce the good sense of the loyalists’ position. And, in any case, practical proposals for reform

must be based on the assumption of a long continuance of New Zealand rule. But, in the meantime, the agitators were a major object

of concern. They were likely to endanger the good name of the

172 SAMOA MO SAMOA administration by their criticisms and almost certain to provoke internal conflict by their ‘typical Samoan mishandling’ of the task of

preparing a case for the United Nations mission. However, the Secretary was able to report: “Careful steps are being taken to perfect a small intelligence system that will be sufficient to tap true Samoan opinion for the guidance of the Administration’. The Administrator accepted the whole of this analysis. Indeed, he alarmed even his closest associates by the visions of turmoil and violence

that he erected upon it. His state of mind did not remain unknown to the Samoans. During his meetings with the Fautua, in particular, his suspicion that political activity was taking place of which he was not being informed reached the surface. In private, he chided Mata’afa for not taking the lead, as the eldest of the Fautua, and Malietoa for

not doing so, as the holder, he said, of the senior title. He sought both to divide the Fautua and to isolate Tupua Tamasese, who, as the successor of Tupua Tamasese Lealofi III and the son-in-law of Nelson, was seen as the leading opponent of the status quo. My own visits to ‘Vailima’ were made, at his request, by taxi, rather than by government transport, so that the extent of our contact should not be known. In fact, in this atmosphere of intrigue, an arrangement had been made by which taxi-drivers who had been to ‘Vailima’ drove slowly past Tupua Tamasese’s house each evening calling out the names of the passengers they had carried.

My own position, as a secker of information and opinion from Samoan and local European leaders, was helped by the fact that I was regarded as a representative of the Prime Minister, not of the local administration.* But there was a natural reluctance to talk too freely. One man to whom I was particularly anxious to talk I was unable even

to meet. This was Tofa Tomasi, the son of a German father and a Samoan mother, who, as Thomas George Nauer, had been sent to New Zealand for internment as an enemy alien during the war. In New Zealand he had had time to read and think and had decided to identify himself completely with the Samoans. On his return he had taken Samoan status and been elected to a matai title. He told me several years later, when we had become close friends, that he had been * It had been intended that my visit should have the public appearance of being simply that of a student of politics; but it quickly became known that the Samoan Treasury was paying me an expense allowance and debiting its payments to the Department of External Affairs in Wellington. The deviousness of this procedure conformed to the conventions of Samoan political behaviour and enhanced, rather than reduced, my personal standing.

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 173

convinced that a meeting with a New Zealand representative could seriously endanger his standing with his fellow Samoans. In these circumstances, information of Samoan plans reached the administration somewhat indirectly. On Monday 5 May, the first rumour of a forthcoming Samoan gathering reached Voelcker. When he met the Fautua next day, he was disappointed that they told him nothing. But by the end of the week most of the essential facts were known. The Fautua, after consultation with certain leading Samoans and some (though not all) members of the Citizens’ Committee, had issued invitations for a meeting at Mata’afa’s village of Lepea on 22 May to discuss the preparation of a case for presentation to the mission. According to report, it was to be a large gathering—con-

siderably larger than the Fono of all Samoa. And it was being summoned in a traditional Samoan way: orators had gone out from Lufilufi, Malie and Leulumoega—the political centres of Timua—to seek the co-operation of Pule.

In official circles, it was believed that this meeting would be disastrous, especially to the reputation of Tamasese, the principal driving force behind it. Invitations had apparently not been sent to certain villages, or particular chiefs, where antagonism to self-govern-

ment was anticipated. Further, it was understood that the meeting would continue till the mission’s arrival in July. How, it was asked, were sO many visitors going to be fed for so long?

In fact, the organizers had simply adopted the procedure that had been used for important assemblies of the Mau—such as that which

had met at Vaimoso on Nelson’s return from New Zealand in 1933. Meetings in the various districts selected delegates, of whom between four and five hundred came to Lepea for the preliminary discussions. But after several days the majority returned home; and only a committee of district representatives remained to do the solid work. The position of this committee was, indeed, not an easy one. It was true that some leading Samoans either opposed self-government, as an immediate objective, or had doubts about its feasibility and that others

were antagonistic—often on grounds of long standing—to the principal organizers or to the manner in which the meeting had been called. Of even more importance, the committee members lacked the experience and training needed for expressing the demand for selfgovernment in terms of precise constitutional proposals. This disability was shared to a considerable extent even by Tupua Tamasese, the best qualified of those participating in the discussions,

174 SAMOA MO SAMOA a man who had read fairly widely and gained as extensive a political experience as Samoan conditions permitted. And Tamasese’s rank imposed certain obligations and certain restraints upon him. Much of

his energy was devoted—very properly, in Samoan eyes—to reconciling differences of outlook and opinion among his colleagues.

He had little opportunity for developing detailed, constructive proposals. In this situation, Tofa Tomasi came to the fore. Many Samoans were suspicious of Tofa: he was, after all, part-European; and his obvious ambition seemed to reflect the growing pretensions of many people of similar background. But, in the absence of acceptable European advisers—such as those who had drafted the nine-

teenth-century constitutions of Samoa, Tonga and Fiji or, more recently, that of the Samoan Church (L.M.S.)—they had no easy alternative to the acceptance of his help.

Tofa circulated a paper, with the consent of the Fautua, at the opening of the Lepea fono. This was in the form of a draft in three parts: a speech to be delivered on behalf of the district of A’ana; a ‘Constitution of the Government of Samoa’; and a speech to announce

the constitution. It was a curious document but highly revealing, as an astute man’s estimate of what would prove generally acceptable.*

The first part contrasted New Zealand’s presentation of the draft trusteeship agreement to the United Nations with Samoa’s presentation of its petition. The former action was described as being, in effect, a ‘petition’ against self-government supported by specific proposals

regarding the manner in which New Zealand should continue to administer the country. The latter was shown to be, by contrast, a statement of aspirations, without any indication as to how effect

should be given to them. The United Nations was certain to be critical, it was suggested, of this deficiency. Samoans, the inheritance of our ancestors may yet be taken away from us through our negligence and lackadaisical nature. No wonder the speech by the Tama a Aiga was given in a most lamentable spirit, lamentable because of their love for Samoa. ... We cannot wait for the tide to come

in or to go out. Samoa, be brave in our battle of thoughts with New Zealand for our existence... . I do declare, that our self-government cannot be granted unless we can convince the United Nations that our proposed form of constitution * The document was, of course, written in Samoan. The English translation— which is the only version of it that I have seen—may be needlessly infelicitous in its wording.

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 175 will enable Samoa to run her own Government. I therefore agree with the speech of Tama a Aiga to have a proposed form of constitution of our own Government drawn up.

This constitution, it was declared, should be ‘in conformity with the

usages and customs of the country as agreed upon by Samoa at present’. Such a prescription was stated to involve recognition of two

existing elements: firstly, Tiimua and Pule and ‘the royal families and their sons’ (i.e., the fama diga); and, secondly, the Faipule and their constituencies. This would enable the government to ‘be run in such a manner that the rating according to rank coincides with the position in the Government’, since it would be the function of the first element ‘to uphold the dignity of the country’ and that of the second ‘to seek the general prosperity of the country’. The actual provisions of the constitution, which varied slightly between two drafts of the “Constitution of the Government of Samoa’, were relatively simple. There were to be three Princes jointly holding

the office of Head of State, “Tuiatua, Tuia’ana, Malietoa’ (i.e., the three Fautua, Mata’afa, Tupua Tamasese, and Malietoa). The Princes were also to serve in a kind of upper chamber of the legislature, to be known as the House of Princes. In the original draft, the three Princes were designated as the sole members of this house; but, in a later draft, it was provided that there should be eleven further members (obviously

representing Timua and Pule). There was also to be a lower house, known as Parliament, of forty-one members elected for a five-year term by the existing Faipule constituencies. All legislative and other measures were, apparently, to be initiated in the lower house and, when passed, sent to the House of Princes for review. In the event of disagreement, there was to be a joint session of the two houses. A ‘Premier’ and ‘Ministers’ were to be chosen from (and presumably by) the members of the lower house.

It was proposed that ‘some capable clerks or secretaries . . . and also lawyers’ should be appointed as staff for the two houses; but other administrative questions were to be left for future consideration

by the new government. Proverbial support was quoted for this: ‘O Ie aso ma le filiga, oe le aso fo’i ma le mata’ina’ (‘deal with matters one

at a time, day by day’). In one respect, however, the document did go into further detail: the establishment for the Princes. Each of them should be provided with a Residence proper for their rank. Arrangements will require to be made for the building of a third house.

176 SAMOA MO SAMOA They should be provided also with furniture, cars, servants as at present allowed to His Excellency the Administrator. A Fono House to be called the Fono House of Princes of Samoa should be erected at Mulinu’u and each of them should have a Seal of Office to affix to resolutions of the Parliament of Samoa.

As an essay in constitution-making, the “Constitution of the Government of Samoa’ was, to say the least, somewhat incomplete. It

was quickly exposed to criticism when it became known in official circles. It seemed to pander to a Samoan preoccupation with the ceremonial aspects of government, to the neglect of the practical, and to seek to gratify the Princes with its promise of houses, cars and servants. What was the meaning, it was asked, of the reference to ‘the building of a third house’? Were ‘Vailima’ and “Tuaefu’ the two existing princely houses? But the more sinister aspect of the scheme was to be found, it was suggested, in the brief provisions relating to the executive government. Would not the Premier, rather than the Princes, possess real power? And who would be the ‘capable clerks’ and ‘lawyers’? And what purpose could there be in proposing an inquiry into administrative organization at a later stage, it was asked, other than the provision of “fat jobs’ for the politicians’ relatives? I did not see the full significance of the document myself till much later. When I returned to New Zealand, I reported that it exemplified a conception of government rooted ‘both in Samoan tradition and in experience of European administration’. ‘Provided a Samoan government gives a dignified headship and also administers the technical services, it will, so many Samoans think, be adequate.’® This was a sadly deficient analysis. The statement in Tofa’s draft speech, for example, that ‘the rating according to rank’ should coincide with ‘the position in the Government’ expressed an idea of fundamental im-

portance in Samoan political thinking. The attainment of such a coincidence was regarded as a requisite not only of social propriety but also of political stability. Yet the relationship of rank and position, on

the one hand, to power and influence, on the other, was a fluid one. Traditionally, the great chiefs—Tuiatua, Tuia’ana and Malietoa—had

come to the fore in times of war; at other times the orator groups constituting Tiimua and Pule had been the supreme political manipulators. At this time of political crisis—‘the battle of thoughts . . . for our existence’ (in Tofa’s words)—the same great chiefs were again taking the lead. The diminished role of Tiimua and Pule was reflected in the apparent uncertainty as to whether it was necessary to provide a special

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 177

place for them in the legislature. No less significantly, the provision for a lower house based on the existing Fono of Faipule demonstrated the type of change that Samoan society would readily accept. The Fono had not, in general, disrupted old local groupings—villages and

sub-districts—but merely provided a new channel by which they could exercise influence at the national level. In this it differed from the Legislative Council, a wholly exotic creation, which had no successor

in the proposed constitution. Had I understood how sensitively Tofa’s document mirrored Samoan thought in these ways, I should have been able to see with greater clarity the answer to the immediate constitutional problem. But there was no one within the administration with the sympathy towards Samoan aspirations necessary for such an interpretation; and I, as anewcomer, had to find my own way forward by trial and error. None the less, as the days of constant discussion went by and the constitutional issue was considered by the most diverse groups, the elements of a workable—if incomplete—scheme began to emerge. At Lepea the pride and frustration that lay behind the proposal for an immediate transfer of power were increasingly tempered, it seems, by caution. In discussion with me, Tualaulelei, for example, expressed views that were both more detailed and less radical than those in the ‘Constitution of the Government of Samoa’. He thought that a formal transfer of authority to the Fautua was necessary but agreed that their power might be limited to that of ensuring that the constitution was not transgressed; and he envisaged their working in close association with a New Zealand representative, who might perhaps carry the title of Resident. His keenest interest, however, was in the composition of the legislature. He did not believe that a body such as the Fono of Faipule could yet assume legislative powers, since most of its members would be men in touch with the ideas and problems of the villages but

largely ignorant of the processes of modern government. A more expert body would long be required both for the making of laws and the control of finance. On this body—which he saw as a development of the existing Legislative Council—there should, as in the existing

council, be separate representation of the European community. Indeed, he was prepared for European membership to be greater than

could be justified on a population basis, since he considered that awareness of governmental problems was more widely dispersed among the Europeans than among the Samoans. On the executive side,

he imagined that the Resident (or Administrator) should remain as

178 SAMOA MO SAMOA the principal executive officer, in association with ministers chosen from the legislature. But he added one proviso: the minister in charge of finance should be a New Zealand official for some time to come. Tualaulelei was a man of wider experience than most of his associates; but, in his general line of thinking, he was by no means alone among Samoans.

Within the Citizens’ Committee thinking had developed along very similar lines. At first many of its members had been attracted emotionally to the demand for immediate self-government. They had suffered, after all, at the hands of insensitive officials for whom they

had had little respect; and they revered Nelson’s memory. But, as had always been so with representatives of the European community, their background and their interests—in commerce and in planting— created in their minds a preoccupation with the problem of ensuring

efficient and economical government. When they were invited to Lepea to meet the Samoan committee, they took with them a list of recommendations. These began with the suggestion that agreement should be sought for ‘a transition period of ten years . . . to be followed

by a further period if found necessary’. As the initial steps in this transition, they proposed a reformed Legislative Council, a programme of training for locally recruited public servants, and a major expansion of the education system. They suggested that the Legislative Council should consist solely of unofficial members—seven Samoans and five Europeans—and that official control should be maintained only in the form of a power of veto, vested in the Administrator.

These various proposals all concentrated on a relatively small number of issues. Others which were no less important in relation to

the over-all pattern of Samoan political development were little discussed. But, from the point of view of practical politics, this was a clear advantage. To establish the conditions necessary for the success of any programme of political advancement, New Zealand had to gain the confidence of the people of the territory; and this required both a

formal declaration accepting self-government as the objective of policy and a programme of immediate reforms that would be seen as a major step towards it. The fact that these reforms could be limited

initially to a few matters, and to those on which opinion and the experience of other dependencies provided fairly adequate guidance, greatly simplified the problem. And it was made less difficult, also, by

the evidence of growing support in Samoa for a policy of gradual transition.

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 179

When I returned to Wellington in June, circumstances were peculiarly favourable to the advancement of the views I had formed in Samoa. The United Nations mission was due in New Zealand within a fortnight; and the Prime Minister was increasingly perturbed by the

nebulous character of New Zealand policy. The scope of my report was, therefore, broadened, so that it included not only an analysis of existing conditions but a series of suggestions for future action.!° These were primarily directed towards the solution of the urgent problem of political advancement but touched, also, on the longerterm problems of district and village government and of social and economic development. These suggestions were essentially tentative; and they underwent considerable modification and expansion during the following weeks. But they served the immediate purpose.

When I called on the Prime Minister to discuss my report, he greeted me with the words: “You have opened the door to the future for me in Samoa’. He explained that it was about 1940—when he had been deputy Prime Minister for five years—that he had first realized the deficiencies of New Zealand administration in Samoa. His brief visit in 1944 had heightened his awareness of them and given him some general notion of what changes were needed. Since then he had done

what he could in limited fields; but he had lacked an over-all plan. When he met the mission several days later, he quoted my recommendations as a general statement of his government’s intentions; and, at his request, I spent the next few months working on them—and on

other ideas that emerged—in greater detail. After some weeks of study and discussion in Wellington, I returned to Samoa to join the External Affairs Department representative who had accompanied the mission.

By the time of my arrival in Apia the mission had gone a considerable way towards sizing up the situation. It had been greeted by a procession similar to those which had welcomed Nelson and the ‘goodwill mission’ in earlier years. The marchers had carried banners emblazoned with slogans in support of freedom. “Good government is no substitute for self-government’—the words of Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman that had echoed so widely round the colonial world—

was perhaps that which, in their own thinking, most forcefully expressed their attitude as well as their demand. And, everywhere that members of the mission had gone, except in one district, they had been met by Samoans wearing the Mau uniform. Among members of the European community they had found a more cautious attitude;

180 SAMOA MO SAMOA and some Europeans—particularly papdlagi—had seemed fearful of what the future might hold. From officials the mission had heard the defensive criticism of the Samoans, the stories of division, intrigue and incompetence which had been told to me several months before. Both the Samoans and the Citizens’ Committee presented detailed proposals in writing. The Samoan document was submitted on behalf of ‘the Fautuas, Members of the Legislative Council, Faipules, Associate

Judges and District Representatives of Western Samoa’." In essence,

it was a development, in more down-to-earth terms, of the “Constitution of the Government of Samoa’. It provided that the three Fautua should jointly hold the office of Head of State and that there should be a legislature composed of forty-one Samoan members— i.e., the Faipule—and ‘three or four’ European members. Advisory committees should be constituted in association with the main spending departments; but executive control should, it was implied, remain for

the present with the permanent heads of departments. The New Zealand ‘representative’ in Samoa should have a power of veto over

decisions of the legislature and “be the protector or Consul for foreigners. A ‘Board with full powers’ should be constituted ‘to select local people on their merits for government positions’. Finally, it was proposed that lands held by New Zealand Reparation Estates should be handed over to Samoa. The Citizens’ Committee document closely followed the lines of that which had been submitted earlier to the Samoan committee at Lepea. The addition of ‘not more than’ six official members to the

Legislative Council was, however, now recommended; and a suggestion was made for reorganization of the membership of the Fono of Faipule with a closer regard to the distribution of population. On paper neither of these sets of proposals looks, perhaps, particularly dangerous or revolutionary (though both failed to mention certain important matters); but, in the prevailing atmosphere of fear and distrust, of lack of frank communication between government and

governed, the reaching of decisions seemed fraught with difficulty. To this situation the members of the mission reacted in different ways. The chairman (and President of the Trusteeship Council), Francis B.

Sayre, combined the belief of his late father-in-law, Woodrow Wilson, in self-determination with experience as United States High Commissioner in the Philippines. On his feet he was an apostle of freedom; in the office he was a cautious ex-proconsul. Pierre Ryckmans, a former Governor-General of the Belgian Congo, brought an

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 181

acute and well-informed mind to the consideration of every problem; but, because of his country’s responsibility for Ruanda-Urundi, he was anxious that the mission—the first sent to any trust territory—

should establish no precedents that might embarrass other administering authorities.12 The third member of the mission, Eduardo

Cruz-Coke, of Chile, had no previous experience of dependent, or quasi-dependent, territories. He was a member of the Chilean Senate

and a professor in the Santiago medical school. He had arrived in Samoa later than his colleagues, and he was compelled to leave before them.

But it was Cruz-Coke who dominated the work of the mission. A Catholic intellectual of great brillance, whose mind had been set aflame during his student years in Paris by the teaching of Bergson and the poetry of Paul Valéry, he would talk for hours, with knowledge and wit, about art or religion, medicine or politics. In Samoa he believed that a sufficient knowledge of the facts was easily acquired.

The real problem lay in understanding the values and aspirations behind them and in devising a programme of reform that would both satisfy the Samoans and provide a basis for future stability and freedom. Thinking of the pedestrian ways, as he saw them, of his colleagues and their staff he declared: ‘Facts, they are useless where there is not

passion’. When his colleagues went on tour, he remained in Apia studying documents and trying to sketch out a plan of reform. On my arrival back in Samoa, he adopted the convenient fiction that, as we were both academics, it was proper for us to disclose to one another every fact and expression of opinion that came to the notice of either of us, in order that we could jointly consider their significance.

Most evenings before retiring we would walk round the shores of Apia harbour exchanging the news of the day and considering its relevance to our problem. In my own thinking there was one matter which I had continued to shelve: the future constitutional position of the Fautua. It seemed

clear that they could not, at that stage, jointly hold the position of Head of State, since even the Samoan proposals seemed to envisage leaving executive authority in the hands of officials responsible to New Zealand. But, during these walks, Cruz-Coke kept returning to the matter. The Fautua were, in fact, he insisted, accepted by the Samoan people as their rightful leaders: no reforms which failed to associate them with government at its highest level would be acceptable. Could they be associated on terms of equality, we speculated, G

182 SAMOA MO SAMOA with the New Zealand representative, who would have to remain, for the time being, the chief executive officer of government? Could there be some form of council of which all four would be members and, if so, what should it be called? Out of these discussions emerged the idea of a Council of State, of which the New Zealand representative (to be named, if possible, something other than Administrator) should be chairman and the Fautua members. But what should be the council’s

functions? We agreed that its members should jointly represent the government on ceremonial occasions; but we wished to avoid conferring on it executive powers, in order to leave the way clear for the

later development of cabinet government. We concluded that it should have a broad advisory role which would remain undefined except in relation to matters of Samoan custom, where it seemed appropriate to accord it specific recognition. A solution to the other urgent constitutional problems—the com-

position and powers of the legislature, the future of the Fono of Faipule, and the control of the public service—had emerged more gradually and as a result of discussions involving a greater number of people. Both the External Affairs representative, G. R. Laking, and I, on the one side, and Cruz-Coke, on the other, were largely in agreement as to details. With the intention of settling these issues and that of the Council of State, so far as the mission’s recommendations were concerned, Cruz-Coke set to work to prepare a draft of this section of its report. When he had finished it, he said jubilantly to me: “There is a Spanish proverb, “He who hits first, hits twice’. I have got my

ideas on paper; Mr Sayre and Mr Ryckmans, they have not. So I force them into merely commenting on my draft.’ He looked forward,

I think, to the displays of intransigence, to the appeals for quick decisions in view of the imminence of his departure, which he intended to use to force his draft through without serious amendment. In fact, when the mission’s recommendations were formally explained to us, it emerged that little had been changed.

At this stage, Laking and I sought a private meeting with the Fautua. Among the Samoan leaders there was still widespread mistrust of the administration and fear of its possible influence on New Zealand

thinking. These feelings were, in turn, fully reciprocated. “The Samoans rely for their information only on rumour’, Voelcker declared, ‘and often mischievous rumour at that.’ And even the chairman of the mission seemed not uninfluenced by this opinion. Although it was now likely that mission recommendations and New

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 183

Zealand decisions would coincide, there remained a danger that agreement with the Samoans would be made more difficult by rash statements on one side or the other. On the other hand, I knew that Tupua Tamasese, for whose judgement and resolution I had come to have the highest regard, was worried by the lack of constitutional knowledge possessed by most of his colleagues and would probably welcome any development that might infuse a greater element of practicality into their thinking. The moment had, therefore, come, we thought, when a bold move on our part might not only remove the risk of trouble but lay the foundations of mutual trust on which sound political development could be based. At this meeting, Laking explained that we wished to tell the Fautua

of the recommendations we contemplated making to the Prime Minister. Taking a calculated risk, I went farther. I said that I thought the Prime Minister would not wish to deny them full self-government if he were satisfied that that was the real wish of the Samoan people and that its implications were understood. But the only way to clear

our own minds, I suggested, was for us to consider the subject of constitutional reform in detail. Did the Fautua think, for example, that the control of finance could be vested immediately in a Samoan minister? In this way, moving systematically from point to point, we

found we were largely—though not wholly—in agreement. The barrier of mistrust hitherto dividing the Samoan leaders and the New

Zealand government had, in effect, been pierced at the highest political level.

After this meeting I returned to New Zealand to report, while Laking remained in Samoa till the end of the mission’s visit. When I arrived in Wellington, the Prime Minister and the Secretary of External Affairs were about to leave for a conference in Canberra. There was time for only one meeting with the Prime Minister, during which I explained the changes and additions which Laking and I recommended should be made to the earlier proposals. I explained, also, a possible complication. Sayre had recently made a speech which both we and his colleagues feared could endanger our relations with the Samoan

leaders. Laking would telegraph the government if any further speeches of the same character were delivered; and, in that event, we recommended that a statement of New Zealand policy should be made

immediately, without waiting for the publication of the mission’s report. The Prime Minister agreed to this course of action being followed if the need should arise.

184 SAMOA MO SAMOA Not many days later such a telegram was received; and I immediately prepared the draft of a policy statement. For a variety of reasons, but principally as a consequence of the speed with which planning had proceeded, no one but those immediately concerned had been privy to the Prime Minister’s intentions. No record had been kept of my discussion with him before his departure; and letters and telegrams between Wellington and Apia provided only a very partial coverage of the proposals. The Acting Prime Minister, the Right Honourable Walter Nash, however, agreed to proceed with the statement (with which he personally agreed) and, after discussing it with Cabinet and reading it over the radio telephone to the Prime Minister, delivered it in the House of Representatives. ‘I desire to inform the House’, Mr Nash began, ‘that the Government

have under consideration certain constitutional changes in Western Samoa.+8 The most important of these were: the establishment of a Council of State; the replacement of the existing Legislative Council

by a legislature with full powers and an unofficial and Samoan majority; and the establishment in the territory of ‘an independent Public Service authority’. Certain other matters were listed as ones that the New Zealand government wished to discuss with the new legislature, when it was formed, and with the Fono of Faipule (which was to continue unchanged). These included the possibility of developing a common status for both ‘Samoans’ and ‘Europeans’ who regarded Samoa as their permanent home and the development of ‘local-body government for the villages and for Apia’. In regard to New Zealand

Reparation Estates, whose lands the Samoans had asked should be handed back to them, the present practice of using their profits for the benefit of Samoa was to be continued; but possibly a legal form would be given to it by the establishment of a Samoan Development Fund, to which the profits would be paid and from which grants would be made. “The present proposals’, Nash concluded, “are intended only as the first steps in a process which will not end until the Samoan people are able to assume full responsibility for the control of their own affairs.’

It was recognized by the government that the proposed change in the control of the public service would take time to implement. The necessary legislation would itself be somewhat intricate; and, since it

was intended to create an authority that would have the primary responsibility of devising methods for the promotion and training of local officers, without jeopardizing the rights of officers seconded

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 185

from the New Zealand service, its administrative implications would require very careful consideration. But it was intended to establish

the Council of State and the new legislature almost at once. I left the Department of External Affairs at this stage to resume my university duties in England; and responsibility for developing the government’s proposals fell largely on Laking. On his return from Samoa at the end of the mission’s visit, he prepared a draft bill and,

when it was completed, took it to Samoa for discussion with the Fautua. In the second half of November the Samoa Amendment Bill passed both houses of the New Zealand Parliament. As the mission’s report had been published in September, the explanatory memorandum accompanying it had pointed to the substantial identity between the recommendations of the mission and the provisions of the bill.14 And, as a result of certain late developments, it had added: ‘The latter will confer on the Samoans a slightly greater measure of control over their own affairs than is envisaged by the report of the Mission’. The Samoa Amendment Act, 1947, which was brought into force by proclamation on 10 March 1948, introduced several smaller changes,

in addition to the major ones that had provided the principal reason

for its enactment. Constitutionally, the most significant of these was the designation of the territory’s principal executive officer as ‘High Commissioner’, in place of ‘Administrator’. Together with the adoption of the term ‘Government of Western Samoa’, in place of ‘Administration of Western Samoa’, this was intended to confer added dignity and to give substance to New Zealand’s acceptance of Western Samoa as a self-governing state in the making.

The provisions relating to the Council of State were relatively brief. The Council was to consist of the High Commissioner (as chairman) and the Fautua. It was to be consulted by the High Commissioner on all proposals for legislation which he intended to place

before the legislature, on ‘all matters closely relating to Samoan custom’, and on any other matter which he thought appropriate. Against the background of recent discussions and of New Zealand’s avowed intentions, these provisions brought the new form of govern-

ment into a generally acceptable relationship with the traditional political structure of Samoa. The new legislature—to be known as the Legislative Assembly— was to consist of the members of the Council of State, eleven Samoan

members, not more than five European elected members, and not more than six official members. The High Commissioner was to

186 SAMOA MO SAMOA preside and to possess a casting, but not a deliberative, vote. The eleven Samoan members could, under the Act, be either elected or nominated.

This matter and others relating to the procedure for electing or nominating members, the qualifications of electors and of members, and the term for which the assembly should be elected were to be determined by New Zealand order in council. The intention was that initially the European members would be elected under adult suffrage and the Samoan members be nominated by the Fono of Faipule. The assembly would be dissolved every three years.

Two restrictions were placed upon the assembly’s legislative powers. They were not to extend to matters relating to defence, external affairs, or the title of the Crown to land. Further, certain New Zealand laws—primarily the constitutional sections of the Samoa Act, 1921, and its amendments—were declared to be reserved enactments;

and, in respect of the matters with which they dealt, the assembly’s powers were limited by a provision for non-repugnancy with these reserved enactments. Subject to these restrictions, the assembly was to possess full powers both in respect of legislation and of the control

of finance. The High Commissioner was to possess the right of refusing assent to bills, and the power of the New Zealand Parliament

to legislate for Samoa was, of course, not affected; but the whole emphasis of the new policy ensured that these would be used sparingly.

The requests that had been formally made by the Samoans—i.e., the petition for self-government in place of trusteeship, and the points

later put before the mission—had represented both a demand for constitutional reform and a protest against the insensitive and often boorish and ill-informed paternalism of the administration. They did not indicate that the naturally cautious and conservative Samoans were unwilling to accept the protection and advice of the United Nations, or of New Zealand, or that they were anxious to expose themselves to the hazards of unnecessarily rapid change. The reforms that had now been enacted or promised, as a first step towards full self-government, thus largely satisfied the immediate demands of the Samoan leaders. At the highest political level, the High Commissioner would remain as executive head of the government; but, through the association with him of the Fautua, as members of the Council of State, ‘the rating according to rank’ had been equated with ‘the position in the Government’. At the legislative level, the new assembly did not give the Faipule constituencies direct representation; but the number of Samoan

members had been fixed at eleven, in order that the Fono of Faipule

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 187

could, if it wished, give direct representation to each of the eleven traditional political districts. Although the higher posts in the public

service would still remain for some time the preserve of New Zealanders, the promise had been made—and none doubted that on the New Zealand government's part it had been made sincerely— that local people would be trained as quickly as possible to take over

these positions. And, beyond these things, there was the certain prospect that the implementation of the reforms would create a new, and very different, political situation. In future the government of Western Samoa would be able to carry on effectively only so long as it remained in sympathetic touch with the people’s representatives. This was perhaps the ultimate justification of what had been done.

The Prime Minister once told me of his feeling of guilt when he had first come to understand fully the deficiencies of New Zealand’s

record in Samoa. ‘T can only count for certain’, he had said, ‘on another two and a half years in office; and I doubt whether my probable successor has the imagination to know what must be done.’

He was determined that the crucial step forward should be taken while he was still in office, so that from then on the Samoans would themselves be able to determine the character and timing of future changes. In the event, the New Zealand Labour Party was defeated at the end of 1949; and Sidney George Holland, the former Leader of the Opposition, became Prime Minister. He accepted fully the implications of the situation; and all three of his colleagues who held successively the portfolios of External Affairs and Island Territories co-operated—though with varying degrees of effectiveness—with the Samoans in the planning of further advances. It was, however, the policy changes of 1947 which represented the break-through in the direction of self-government. And it was a break-through of a kind

rather unusual in the annals of colonial development, since it had ensured that the political future would not be planned in Wellington— as the futures of so many other dependencies have been, and are still

being, planned in London, or Paris, or Canberra—but in Western Samoa itself.

7 THE NEW POLICY AT WORK HEN the Samoa Amendment Act came into force in March

V¢ 1948, the new system of government began to gain substance. The Council of State soon held its first meeting; and in April the first elections were held to the Legislative Assembly.! But, even so early as this, events began to diverge from the expected pattern. On

27 March Mata’afa Faumuina Fiamé Mulinu’i died; and shortly afterwards the Fono of Faipule recommended that no new appointment of a Fautua should be made. The Council of State thus became a

body with three members, instead of four: the High Commissioner (as president), Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole and Malietoa Tanumafili II. It remained so constituted till it ceased to exist on Samoa’s attainment of independence in January 1962. For the election of European members to the Legislative Assembly, as to those of the former Legislative Council, all residents of European

status over the age of twenty-one were eligible to enrol as electors, and each elector had the same number of votes as there were places to be filled. The election aroused far greater interest among the European

community than had those to the council. The United Citizens’ Party, which had been formed by the members of the Citizens’ Committee of the previous year, and the Labour Party each nominated five candidates; and a vigorous campaign was conducted by means of broadcasts, public meetings and leaflets. Four United Citizens’ Party candidates and one Labour Party candidate—Amando Stowers, who

had sat in the previous council—were returned. Among the new members were Eugene F. Paul, who had been chairman of the Citizens’ Committee, and G. F. D. Betham, a son-in-law of Nelson. All five of the successful candidates were of part-Samoan descent.* * Papdlagi who had been willing to stand on the U.C.P. ticket had not secured nomination. Electors enrolled numbered 1,014 and those voting 819, representing a poll

of eighty-one per cent. The votes for successful candidates were: E. F. Paul (U.C.P.), 568; J. Helg (U.C.P.), 510; G. F. D. Betham (U.C.P.), 468; A. Stowers (Lab.), 436; W. F. Stowers (U.C.P.), 383. The highest vote for an unsuccessful candidate was 342, gained by A. M. Gurau (Lab.). The returns are given in the Pacific Islands Monthly, XVIII (1947-8), no. 10, 7. 188

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 189 The Samoan members were selected by a complex process of discussion and consultation, in which the simple requirements of the law determined little more than the form in which the final decision was presented. In 1947 I had been bemused, like many other advisers on the constitutional development of dependent territories, by the apparent virtues of a system of indirect election. I had been impressed by the good sense shown by the Faipule in making nominations to the Legislative Council and the Finance Committee and had concluded that, though most of them were themselves ill at ease in the world of modern politics and administration, they possessed the judgement needed for choosing men who could become effective members of the legislature. The New Zealand statement of policy of 27 August had indicated that the Samoan members would be nominated by the

Fono of Faipule. In January 1948, although the order in council embodying this decision had not yet been made, a Fono of all Samoa

was held, in order that the Faipule might have the assistance of additional representatives from each constituency in deciding upon their nominations.? This meeting at once revealed that I had been in error in simply taking it for granted that the Fono would be willing to assume the responsibility that was to be legally conferred upon it. In fact, the Faipule seem to have been primarily impressed by the dignity and importance that the new assembly was to possess. Why, they seem to have asked, should they arrogate to themselves a responsibility which rightly belonged—as the Samoan leaders had always implied—to the country as a whole? Their answer to this question had been

to refer the selection of members to the eleven traditional districts. This action had involved the districts in the attempt to reach decisions

through meetings and discussion. In several districts the procedure worked smoothly. In Palauli, for example, the national prominence and political adroitness of Tualaulelei Mauri, coupled with the support

of his candidature by certain influential chiefs and orators, enabled him to emerge as the sole nominee. In A’ana the continuing influence

over the whole district of the orator group at Leulumoega and the ambition and ability of Tofa Tomasi combined to produce a similar result. But, in this case, more delicate preparation was necessary. The

importance of Leulumoega itself provided a strong reason against the representation of the district by Tofa, the holder of a relatively unimportant title in the village of Faleasi’u; and Tofa’s European background was a further difficulty. “But I knew’, Tofa later told me,

‘that Leulumoega had been impressed by my prominence at the

190 SAMOA MO SAMOA Lepea fono and was inclined to favour me, as the man who could bring most distinction upon the district by his work in the assembly. So I went to Leulumoega; and, with tears in my eyes, I pleaded with the fono not to make me stand but to nominate one of themselves, as the only proper representative of A’ana, in accordance with tradition.

I knew that this gesture of respect would remove their last doubts. And they asked me to stand.’ But in many other districts agreement could not be reached. The political structure of the districts had always been weaker and more precarious than that of the villages; and, as a

result, it had shown a greater tendency to crumble under the impact of modern changes. The holder of a chiefly title that would once have carried weight throughout the district was not unlikely to find himself with little power to command agreement beyond the limits of his own village; an orator group that had once organized the affairs of its district with dexterity and success not infrequently found its complex

manipulations no longer effective. As a result, when the district discussions were completed, the Fono of Faipule had found itself with thirty-one nominations for the eleven seats. What, then, should the Fono do? During the meeting of the Fono of all Samoa it decided to hand the list of nominations to the Fautua and to request them to make the final choice. In informing the Administrator of this action the Leader of the Fono, To’omata Tua, said: We understand the law . . . but owing to the anxiety of the Samoans to get these 11 members as soon as possible, it is now the unanimous agreement of the whole of Samoa, including the 41 Faipule, that the selection of the 11 members should be handed over to the Hon. Fautua... .3

Voelcker agreed to this arrangement, provided those selected were later formally nominated by the Fono. The Fautua themselves accepted the task on the basis of the Fono’s initial assumption that representation should be on a district basis. Where there was only one nomination,

they simply accepted it. In the other cases, they had a complex task to perform. Apart from considerations of individual ability (or of family or personal ties), there were a number of general issues to consider. It was the “younger men’,* with experience of trade or government service, who would be most effective in the assembly but the ‘older men’ who had the closest links with the ordinary matai * The words ‘younger’ and ‘older’ were used with a sociological significance, rather than in reference to physical age. The men who were most in touch with the modern world were thought of, in effect, as representatives of a new generation of Samoans.

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK IQI in the villages. Or, looking at the matter from a quite different angle,

members chosen from the political centres were likely to be most readily accepted in the districts; but, if all members were so chosen, a concept of representation which was outmoded and already weaken-

ing would be given new life. In fact, they decided that the path of wisdom was that of compromise.

The list which they finally prepared contained three “younger men’, Tofa, Tualaulelei and Fonoti Ioane. Fonoti, To’omata’s predecessor as Leader of the Fono of Faipule, had been the principal founder of the first predominantly Samoan-owned company, Samoa

Traders Ltd. He lacked both the book-knowledge and the wide command of English possessed by Tofa and Tualaulelei; but, as his career had shown, he was a man of drive and considerable shrewdness. His title belonged not to Lufilufi (the political centre of Atua, which he was to represent) but to Lotofaga. Among the ‘older men’ selected

Tuala Tulo was the most notable. He had been a leader in the Mau from its foundation and later a member of the Legislative Council and an associate judge. He possessed a deep knowledge of Samoan custom and tradition, unusual sensitivity in personal relationships and unquestioned courage and independence of mind. For the rest, the list represented an attempt to maintain an acceptable balance between the various factors involved. It was not an ideal selection from any point of view, and in one or two districts it produced acute dissatisfaction; but it enabled the assembly to begin work with reasonable prospects of success. Early in April the Fono of Faipule formally nominated the eleven

men whom the Fautua had chosen; and on 28 April—the day of the European election—the appointment of ten of these was confirmed. Tofa Tomasi was deemed by the government to be ineligible,

as he remained a German national. He, therefore, sought, and obtained, naturalization as a British subject, after which his appointment also was confirmed.

At the beginning of June two major events gave further evidence of the growing reality of the new political era. On 1 June the newly authorized flags of Samoa—the Samoan flag (which had just been adopted) and the New Zealand flag, flown conjointly—were raised ceremonially for the first time. An official anthem, “The Banner of

Freedom’, had been composed for the occasion. In the wave of sympathetic emotion which the occasion generated the country gained a national flag, a national anthem and a national day, all of

192 SAMOA MO SAMOA which established a hold on the people’s minds and survived as part of the ceremonial superstructure of the nation state that they were engaged in creating. The next day the High Commissioner opened the first session of the Legislative Assembly. In February 1949 Voelcker completed his term of office, which had begun as Administrator and ended as High Commissioner. On 1 March his successor, Guy Richardson Powles, arrived in Samoa. In New Zealand the selection of Powles as High Commissioner and, to a lesser extent, the appointment of new men to a number of key administrative positions were regarded as important steps towards the implementation of the policy to which Cabinet and Parliament had committed themselves. Although Powles, like all his predecessors except Turnbull, had attained senior military rank during war service, he was appointed on the basis of his civilian qualifications. Before the war, when he had practised law in Wellington, he had been known as a perceptive student of public affairs; and latterly he had served, with the rank of Counsellor, at the New Zealand Embassy in Washington. His background, his energy, and his liberal views had been considered to fit him for the task of leading Samoa towards self-government.

From England I had followed these events with interest and a sense of personal involvement. During 1948 I had allowed my name to

go forward as the New Zealand nomination for a senior post on the staff of the newly founded South Pacific Commission. When I informed the government of my intention to decline the appointment

that was eventually offered to me, I added a rider: if the Prime Minister would be interested in my returning to Samoa, and could assist me in obtaining about eighteen months’ leave from my university duties, I should be glad to play a part in implementing the policies by which I knew that he set such store. And so it was arranged.

I returned to New Zealand; and, one afternoon at the beginning of May 1949, I looked down again from an aeroplane on the villages lining the reef-girt shores of Upolu, on the untidy sprawl of Apia, and landed once more at Faleolo airport. I had come back, not as an adviser—as often the bane as the salvation of colonial territories—

but as a working member of the Samoan public service.

IN my new position I was to be designated as “Trusteeship Officer’, a rather vague title that was intended to cover a variety of duties relating

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 193 to the preparation of Samoa for self-government. In particular, I was to concern myself with those of the 1947 proposals that had not yet been implemented, with recommendations by the United Nations mission and the Trusteeship Council, and with the development of the work of the Legislative Assembly, so that it might become an effective training ground for its elected members. Administratively, I was to be an officer of the Secretariat, responsible directly to the High Commissioner. I was to sit in the Legislative Assembly as one of the six official members.

In some ways my appointment was a slightly embarrassing one for the High Commissioner. Although my formal position, as an officer wholly responsible to him, was quite clear, I had been appointed at the direct instigation of the Prime Minister; and, on this account and as a consequence of my work in 1947, I had a standing with the local leaders that was quite independent of his own. Moreover, since I did

not intend to make a career within the New Zealand service, no considerations of self-interest affected my attitude towards the conventions of the papdlagi ‘ascendancy’. I could afford to be, so far as I

wished, that most suspect figure in colonial ‘white’ society—an outsider. Nor did it make for administrative ease that I had come back to Samoa to help the Samoan people in ways that I had myself decided and was determined to do so, within the time that was available. As a cautious administrator, Powles liked to feel that he had examined all

the possible consequences of a decision before he took it. My own

approach to the work of government was that of the politician, as much as that of the administrator. Like Cruz-Coke, I accepted the role of emotion in politics and sought, through my private contacts and public statements, to arouse enthusiasm for the projects to which I had set my hand. I did not believe it was possible to foresee all the consequences of a decision of any complexity; and I was as much concerned with the timing and context of action as with its content. I believed that, so long as the government retained the goodwill of the people, it could later correct decisions that experience showed to have

been erroneous. In these circumstances, it was fortunate that our official relationship was made less difficult by an underlying mutual regard and a range of common interests that extended well beyond our work. I believed that my own effectiveness would depend most of all upon

a close association with the people of the country—both Samoan and local European. And this conviction accorded fully with my

194 SAMOA MO SAMOA personal inclinations. In 1947 I had made a number of firm and valued friendships—with Tamasese and Malietoa, with Tualaulelei, with members of the Nelson family and some others. Now, when I had returned as a resident, these friendships were resumed and new ones were formed—not only with political or social leaders, but with men and women in most sections of society, both young and old. As I lived in Apia, I was in most frequent contact with Samoans living partly Westernized lives and with members of the local European community. But, as time went by, I came to know well Samoans in many parts of the country. Few villages in Upolu were inaccessible on a weekend excursion, if one enjoyed a moderately strenuous walk

from the most convenient road terminus along the coast or, less commonly, over the mountains. And occasionally my official duties took me to most parts of the territory. In these ways I learnt, in time, to dispense finally with the sociological stereotypes that had become crystallized in official memoranda and reports, in European opinion and in most that had been written about Samoa. The opinions, values and interests of those whom I came to know as friends could be described, certainly, in general terms but seldom in those which my fellow-papdlagi had tried to teach me.

There were few things that could be said, for example, about all the members of the local European community. They possessed in common their separate legal status, a general tendency to wear European dress, and a fairly general—though not universal—ability to speak the English language. But, in almost all other respects, they were character-

ized by wide differences of background, of interest and of outlook. Most were, in fact, part-European by descent; but, since the essential requisite for the possession of European status was to be partly of non-Samoan descent (in accordance with a complex and curious legal definition of the term ‘Samoan’), some were Chinese-Samoan and a few others of different but also wholly non-European origins. Among the European ancestors of the part-Europeans, the largest numbers had been British or German; but Americans and Danes, Frenchmen and Swiss and persons of other European nationalities had also settled in the country. Many of the local European families had been established in Samoa for several generations, some for almost

a century. The national origins of many of them had thus become,

through intermarriage, extremely complex. For similar reasons, some local Europeans were of predominantly Samoan descent, some half-Samoan and a small proportion predominantly European. Many

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 195 —particularly among the better educated—prided themselves on retaining the full rights of citizens or nationals of the country from which the founder of their family had come. A fair number had, in fact, retained such rights. Many others, however, were merely cherishing an illusion; and these, like the Samoans, possessed the national status of British protected persons. Several years before this, an attempt to describe the economic status of the local Europeans had been made by Amando Stowers. He said: My own estimate in regard to this subject is that there are about 50% of the local born Europeans who have no permanent work. They have casual employment now and then, and I put it down that their total income for the year is only about {/50. .. . Thirty per cent of the local born have steady employment but they have a starvation wage; 15% of the local born population, I believe, receive a living wage.*

These figures were not based on a detailed survey, and Stowers’s main

purpose in citing them was to emphasize the need for improved conditions; but they were, at least, the estimates of a man whose ready sympathy kept him in close touch with his constituents. In the succeeding years conditions had somewhat improved. There had been expansion both in commercial activity and in public works expenditure, which had considerably increased the amount of employment available to local Europeans. But it was still true that, though some

lived in considerable affluence, a large proportion of European families lived in actual poverty or on the verge of it. Socially, as well as economically, the local European community could be considered as falling into several groups. At one end of the scale were families which had been comfortably off, at least when the country itself was prosperous, for a considerable time. Some members

of this group were cocoa planters. The majority were primarily interested in commerce, as the owners or managers of the larger local business firms. Many had been educated overseas—mainly in New Zealand—or had worked or travelled outside Samoa as adults. Socially, their interests were similar to those of people with the same educational and economic background in New Zealand or elsewhere. They played tennis and golf; they entertained their friends at cocktail parties and

dinner parties; they kept in touch with a wider world through subscription to overseas newspapers and magazines. The language of their

homes was English. Few had any deep knowledge of Samoan— particularly of the dignified language of formal oratory—but most knew sufficient for the conduct of ordinary conversation.

196 SAMOA MO SAMOA Some members of such families had married New Zealanders or Australians, though the majority had married within their own group.

Their circles of friends embraced many of the more acceptable papalagi residents. But their relationship with the papdlagi group, considered in the abstract, was not a completely simple one. Old slights and injustices were remembered, though they were seldom allowed to reach the surface. And the boorishness of many papdlagi residents was clearly recognized. As one friend said to me, “When we were in New Zealand, we didn’t know people like these’. However,

the resentment that remained was generally formulated in fairly impersonal terms. Members of these families needed to ask no favours of the papalagi: they led satisfying lives and possessed the resources needed to look after themselves and their interests.

Their relationship with the Samoans was, on the whole, good, but with some undertones of stress. O. F. Nelson, of course, had held

the important title of Taisi, and one of his daughters had married Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole. Some other well-to-do local Europeans remained on fairly intimate terms with their Samoan “Giga, giving advice or financial help when it was needed and participating occasionally in family discussions. Others had fallen into a position of greater

remoteness. But, on the Samoan side, there were not infrequent murmurs of doubt or suspicion. Were not the prosperous Europeans, one would be asked, mainly interested in their own financial advancement? Did they possess a sense of wholehearted allegiance to Samoa or was not their loyalty divided between Samoa and some foreign land? During the period of political tension in 1947, these doubts and suspicions had had considerable political significance and, in similar circumstances, they were not unlikely to have it again; but, in the calmer atmosphere which prevailed during 1949 and 1950, they were no more than a source of minor friction, not a real impediment to practical co-operation. Not entirely separable from this group were families whose contacts

with the outside world were slightly more tenuous. Many had relatives who had settled in New Zealand or even in the United States; and a few had begun, in the wave of post-war prosperity, to send their children overseas for schooling. But the adults were almost all Samoaneducated. These were the people who controlled most of the smaller

business firms, served in responsible clerical positions in the major firms or the public service, and owned the smaller European planta-

tions. Most of these families were, on their non-Samoan side, of

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 197 British or German descent; but some were Chinese-Samoans. To a large extent, they were fully bi-lingual, often moving back and forth between Samoan and English in the course of a single conversation. At Government House parties or other official functions they mixed easily with papdlagi, but they generally had few close friends among them. On a number of occasions, I was surprised to realize, when attending a dance for perhaps a hundred people in one of their homes, that only two or three other papdlagi were present. Attitudes towards

the papdlagi group were affected, that is, by the absence of close personal ties, as well as by a sense of antagonism partly inherited from the past. Relations with their Samoan ‘diga, on the other hand, were often very close. Members of such families combined fluency in the

Samoan language (and sometimes a good knowledge of Samoan custom) with the experience and resources to enable them to give much practical help. These two groups were important both politically and economically ; but, in terms of numbers, they constituted only a minority of the local

European community. More numerous were the families which depended for their livelihood on their earnings as shop-assistants, as artisans, or as junior clerks, or who cultivated small holdings. They possessed neither capital nor special skills; and no trade unions existed

to look after their interests. Their earnings were low. Unless they could produce a substantial part of their food requirements or, as was commonly the case, there were several income-earners in the household, they were likely to live in fairly straitened circumstances. As a result of these difficulties, their relations with both the Samoans

and the papdlagi were strained and ambivalent. In and around Apia they lived in close contact with Samoans who faced similar economic problems. And they were drawn towards their own Samoan ’diga because the latter possessed land on which, in some cases, they were able to plant food or cash crops. Some of the men married Samoan women. Apart from the personal factors involved, such a marriage generally had economic advantages. A Samoan wife, particularly if she had been brought up in a village, was likely to be able to keep house on a smaller income than a European wife could do. On the other hand, the obligation to provide hospitality in accordance with Samoan custom bore particularly heavily upon them and encouraged a measure of withdrawal from their Samoan connections. Finally, as they possessed few of the hall-marks of distinction recognized in either

Samoan or European society, they tended to take pride in their

198 SAMOA MO SAMOA European status itself, to see it as a badge of superiority and as the basis of a claim, at least, to some form of privilege. Their relations with

the papalagi were the obverse of those with the Samoans. They respected the papdlagi way of life and often envied the privileged position which the papalagi held; but they stood to gain little of practical or permanent value from them. The young women, of whom many worked as typists or shop-assistants, were sometimes taken out by the single men who formed a significant proportion of the

papalagi group; but these associations relatively seldom led to the marriage that was often hoped for by the girls themselves. (Papdlagi who did marry locally generally married into families with a less constricted background.) Many of the men worked under papdlagi superiors; but this was a relationship which commonly led to frustration, very seldom to real friendship. A considerable section of the local European community lived in circumstances of even greater difficulty than these. This latter, im-

poverished group corresponded roughly with that which Amando Stowers had described as without ‘permanent work’ and had estimated

at fifty per cent. of the whole community several years before. The bulk of its members lived, mostly in Samoan-style fale, in the swampy and least attractive parts of the town and round its outskirts. I met a considerable number of the younger people from such families, mainly

at dances arranged by church and other clubs; and I came to know some well enough to visit them in their homes. In many such households, the mistress of the house would be a woman who spoke no English. One distinction between members of this group and the rest of the local European community was that most did not possess liquor permits, since they could not afford to drink ‘Customs liquor’. Those who did possess them generally disposed of the liquor they

obtained, at a profit and in contravention of the law. When they entertained, they served illegal home-brew (known as _fa’amafu). Among the younger people one met at their parties, the more enterprising had jobs in shops or in copra and cocoa stores, or as labourers in the building trade or the Public Works Department. But there were also many drifters, young Samoan rclatives who had left their villages and local Europeans who could not find, or did not want, steady employment. These latter lived as best they could, sponging on ‘diga, picking up odd jobs from time to time, resorting, in some cases, to petty theft. In this environment—one that seemed to those who lived within it to offer little hope (except to those who found it

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 199 in the consolation offered by the churches)—a police record carried little stigma and certainly did not involve ostracism. These people had, ordinarily, no close personal contact with any papdlagi and little standing in Samoan society. One handicap that was suffered by all but the better-off sections of the local European community stemmed from the deficiencies of their limited education. In a village, life could be full and interesting without the benefits of formal schooling. There were occupations, such a» fishing, that were as much a sport as an economic activity.

But, for town-dwellers, fruitful forms of relaxation were not so easily come by. Some of the younger men played football or cricket;

but only a tiny minority had learnt to play tennis, and golf was a preserve of the well-to-do. Despite the availability of good beaches, swimming was not generally thought of as a pastime for adults. And the less well-educated had not acquired the habit of settling down to read a book. The Roman Catholic Church, to which a large section of the local European community belonged, made an effort to help, through its excellent social club; but a big void remained.

This tended to be filled by the local form of the ‘bottle party’. Frequently, for example, a local European would give a party on the nearest Saturday to his birthday. This would begin at mid-day, when shops and offices closed for the weekend—the beginning of what would otherwise be a period of boredom. By late afternoon the guests would

be in a mood to begin dancing—mainly the Samoan siva. At about seven, an enormous and elaborate meal would be served, in contemporary Samoan style, often out of doors—pork and chicken, chop suey, pisupo (canned corned beef), crabs and crayfish and other seafood, fruit-salad, sponge cakes and coffee. When it was over, the slightly somnolent guests would have a few more drinks, after which they might decide to go, as a group, to a public dance in the town. They would be invited to return later, when drinking and Samoan dancing would be resumed. In extreme cases, such parties would continue till late on Sunday, hosts and guests taking short naps from time to time to restore their energies. These parties emphasized the scale of local hospitality; but they were exhausting, both physically and financially. The excess that was involved in them derived from the paucity of alternative forms of relaxation and, to some extent, from the frustrations of life for the less privileged members of the local European community. For the men, particularly, a major source of these frustrations lay

200 SAMOA MO SAMOA in the circumstances of their employment. In government departments

nearly all local Europeans worked under New Zealand seconded officers. Among the latter a few of the departmental heads and a few of the more junior men were, at this time, both very competent and

sympathetic to their subordinates; but many more were mediocre and insensitive. The local men were somewhat hindered, in most cases, by a limited education and by a personal background that did not help to give them confidence in an administrative environment. They needed encouragement, if they were to learn to act quickly and

decisively. Above all, they were sensitive to any signs that their papdlagi seniors regarded them as inferiors. But there were amongst them many of considerable natural ability, since, as a consequence of the restricted opportunities for employment, the public service had long attracted a high proportion of the brightest boys leaving school. Despite their initial disadvantages, quite a few local officers did work of a quality of which their seniors were incapable. They did it often without either thanks or recognition, without the salaries (or fringe benefits, such as inexpensive government housing) that were necessary to attract even mediocre expatriates; and they were frequently treated

as inferiors. “We are not dirt’, one very capable young man once remarked to me; and speaking of his newly appointed New Zealand

superior, little older than himself, whose work he had previously done, he added: ‘I refuse to call him ““Mr’’, as he wants me to’. Often,

too, I encountered the fear in a local officer that he might have to shoulder the blame for his senior’s error. The seconded officers, they believed, would stick together, trusting one another because of what

they had in common, supporting one another when things went wrong.

In the overseas firms operating in the territory there was considerable variation in conditions. One major firm had an admirable record in its treatment of local staff; another had a record that made the public service look like a haven of opportunity and fair play.

Injustice not infrequently made the victims of it unworthy of further support. Men with a sense of grievance began to drink to excess, to arrive at work late and dishevelled, to be slack in the performance of their duties. When, as happened on many occasions, I was asked by a local public servant whether he should resign and go to New Zealand, I was sometimes forced to give the advice that I least liked giving. The Samoan public service urgently needed all the able local men—both Samoan and European—which it had. It needed, in

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 201 particular, to retain the younger men, whom it should have been possible to train for future responsibility. But, if disenchantment was already well set in, it seemed impossible not to say: “Yes, go; you will do better in New Zealand’. Eventually many—perhaps a majority— of them did leave. Among the Samoans there were few, if any, who experienced the

pressures of colonial society in quite the same way as did the less fortunate of the local Europeans. In certain respects, it is true, those leading Westernized lives were subjected to disabilities that did not affect Europeans. A few of these were legal, such as the requirement that a Samoan should obtain the consent of the High Commissioner before becoming a shareholder in an incorporated company.® Others were social: almost no Samoans, for example, had been accepted as

members of either of the two principal clubs, nor could a member take a Samoan to them as his guest. And the most widely felt were economic. The positions which Samoans held in the public service and in business were, with few exceptions, poorly paid. Since Samoan salary~earners generally experienced greater difficulty than did their local European counterparts in limiting their obligations towards their

diga, they often found it difficult to live adequately and remain solvent. On the other hand, they possessed a number of substantial advantages. They were accepted without qualification as part of the Samoan community: their success in government or business was regarded as a matter for general satisfaction, rather than as a basis for suspecting divided loyalties or the enjoyment of papdlagi favours. They had access, as of right, to their family lands, if they desired it. Finally, if the rewards and attractions of work in an office or a store came to seem insufficient, they could return to the life of the village, where their experience would be valued and where it could assist

them to attain both influence and prosperity. Samoans—unlike local Europeans—had little reason to contemplate emigration to New Zealand. My own life in Apia brought me into most frequent contact with

Samoans to whom these circumstances were of direct concern— politicians, men in business on their own account, and employees of government and of business firms. In the public service, Samoans were

scattered through all departments; but the most important groups of

them were employed in positions where governmental activity impinged directly upon the life of the Samoan people as a whole. The Department of Samoan Affairs had a number of experienced

202 SAMOA MO SAMOA Samoan officers, of whom the more senior were, as in the past, mainly members or affines of the Petaia family. Most of them were graded as interpreters and translators, though their actual duties ranged far more

widely. They supplied the department with much of its knowledge of affairs in the villages, received the constant flow of Samoan visitors seeking official action of one sort or another, and advised the head of the

department on the various matters with which he was accustomed to deal. In performing these duties they became functionaries in an essentially paternalistic system; and, in so far as they were content with merely filling this role, they cut themselves off from the more progressive circles in which the Samoa of the future was being planned. But the ablest of them possessed an unusual combination of qualities:

administrative experience coupled with a deep knowledge of, and

sensitive feeling for, the traditional culture. Through their professional contacts, they gained an intimate knowledge of opinion among the matai in all parts of the country.

Samoan medical practitioners* and Samoan school inspectors and teachers constituted groups of a different kind. Their professional preoccupations placed them on the side of change. Members of the

first group, particularly, had both a broader experience, gained initially from their period of training at the Central Medical School in Fiji, and a considerable public influence, based on general respect for their medical knowledge. Those in charge of medical out-stations were commonly listened to by the matai of the districts in which they were stationed in respect of matters ranging far beyond their formal responsibilities. Thus, like a few of the teachers, they introduced new ideas into the thinking of the villages.

Many Samoans had served the government in capacities such as these for a long period of years and regarded membership of the public service as a permanent career. But many others, after gaining a few years of useful experience, had left the service. The limited opportunities for promotion and the low level of salaries had always been factors conducive to eventual resignation. Moreover, when a man attained a matai title he had a further reason for returning to his * The term ‘Samoan Medical Practitioner’ (generally written with capital letters and abbreviated, in common usage, to ‘S.M.P.’) was applied to graduates of the Central Medical School, at Suva, Fiji. In some other Pacific territories the term ‘Assistant Medical Officer’ was applied to graduates of the school; and this

latter term more accurately defined their status. They possessed a licence to practise, as government employees, under the general supervision of officers with full medical qualifications.

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 203 village; and, during the prosperous conditions of the post-war period, when there was good money to be made both from trading and from planting, this reason was a particularly strong one. Many of the most

enterprising men in the outer districts were thus former public servants; and, since the attainment of political office was generally accepted as a hall-mark of success, several of these men had become Faipule.

To’omata Tua, who had recently completed his term as Leader of the Fono of Faipule, for example, had earlier been an officer of the Department of Native Affairs. On his return to Samata, in Savai’i, he had become a trader for one of the firms and, with the assistance of the financial resources which this placed at his disposal, had developed a successful cocoa plantation. He lived in considerable style, in a twostoreyed semi-European house equipped with electric light, refrigerator and radio. When he entertained official guests, he used his Chinese

plantation overseer as cook. His financial position and personal standing, coupled with his high rank, made him the unchallenged leader of Salega district and gave him considerable influence beyond it. To omata was perhaps the outstanding representative of this new class of matai, who combined some experience of the procedures of modern

government and a fair knowledge of English with economic success and strong political influence. But in a good many parts of Samoa there were former government clerks and teachers, policemen and radio-operators, who were achieving success as traders and planters and providing their communities with progressive leadership. The pastors ( faife’au) of the Samoan (L.M.S.) and Methodist churches constituted another group which possessed some contact with the ways

of thought of a wider world. As students, they had received an education that, despite its deficiencies of content and method, had been the best that Samoa could provide. Many were the sons of earlier pastors, in whose homes they had been taught to value book-learning; many had close relatives who were engaged in other non-traditional occupations, as teachers or as clerks; and some, in the L.M.S., had served as missionaries in other parts of the Pacific where the work of the church was less advanced. In the villages they occupied a position of dignity and influence comparable to that of English country parsons in earlier

times. But, like their English counterparts, they tended to complacency. They valued their social position in the village community,

which was as secure as that of the matai. And most of them were satisfied to possess an erudition that was, at any rate, greater than that

204 SAMOA MO SAMOA of their congregations. Only a minority showed an active desire to

keep abreast with modern thought, through reading or through drawing upon the knowledge of European missionaries. They were, in a sense, intellectual leaders in the villages in which they served, but leaders whose outlook was rather limited and whose influence was generally exerted upon the conservative side. Members of all these groups—politicians, public servants, progressive planters, traders and pastors—were in touch, in one way or another, with the practices and teachings of the modern world. It was almost inevitable, therefore, that my own closest associations were with them. But they were in no way representative of the interests and outlook of the Samoan people as a whole. In the villages most of the matai still sought to exercise their authority in very much the traditional way; and the taulele’a rendered them service in accord-

ance with custom. There had, of course, been changes of great significance. The forces that found expression within the framework

of custom had been affected by Christianity, by the impact of the money economy, by education and by the policies of government. But many of these changes were not easy to define and their impact had been an uneven one. Gradually, I came to understand their nature better; but it was only when I had the opportunity to devote a major part of my time to the detailed study of district and village affairs that I gained anything like an adequate appreciation of the texture of contemporary Samoan life.

These, then, were the people—Samoan and local European— who made up society in Western Samoa. Their interests and outlook, and the divergences between those of one group and another, provided the most important criteria against which every policy measure and, not less, the manner of its presentation, had to be assessed.

ONE class of decisions that had to be taken at this stage related to the structure of the administration. The establishment of the Council of State and the Legislative Assembly, and New Zealand’s commitment to continue the development of the territory towards self-government, made it essential that the administration should function effectively

as an instrumentality for the formulation and implementation of policy.

For more than twenty years—between the formation of the Mau

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 205 and the enunciation of new policy objectives in August 1947—the New Zealand government had expected the Administrator and his officers to do little more than maintain existing services along lines that had been evolved over the years. As a consequence of this, and of Turnbull’s long tenure of office (after serving as Secretary), a practice

had grown up whereby the Administrator had performed many duties that more properly belonged to the Secretary to the Administration, while the Secretary, in turn, had performed those of a chief clerk. The heads of the functional departments had acted as technical men, little concerned with the relationship between their work and

the over-all intentions of government. Often, when they needed advice, they had written direct to the corresponding department in New Zealand, without thinking it necessary to inform the Administrator of their action. Since the work of the departments was so largely of a routine character, and policy issues were seldom involved, this practice had only occasionally led to serious difficulties. Moreover, as most of the men who had held senior positions had possessed neither

the experience nor the capacity for thinking in terms of general or long-term policy, this lowly conception of administrative responsibilities had been accepted, generally, without remonstrance. But, under the changed conditions, reorganization had become imperative.

One significant change had been made shortly before my return to Samoa. The vacant position of Secretary to the Government had been offered to the then Treasurer, J. B. Wright. He had accepted it on

condition that he remained also titular head of the Treasury, so that he could bring about a better co-ordination of general and financial policy. The appointment of a Secretary-Treasurer—as Wright was styled—did not provide a permanent solution even to this particular problem of co-ordination: the range of duties of the combined post was too wide for one man to handle. But, in the absence of other co-ordinating machinery, it was, at least, a useful palliative. No less important was the fact that Wright’s action had resulted from his dissatisfaction with existing arrangements. Although his professional background was little broader than that of many others who had served in Samoa, he was a man with an unusually keen and critical mind, one who was never content to consider only the superficial symptoms of a deep-seated disorder, but sought always for its basic cause. Both in diagnosis and in seeking a remedy he was helped by a sensitivity and an unassertive good sense that won the co-operation of those with whom he worked. In his new position, he began to

206 SAMOA MO SAMOA draw also upon his increasingly wide reading, seeking to find lines of

approach to local problems in the recorded experience of other countries. To me, in particular, he was an invaluable colleague. We relied upon each other for criticism of our thinking which—certainly, on his side and, I hope, on mine—was always forthright and con-

structive but untinged by any element of personal pride. More generally, the wide range of his responsibilities was itself an assurance that the High Commissioner—unlike his predecessors—would receive advice that was both well-informed and unconfined within the limits of narrow, departmental routines.

The co-ordination of Secretariat and Treasury activities, at the policy level, left the Department of Samoan Affairs as the most important single impediment to effective administration. The separate

existence and the range of activities of this department were the results, like so much else in the Samoan administration, of mere unexamined growth over a long period of years. Its office was still at

Mulinu’u, and its responsibilities represented, in a real sense, the residue of those that had been performed by the Samoan governments of the nineteenth century, together with new ones that were considered to be no less closely concerned with the Samoan people.

Even some of its routines had their origins in that remote period. After German annexation, for example, Solf had driven regularly from Apia to Mulinu’u to keep his hand on ‘native affairs’, just as the president of the municipality had formerly done as political adviser to the Samoan king. By Schultz’s time—and perhaps earlier—these visits had begun to turn upon regular Wednesday morning sessions, when the Governor received Samoans who had requests or complaints to place before him. And as Wednesday morning visits, by the High

Commissioner, they still remained. The department and its work were thus based on a paternalistic conception of government that was entirely incompatible with the move towards self-government. In British colonial territories it had been accepted policy for a good

many years to wipe out separate ‘native departments’. In some colonies, where there was still the problem of reconciling modern political and administrative necessities with older, non-Western ways of thought and organization, a senior Secretariat officer was vested with this particular responsibility. In others, even this mark of respect to the paternalist tradition was no longer paid. The notion of ‘native affairs’ as a separate branch of government requiring to be handled by a special staff and department had thus almost disappeared. Current

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 207 thinking rightly emphasized, instead, that the ‘affairs’ of the bulk of the inhabitants of a country were the primary concern of the government as a whole. The situation in Fiji—the British colony with which we were in closest touch—showed, it is true, that the acceptance of the new attitude by a few senior officials and consequent admin-

istrative reorganization were not, in themselves, sufficient. A convention of paternalism among the rank and file could survive these changes and partly nullify their effect. But it was clear, at any rate, that unless Samoa followed British colonial practice not even a beginning

could be made in attacking the more deep-rooted aspects of the problem. As the first step in a campaign to secure the abolition of the Department of Samoan Affairs, I made a list of its multifarious functions: the High Commissioner’s “Wednesday mornings’ at Mulinu’u; the quasi-judicial work of the Secretary of Samoan Affairs in regard to Samoan land and titles; the position of the Resident Commissioner of

Savai’i; the work of translators and interpreters; the editing of the Savali (a gazette and news periodical in the Samoan language); the

organizing work for the Land and Titles Court; administrative duties in regard to various Samoan funds, local water-supply schemes,

etc.; organizing the elections and sessions of the Fono of Faipule; organizing public ceremonies, such as Flag-Raising Day. After I had obtained the agreement of the Secretary of Samoan Affairs, F. J. H. Grattan, to the accuracy of this list I added notes under each heading

showing how, in my opinion, most of the department's functions could be better performed by the Secretariat and the remainder— those concerned with the Land and Titles Court—by the Justice Department. These were embodied in a memorandum to the High Commissioner on the general problem of administrative reorganization. The central proposal in this memorandum was that for an enlarged

and reorganized Secretariat. I suggested that the Secretariat should contain four senior officers: the Secretary to the Government (as its head), the Secretary of Samoan Affairs, the Attorney-General,* and the Treasurer. This proposal was accepted by the High Commissioner, * The government’s sole legal officer at this time bore the title of ‘Crown Solicitor’; but a change to that of “Attorney-General’ was envisaged and was actually made several years later. The change marked, in part, a recognition of the greater volume and complexity of legal work, including a big increase in law drafting, resulting from the constitutional changes.

208 SAMOA MO SAMOA as a basis for discussion; and the Fautua and senior officers were informed of it. Up till the time that I myself left Samoa at the end of

1950 only relatively minor changes—such as the transfer of the Resident Commissioner of Savai’i and his staff to the Secretariat— were implemented. Apart from the personal factors involved, lack of accommodation in the Secretariat building imposed a barrier to reorganization. And my suggestions in respect of the Treasurer and the Attorney-General were never acted upon. Indeed, on the Treasury side, a move in the opposite direction was made during 1950, when Wright found it necessary to relinquish control of that department. But the most important change of all—the abolition of the Department of Samoan Affairs—was at once accepted as an objective to be worked for. In 1951 Grattan was given an office in the Secretariat, while retaining his separate department at Mulinu’u. In the following year, when he succeeded Wright as Secretary to the Government,* the process of absorbing the Samoan Affairs staff and functions in the

Secretariat was begun. In the New Zealand government's report on the administration of the territory for the latter year the word ‘paternalism’ was used officially and publicly for the first time in reference to the old system. The changes that were being made, it was stated, would create ‘a more modern type of administration where a single executive organ carries out the policy of the Government through a variety of functional Departments’. ‘It is hoped’— to quote the report—'that this projected change will . . . encourage a

less paternalistic outlook on government among Samoans. . . .’ Paternalism, that is, was at last accepted as an anachronism, but its long survival was blamed on the Samoans—despite the fact that they had been fighting it actively since Richardson’s time.

The centralization of the policy-making functions of the administration in the Secretariat was complemented by changes in the working relationship—as distinct from the legal and constitutional relationship—with New Zealand. During the politically critical period of 1946-8, the Department of External Affairs, rather than the

Department of Island Territories, had advised the New Zealand government on the more important policy questions concerning * J. B. Wright was appointed Secretary of Island Territories in Wellington, a position which he held till 1958, when he retired from the New Zealand Public Service. In 1960 he succeeded G. R. Powles as High Commissioner of Western Samoa; and in 1962, on the country’s attainment of independence, he became the first High Commissioner for New Zealand in Western Samoa, from which position he retired in 1965.

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 209 Samoa.* In terms of principle, this arrangement was justified by the

former department’s responsibility for relations with the United Nations. In practice, it had the advantage of placing Samoan matters in the hands of men who were capable of understanding them in the context of broad policy objectives. But, once the new Samoan constitution was fully in operation, the latter department, with its hampering conventions, had resumed its full role. As High Commissioner, Powles had more success than his immediate predecessors in resisting Wellington’s habit of intervening in minor local matters. Moreover,

he gradually displaced the Secretary of Island Territories as the Minister's principal adviser on Samoa. Locally, he insisted that his departmental heads must confine their direct communication with their

opposite numbers in New Zealand to purely technical matters. By these changes the form of executive control was made less inconsistent with the policy objective of preparation for self-government. But, though this reorganization was valuable in itself, it was also

intended as preparation for another reform: the establishment of an executive council, on which elected members of the legislature might gain experience to fit them for the introduction, somewhat later, of a ministerial system. Using the recent experience of British African colonies as our model, Wright and I sketched out a plan by which

this development might be introduced. We did not intend it for immediate adoption. For my own part, I knew that some of my Samoan friends viewed the possible offer of executive office with something like alarm: they did not feel that their ’diga and their districts were yet ready to accept the refusal of requests for special favours. But we took the view that the need for change might come more quickly than we then expected. And we accepted it as a primary

obligation of senior administrators to anticipate the demands of politics, wherever this was possible. In the event, the establishment * In 1943 legislation had been enacted to reorganize New Zealand’s administra-

tive arrangements in the fields of colonial administration and foreign policy. A Department of Island Territories was established to deal with Western Samoa and other dependencies. This department, therefore, assumed the responsibilities towards Samoa formerly vested in the Department of External Affairs that had been created by the External Affairs Act, 1919. At this time, a new Department of

External Affairs was established, with responsibility for the administration of foreign policy. This department was ‘virtually a new one although it bore an old name’ (A. D. McIntosh, “Administration of an Independent New Zealand Foreign Policy’, in T. C. Larkin (ed.), New Zealand’s External Relations (Welling-

ton, 1962), 34). The Department of Island Territories, on the contrary, was virtually an old one, although it bore a new name.

210 SAMOA MO SAMOA of an executive council was provided for in the Samoa Amendment Act, 1952; and the council began to function in the following year. Apart from the reorganization of the principal executive agencies

of government, one other administrative problem was of urgent importance at this stage: the control of the public service. This— alone among administrative questions—had been referred to in the Acting Prime Minister’s statement in August 1947. It had been thus singled out both because of its basic relevance to self-government and because its solution seemed, in outline at least, to be beyond dispute. The statement had declared that: The Samoan Public Service would be removed from the control of the New Zealand Public Service Commission, and an independent Public Service authority would be appointed in Samoa. It would be the special function of this new authority to find means of promoting local people, both Samoan and European to positions of responsibility as quickly as possible. In this connection both the New Zealand Government and the Samoan leaders are aware that promotion of local Civil servants to the higher posts depended (sic) upon our ability to push forward, as rapidly as possible, with our proposals for giving specialized training to officers already in the Samoan Public Service, and for providing young Samoans with the best possible education.’

The meaning of these sentences and, in the context of the statement

as a whole, the intention behind them had seemed completely unambiguous when they were drafted. Yet when I had been in Wellington in April 1949, on my way back to Samoa, I had learnt that this was not so. The intention to abolish remote control from Wellington

and to establish an authority in the territory which would be able, on the basis of first-hand knowledge, to select locally recruited men and women for training and promotion remained unperceived by the New Zealand Public Service Commission and the Department of Island Territories. What the statement meant, I was told, was simply that a public service authority would be established in the territory, completely independent of the High Commissioner and the Legislative

Assembly. And this, it was implied, was wholly admirable: could freedom from political influence—the single-minded ideal of Public Service Commissioners and their friends—go farther? In New Zealand the situation was fairly good, from this point of view; but the Cabinet was in a position to exercise considerable influence, if it wished to,

and Parliament could, by legislative act, alter or even abolish the commission itself. Under the system being planned for Samoa, the

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 211 High Commissioner and the Legislative Assembly would be completely powerless. Later in the year a draft bill constructed along these lines and revealing in some of its details a lamentable ignorance

of Samoan conditions was received by the High Commissioner. Within the few days that we were given for comment, before the bill’s introduction into the New Zealand Parliament, we produced a

series of suggested amendments, in order to eliminate the more obnoxious errors of detail; but there was little that we could do to alter the underlying principles. Under the Samoa Amendment Act, 1949—as the bill became in October—a Western Samoan Public Service was constituted and provision was made for its control by a Public Service Commissioner and two Assistant Public Service Commissioners. The commissioner was to be appointed by the Governor-General of New Zealand, and executive authority was vested wholly in him. Of the assistant commissioners, one was to be the Secretary of Island Territories and the other ‘a person appointed by the Governor-General on the nomination of the Council of State’ (who would be known as the Samoan Assistant Public Service Commissioner). The commissioner was given “all the powers necessary’ for the control of the public service. He was to be subject to the direction of the Minister of Island Territories in matters which, in the latter’s opinion, affected the policy of New Zealand as administering authority; but he was placed under no obligation even

to take cognizance of the policy of the government of Western Samoa. In regard to increased local participation in the service, the Act provided that: In the exercise of his functions the Public Service Commissioner shall,

consonant with the efficient conduct of the Government service of Western Samoa, have regard to the obligation of the administering authority under the trusteeship agreement to assure to the inhabitants of Western Samoa a progressively increasing share in the administrative and other services of the territory.®

Except when the Minister chose to exercise his power of direction, the commissioner was thus left more or less free to go his own way. In respect of Samoanization, for example, no specific duty—such as the institution of training courses—was imposed upon him. If, in his dealings with the Samoan government, he chose to be dilatory in agreeing to the establishment or regrading of important posts or in the filling of vacancies, or if he flatly refused to accept the government’s view of staffing needs, there was nothing that the government

212 SAMOA MO SAMOA could do directly to influence him. The emphasis of the Act was upon procedural correctness in the techniques of staff management— the preparation of grading lists, the fixing of salary scales, the making of regulations—not upon training or even upon efficient government.

In these circumstances, a great deal depended upon the personal calibre of the commissioner. For a small territory, such as Western Samoa, it is always difficult

to recruit expatriate officers with the imagination and judgement needed for a demanding and novel assignment, since salaries are necessarily lower than those of similar positions in larger countries.

None the less, the actual selection that was made must be held to reflect, in some degree, the thinking of those who were responsible for recommending it. The first Public Service Commissioner, who assumed office on 1 April 1950, had previously been an assistant commissioner of stamp duties in New Zealand. He had served in Samoa during the 1930s and had been one of those whom the Mau had named as being unacceptable to it and for whose removal it had asked.® He was succeeded in 1955 by an officer of the New Zealand Audit Office, also with previous Samoan service. Not surprisingly, in view of their backgrounds, both these men saw the routine duties imposed on them by the Act as the major part of their responsibilities.1°

In regard to appointments, they took their time in filling vacancies and tended to resent suggestions from the government as to the type of person needed for a particular post. As to Samoanization, a discouraging indication of the policy that would be followed was given in the first report of the commissioner's office. Referring to New Zealand’s obligation to promote local people, the commissioner wrote: ‘In fact, those locally born employees who have shown the necessary ability and strength of character have been filling increasingly responsible positions for a number of years’. For the future, he noted

only one proposal: he hoped soon, he wrote, to be able to raise the educational standard required for entry to the service.4! Thus, so soon after its establishment, the office of the Public Service Commissioner had set a tone of thought and action that, with only minor variations, was to dominate its activities till the eve of Samoan independence.

This virtual eclipse of one of the most important policy decisions of 1947 did not pass unnoted or uncriticized. Even in the performance of his routine duties, the commissioner fell short of the requirements prescribed by the Act: lists and returns were not completed on time, a fact that was angrily commented on by members of

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 213 the Legislative Assembly and by the Samoa Bulletin.* The United Nations missions of 1950 and 1953 both criticized the High Commissioner’s lack of power to issue directions to the Public Service Commissioner. The latter mission also referred to the issue of Samoanization. It cited the Samoan Assistant Public Service Commissioner as

having complained that posts ‘at the intermediate levels’ had been filled by recruitment in New Zealand and without being advertised in Samoa, despite his opinion that suitably qualified local candidates were available.2 And these public criticisms were but the smoke that gave visible sign of the fires of discontent which smouldered unseen within the ranks of the Samoan government itself. In August 1951—little more than a year after the commissioner had begun work—the Legislative Assembly appointed a Select Committee to ‘report on what amendments were necessary to the Samoa Amendment Act 1949 to make provision for the Assembly to take

part in the control of the Western Samoan Public Service’. The committee interpreted its brief as requiring it to suggest a remedy for ‘the present arrangement whereby the Public Service Commissioner is not in any way subject to local authority both as to his decisions or as

to policy matters generally . . .’. It did not consider itself bound to recommend any direct control by the assembly, nor did it, in fact, favour such a course. In its report, it contended that, under the existing

law, there were two independent ‘policy making’ authorities in Samoa, the High Commissioner and the Public Service Commissioner. The High Commissioner’s authority was limited locally by the powers of the Legislative Assembly; but the authority of the Public Service Commissioner was subject to no similar limitation. As a result of his position, the commissioner had been able to embarrass the executive

government and to create a feeling of uneasiness among public servants. To remedy this situation, the committee made three principal

recommendations. Firstly, it proposed that, in matters affecting the

policy of the government of Western Samoa, the Public Service * For example, see a signed article by the editor in the Samoa Bulletin, 13 Aug. 1954. He wrote, inter alia: The present Commissioner’s list of failings since 1950 are deplorable. It took him three years to produce draft regulations for the conduct of the service. In 1951 and 1952, the Legislative Assembly was promised a list of public servants and their salaries, but no lists were forthcoming. In 1953, the Assembly was forced to the measure of refusing to vote money for public service salaries until the Commissioner published the required list. The speed with which the list was then produced was

remarkable, and only served to throw into sharper relief, the Commissioner’s failures in the previous years. This year, as yet, no list has appeared and there is no indication that one will appear. H

214 SAMOA MO SAMOA Commissioner should be required to accept directions from the Executive Council, when it was formed. Secondly, it recommended that an appeal board composed of the Chief Judge (as president) and

representatives of public servants and the Samoan government should be constituted, to hear appeals by public servants against decisions of the commissioner. Thirdly, it proposed that regulations

made by the commissioner should be referred to the Executive Council before they were approved by the Minister. It was, thus, a responsible and conservative report, which commended itself to the assembly; but it fared less well in New Zealand. One proposal, indeed—that for an appeal board—was implemented in the Samoa Amendment Act, 1951, which received the assent a few days after the committee’s report was completed.* When legislation

was passed through the New Zealand Parliament in the following year to provide for the Executive Council, no action was taken, however, in regard to the two other—and crucially important— proposals. The administrative preparation of Samoa for self-government thus remained dependent upon the Minister’s power of issuing directions to the Public Service Commissioner. The original proposal

to vest control of the service in Samoa had been based upon the hypothesis that no control from Wellington, in this field, could be effective. By 1952—if not earlier—the correctness of this hypothesis had been abundantly proved. Four years later this seems to have been accepted even in Wellington, since, in the Samoa Amendment Act, 1956, authority for the issuing of ministerial directions was repealed. In its place was inserted a provision that was obviously intended as a gesture in the direction of the Samoan point of view. It read: *. . . in * In 1960 I gained some personal experience of the appeal board, to which I was appointed as deputy for the representative of public servants. The circumstances of my appointment were unusual. When an appeal was lodged against the appointment of an overseas candidate to the key position of Financial Secretary, it was realized that the term of office of the previous public service representative had expired and that the Public Service Commission had

failed to conduct an election, as required by law, for his replacement. The

executive of the Public Service Association was, therefore, asked to nominate a deputy. I was not, at that time, a member of the public service, nor even a permanent resident of Western Samoa; but, as the particular appointment had aroused much antagonism in the service and as there was intense interest in the appeal, the executive was anxious that the service should be strongly represented and asked me to accept nomination. The board allowed the appeal. The com-

mission did not think it improper to criticize publicly the board’s decision (see: ‘Annual Report of the Public Service Commission 1960’—Legislative Assembly of Western Samoa, Sessional Paper 1961, no. 24, 13-14).

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 215 the exercise of his powers, he [the Public Service Commissioner] shall at all times have regard to the policies and objectives of the Government of Western Samoa and of the Government of New Zealand as the administering authority’. But this was little more than a pious affirmation of intention, which the commissioner could interpret as he wished or ignore as he chose. Thus, behind the facade of sweet reasonableness, was erected the final triumph of the bureaucratic ideal.

As early as my first visit to Western Samoa in 1947, I had come to know young public servants—both Samoan and local European—

who were deeply interested in their work, highly intelligent and anxious to extend their knowledge. It had seemed obvious to me that an imaginative programme of training and of temporary secondment to New Zealand could fit some of them for rapid advancement in the service. My later experience as an officer of the Samoan public service

provided me with much fresh evidence that this was so. By 1951, when the select committee prepared its report, the position had been further improved by the return of the first group of ‘scholarship students’, who had as good an education as most of the expatriate officers. But by then the Public Service Commissioner sat astride the path of progress, unimaginative, self-righteous, enmeshed in the coils of punctilio and routine. Some of the most promising local men left

the service, others became discouraged. Samoa was forced to go forward to independence inadequately provided with the corps of experienced administrators that forms so essential a part of any sound system of government.*

on the political side the situation was far more satisfactory. The Council of State, by its very existence, provided acceptable evidence of New Zealand’s changed attitude towards Samoan aspirations; and, by its deliberations, it brought about a fuller and franker exchange of views than had previously been possible between the High Commissioner, as the representative of New Zealand, and the Fautua, as * One of the signatories of the 1929 report on finances and staff was the then New Zealand Public Service Commissioner, P. Verschaffelt. His successors had a large part in determining the powers of the Public Service Commissioner of Western Samoa and in recommending appointments to that office. It can, therefore, be said that, over a period of more than thirty years, the New Zealand public service authorities exercised an influence upon Samoan government that was almost wholly unfortunate.

216 SAMOA MO SAMOA the acknowledged leaders of the Samoan people. The Fono of Faipule functioned, with some increase in effectiveness, as a link between the government and the people of the villages. And, most important of all, the Legislative Assembly provided the people's representatives both with substantial control over immediate policy and with training in the art of government. The Legislative Assembly, unlike the old Legislative Council, met at Mulinu’u, in a Samoan-style fale that had been erected originally for the Fono of Faipule; and this place of meeting—at the seat of so many earlier Samoan governments—tended to emphasize its importance in Samoan eyes. Across one end of the fono house sat the members

of the Council of State—the High Commissioner (as President of the assembly) and the two Fautua. Down one side sat the eleven Samoan members. On the opposite side sat the five European members and the six official members. In the middle was placed the interpreters’ table. All proceedings were conducted in both Samoan and English. As a matter of propriety, the Fautua and the Samoan members always spoke in their own language. During discussions of intricate legal or economic questions, those of them who were bi-lingual could some-

times be observed struggling to find a Samoan term that would express not too inexactly an idea with which they were familiar in English; but only once during my period of membership—when Tofa Tomasi finally came out with the words “economic stabilization’ —did a Samoan member use English in debate. The European members, like the High Commissioner and official members, spoke wholly

in English. Only if there was some imprecision in the subsequent interpretation would members occasionally contribute a phrase or a sentence in the language used by the other side of the house. Although the Samoan members did not sit as representatives of any

political party, they constituted a well-defined group. The practice of private discussion before formal debate—so well developed in traditional Samoan politics—was maintained in relation to the work of the assembly. Frequently the Samoan members would meet, under the chairmanship of the Fautua, before the day’s sitting of the assembly began. At these meetings, agreement would not necessarily be reached; but the range of disagreement would, at any rate, be clarified. Sometimes motions would be drafted, movers and seconders be agreed on,

and the general lines of argument be sketched out.

Within the assembly, the role of the Fautua differed from that of their Samoan colleagues. Their position in Samoan society, as well

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 217 as their official position, gave them great influence with the Samoan

members and, only to a slightly lesser degree, with the European members. But it was an influence that carried with it the obligation to exercise restraint. It could be used in major issues or to restore harmony but not, without danger, to advance a controversial viewpoint on a lesser matter. On one occasion during my time in the assembly, for example, one of the Fautua asked two Samoan members to withdraw an amendment to the Public Works Department estimates which they had moved and seconded. The mover, Tofa Tomasi, in a statement

agreeing to the request, managed to convey his sense of outrage that the influence of a Fautua should be so misused. The mistake was not repeated. Among the European members there was a much weaker feeling of their identity as a group. Though four of them had been elected as representatives of the United Citizens’ Party, this allegiance became of

relatively minor significance once they had entered the assembly;

and the fact that the fifth member, Amando Stowers, had been elected as a candidate of the rival Labour Party was equally unimportant. Except when they were asked for some corporate decision, such as a nomination for membership of a committee, they acted mainly as individuals, though as individuals with many common interests and considerable mutual regard.

The position of the official members in a colonial legislature is always a difficult one. Their unity as a group is mainly an imposed one, a consequence of their obligation to support government policy.

Moreover, members who are, in their ordinary duties, the heads of technical departments seldom feel either free or inclined to discuss matters unrelated to their professional responsibilities. The more professionally constricted of them thus come to be seen, at best, as advocates of a cause that is not their own or, at worst, as marionettes

who merely rise to vote at their master’s call. The situation in the Legislative Assembly was, within these limits, a relatively favourable one. Four of us—the Secretary-Treasurer (J. B. Wright), the Secretary of Samoan Affairs (F. J. H. Grattan), the Crown Solicitor and I—had

some concern with matters of general policy and could, without impropriety, speak on most subjects. Only two—the heads of the Health Department and the Education Department—felt that their position was that of specialists. Yet our contribution was, on the whole,

an undistinguished one. Elected members sometimes complained in private that their official colleagues concealed facts that would be

218 SAMOA MO SAMOA embarrassing to the government or advanced arguments, under instruction, that they did not personally accept. More often they felt that official speeches ‘said nothing’. The creation of this impression was the result of several factors. Official members were representatives

of the executive government, for whose conduct final responsibility rested with the High Commissioner. For this reason, and because they were not politicians by training or inclination, they tended to present facts baldly and to avoid relating them to the broad issues of policy that interested the elected members. Further, one or two official members consistently underestimated the critical ability of the assem-

bly. In an endeavour to counter one type of criticism, the High Commissioner contended that we had, in fact, the freedom of other members—a freedom which, in relation to matters of policy, it would have been unwise, if not improper, for him to concede to us. But his obvious displeasure when, on one or two occasions, I myself exercised

it on matters that I deemed to be unconnected with policy seemed to prove his contention to be incorrect. The High Commissioner himself took a major part in debate. Unlike the governors of many British colonies moving towards selfgovernment, he did not leave the major responsibility for expounding and defending government policy to his senior executive officer (in

this case, the Secretary-Treasurer). Though, in theory, this course seemed to me to be rather risky, in practice, it worked satisfactorily. The assembly knew no other convention; and Powles’s energy and ability enabled him to speak well on most subjects that came up. When I first took my seat as an official member, in June 1949, the

assembly was in session mainly for consideration of the budget. Within a very short period, therefore, I was able both to hear members’

views on most aspects of government activity and to form some impression of the assembly’s effectiveness. The importance of the standing committees which had been set up in accordance with 1947 intentions was, for example, very soon apparent. At this stage four such committees were functioning and were concerned, respectively,

with finance, health, education and public works. Each committee was composed of three Samoan members, one European member and one official member of the assembly. Two committees had elected the official member as chairman. Samoan members chaired the other two. The Health, Education and Public Works Committees had acquainted themselves with the physical activities of the departments with which they were concerned, by visiting hospitals, schools

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 219 and current public works projects. The Finance Committee had studied the problems of the Treasury. The most important task of all of

them had been, however, the careful examination of the annual estimates. As a result, committee members were both able and willing

to defend the proposals that they had helped to frame when they came before the assembly.

‘Being a member of the Finance Committee’, Tofa Tomasi said, ‘I have a lot to do with the estimates; I am very much concerned in all that is going on in regard to the expenditure.’!® And in various speeches he defined an attitude towards public expenditure that sought

to reconcile the need for development with provision for a possible period of depression. In brief, his argument was that expenditure to promote education and health and to stimulate production should not be delayed, since, in addition to its immediate utility, it would increase

the country’s capacity to weather a period of stringency relatively unharmed. On the other hand, some major public works might well be delayed till less prosperous times, when this form of public expenditure would provide a valuable stimulus to the whole economy. Tofa’s view was a more sophisticated one than that of most of his colleagues; and it owed a lot to his reading of modern—if somewhat elementary—economics. But it reflected the general confidence of the abler members of the assembly that, in broad outline at least, the

control of expenditure was in their own hands. The older attitude, now expressed mainly by Amando Stowers,* that all proposals for expenditure were to be regarded with suspicion had been rendered obsolete through the association of unofficial members with the preparation of the estimates. The newer attitude was exemplified quite early in the session, when

the expenditure proposed under one item in the Education Department’s estimates came under fire. The Superintendent of Schools,t K. R. Lambie, worsened the position by an implied depreciation of * “While I am on the floor, Sir, may I be permitted to say that I never deviate from my position of critically criticising our expenditure. ... Now, this morning my friend the Hon. Superintendent of Schools has accused me of crying out “Wolf! Wolf!’. If I had not said that in the past I do not think we would have

been in such a happy position as we are now. I am only sorry that the Hon. Superintendent of Schools will not be with us when the ““Wolf” does come. I feel sure that the Hon. Gentleman will be safe in New Zealand and the poor Samoan people here will suffer the consequences.’ (AD, 21 June 1949, 33.) + This title was later changed to the more usual Director of Education. At the

same time, the head of the Health Department was changed from Chief Medical Officer to Director of Health.

220 SAMOA MO SAMOA members in his reply. ‘Sir’, he began, ‘I am speaking now on behalf of the boys of Avele and Vaipouli [schools] because there is no one here to speak for them.’ But the more progressively-minded members were not willing to support a reduction in the item merely because the original proposal had been inadequately, and somewhat tactlessly, defended. Tofa Tomasi, therefore, asked that Lambie should give details of how the money would be spent. “On my part’, he said, ‘I do not wish to take part in any voting if I am not aware of . . . the actual facts.’ As soon as these had been supplied, a suggestion was made

that the sum provided should not be reduced but that the explanation of the item, in detail, should be brought into line with them. This was supported by members of the Education Committee, who went out of their way to praise Lambie’s work as their chairman; and it was formally adopted by the assembly. Unofficial members felt it to be their duty to ensure the detailed accuracy of the estimates but not to reject defensible proposals. They did not—as in the old Legislative Council—conceive of themselves as, in any sense, an opposition to the government.!® It seemed to me that the only major weakness in members’ handling

of the estimates was the tendency of some, though not of the ablest, of them to dwell unduly on points of detail, to the neglect of major issues of policy or principle. This is, of course, a weakness characteristic

of inexperienced, but conscientious, politicians anywhere. But, with the considerable change in membership of the Samoan Legislative Assembly at each election, and in the absence of a party system, it has

proved to be a weakness particularly difficult to overcome. As a result, a great deal of time has been spent in most years in the discussion of points of only minor importance. To some extent, official practice has itself encouraged this waste of time. Getting into difficulties when it has provided less detail than members desired, the government

has tended to err in the other direction, so that the assembly has been

given the opportunity of solemnly debating whether a particular department needed new typewriters or an additional motor vehicle.

More generally, I found that the budget debate brought out a number of the underlying preoccupations of members. Discrimination

by the government between Samoans and local Europeans was repeatedly referred to, for example, by Samoan members. Their passionate concern with this issue was rooted, in the main, in painful memories of past injustices. For some members—particularly those, like Tualaulelei Mauri, who had lived most of their lives in Apia—

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 221 these memories were intense and personal; but, for all, they were well documented. What justification could there be, a member would ask,

for requiring a Samoan who wished to enjoy the superior amenities of a European ward at the Apia hospital to make a payment in advance, when a European would be admitted to such a ward automatically? Why should there be a government school in Apia for Europeans only, where English was taught by New Zealand teachers,

and a separate school for Samoans? How could the government defend its maintenance of separate salary scales for European and Samoan policemen? As one member said, ‘It is the profound wish of the Samoan Members of the Assembly that wherever we work and whatever we do we must work together and co-operate instead of discriminating between sections of the community’.1? To Amando Stowers, this attitude was both comprehensible and deeply troubling.

His close contact with the poorer sections of the local European community made him fearful of any further deterioration in their position. It was true, he admitted, that Europeans could enter Apia hospital without advance payment; but was it not also true that many of them were plagued, sometimes for years, by hospital bills they

could not pay? Was it not true that, despite any privileges they might enjoy, many of them were under-paid or unemployed? As a man of compassion, as well as of some political adroitness, he urged

that the needs of all the people of Samoa should be considered together; and, for a scapegoat, he picked on the New Zealand officials, whom he described—in his more impassioned moments—as overprivileged, inefficient and insensitive to the welfare of the people. In fact, some officials still did accept the old paternalist conventions.

These men could not see the necessity, or even the possibility, of abandoning the distinction between Samoans (‘natives’), local Europeans (‘half-castes’) and themselves. But their views were not shared by the High Commissioner or by the more influential of his officers. The real problem was that of clearing away the legal and administrative

lumber that had been inherited from the past. This was a task that inevitably took time. Up to a point, the steady pressure of the Samoan

members helped to ensure that it was undertaken. But some of the more important forms of discrimination had been intended originally to protect the Samoans, not to penalize them; and, where the establishment of equality involved the removal of protection that many still

valued, Samoan opinion was divided. The initiative in proposing reform had to come, in part, from the government itself.

222 SAMOA MO SAMOA The legal basis for discrimination was the use of the terms ‘Samoan’

(or ‘Native’) and ‘European’ in the law of the territory.* The most important instances of this distinction were those relating to political rights—reflected in the composition of the assembly itself—and to land tenure. And, in these matters, Samoan opposition to change was strong and almost universal. Among the lesser instances of pro-

tective discrimination, only that relating to trade debts was the subject of active controversy. Under the provisions of the Native Trade Debts Ordinance, 1925, a Samoan could not, except in special

circumstances, be sued for the recovery of such a debt. The more progressive Samoan members of the assembly (‘we three’, as Tualaulelei

referred to himself, Tofa and Fonoti) believed that this form of protection had undesirable consequences, both economic and social. I discussed the matter with them privately on a number of occasions;

but, even in this case, the feeling was that the time had not quite arrived for a frontal attack on the Ordinance in the assembly. More generally, my own instructions required me to consider means for the

development of a common domestic status for Samoans and Europeans; but, in the existing state of opinion, there was little that could be done. Other subjects which members discussed with particular interest during my first session were district and village government, agriculture and education. On education, Amando Stower’s views were conspicuous because of their divergence from those of his colleagues. As a man who had grown up when schools were few and as a rather limited, though devout, Roman Catholic, he resented the increase in expenditure on government schools. “The educated people’, he said on one occasion, ‘have let the world into two world wars and unless

God intervenes, we will be in a third war very soon. Therefore our education should be correct and we should educate our people to know, love and serve God first and then love their neighbours as themselves

for their love of God.’ In Samoa, some of those who had been educated had become merely ‘discontented manual workers . . . doing

a lot of harm’. Now, the government was increasing educational facilities beyond the capacity of the country to pay for them, while, * The term ‘Native’ had been replaced by ‘Samoan’ in normal official usage after the New Zealand policy statement of August 1947. The Department of Native Affairs, for example, had been renamed Department of Samoan Affairs. But the term ‘Native’ remained in the text of many legal enactments, in the title of various offices, etc., till the Samoa Amendment Act, 1951, provided for its general replacement by ‘Samoan’.

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 223 at the same time, many parents who realized ‘their responsibility towards their creator’ sent their children to private schools. ‘I am sure the Assembly will agree with me’, he concluded, ‘that it is not fair to penalize the parents of those who educate their children according to the principles of their faith.’!8

Other Catholic members, such as Tupua Tamasese and Tofa Tomasi, did not share this distaste for government schools. Instead, like their Protestant colleagues, they sought to encourage all soundly

based educational efforts and recognized that the government’s expenditure must be primarily devoted to its own schools. Increased education was seen as the key both to personal and to national advancement. As one member said, ‘I think you will all agree with me that Education is the first stepping stone towards self-government’.1® A number of members had positive suggestions to make—for the improvement of education in the outer districts, for the establishment of more consolidated schools (in place of village schools), for the development of the proposed Samoa College.

My own first major speech in the assembly was made during a discussion of the work of Samoan district and village officials, including

the pulefa’atoaga and pulenu’u. Members were dissatisfied with the performance of these officials and with the looseness of the relationship between the central government and the people in the villages. I fully shared this dissatisfaction and argued that, in a period of rapid political

advance, it was particularly important that the government should ‘be able to harness all the loyalty and sense of duty of the people’. In Samoa, where so much of the people’s loyalty was centred upon their particular districts and villages, the attainment of this objective required, I contended, a considerable devolution of authority in matters that could be effectively handled at the local level. A satisfactory policy of decentralization could be worked out only if Samoans

and expatriate officials worked closely together, sharing their knowledge and experience and accepting the differences of outlook that

derived from their very different cultural backgrounds. We New Zealanders, I suggested, did not find it easy to understand Samoan custom. We have been brought up to accept a custom very different... . In New Zealand the position of an individual tends to depend on the extent to which he can thrust himself up by his own efforts. In Samoa, as we know, it depends upon social status and the duties that go with different ranks.

224 SAMOA MO SAMOA New Zealand custom has been suited to a country where people have had to work as pioneers. . . . Samoan custom on the other hand has protected a stable social order. . . . In some respects we Europeans with our

different experiences can contribute substantially to the solution of the problems of Samoa in a time when Samoa is itself changing... . To take this particular subject of giving a proper place to the Pulenu’u and other district and village officials as an example, the Samoan Members

of this Assembly have a fuller knowledge than we have of the way in which the chiefs and people of Samoa feel about the responsibilities and status of these officials; many of us New Zealanders on the other hand have experience of how local Government institutions work in other countries at the present time.

I suggested that, by pooling our knowledge, we should be able to devise an effective system of district and village government. ‘If we do so,’ I concluded, “we shall . . . have taken one of the most important

steps towards reaching that time, in a not very distant future, when a Samoan Government will be able to assume complete responsibility for conducting the affairs of this country.’?° I had spoken because local government was a subject that I intended to tackle, in collaboration with Samoan colleagues, and was anxious to stimulate public interest in it before the time came for proposing a definite course of action. My remarks had been dispassionate, almost academic. They had contained nothing that was significantly original. But, in the context of official speeches in the assembly, several of the points that I had made had been unusual. I had spoken of Samoan custom with sympathy, not with condescension, and had disavowed— not only on my own behalf but also on that of my official colleagues— the role of an expert in relation to it. I had spoken of co-operation

on terms of equality between officials and unofficials, not of the ‘white man’s burden’. And I had related the subject under discussion to the ultimate political objective of self-government. Largely because of these points of emphasis, it would seem, my speech was received by the Samoan members with unusual satisfaction. From this time my position in the assembly began to diverge somewhat from that of my official colleagues. Unofficial members came

to regard me as an individual, rather than as a spokesman for the official establishment. This was a result, in part, of the special character of my appointment and of my close personal association with some of

the unofficials; but, in part also, I think, it was a consequence of my natural liking for the work of the assembly. From my own point of

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 225 view, this situation greatly increased my capacity to do useful work. It led directly, for example, to my nomination by Samoan members to select committees to examine the customs tariff and currency problems

respectively and to my later appointment as chairman of both committees.2! From the point of view of the High Commissioner, it had some advantages. During the 1950 budget session, for example, he asked me to handle the estimates of the Broadcasting Department, since he felt than an unusual effort of persuasion would be needed to

get them accepted. But more often, I think, he regarded it as an embarrassment. When I had been the spokesman on a particular issue, it became somewhat more difficult for him later to change his mind.

Once—but, I think, only once—an impromptu speech of mine placed me in grim disfavour.

During the discussion of the budget in 1950, G. F. D. Betham contrasted the large expenditure of government funds on the provision

of houses for expatriates with the housing problem faced by local officers. He suggested that, with a view to economy, consideration should be given to the building of flats. This not unreasonable proposal

produced such ill-humoured comment from some official members that I rose to its defence.?? I admitted, as Betham had done, that it was

necessary to provide accommodation for married expatriates but contended that existing arrangements created unnecessary ill-feeling.

While many married local officers were forced to live with their parents or other relatives, or to spend an excessive proportion of their

salaries on rent, government houses were being provided at about one-fifth of their economic rental and being left vacant for long periods when their occupants were on furlough. I suggested that consideration

should be given to the raising of rentals and the institution of an allowance payable to all married officers. In my remarks I referred to the existing nominal rentals of government houses as constituting a “concealed increment’ to the salaries of the beneficiaries. This phrase noticeably heightened the tension.

When I finished speaking, the High Commissioner adjourned the assembly, a little prematurely, for lunch. In the afternoon, he tried to explain away the points I had made and suggested they were matters,

in any case, for the Public Service Commissioner. The Samoan members rallied to the support of my argument. Tofa, in particular, presented some detailed calculations to show that government rentals produced considerably less than one-fifth—the figure I had given— of a normal economic return. He insisted that the subject was one for

226 SAMOA MO SAMOA the assembly and offered to second a motion on it, if I wished to move one. For my part, I was compelled to let the matter rest. But outside the assembly it aroused animated interest. The following weekend, when visiting Leulumoega, I was formally thanked by several of the matai; and, till I left Samoa, the subject was not infrequently referred to by local people in various parts of the territory. On the official side, the story circulated—among some of the more

limited New Zealanders—that I had been mainly concerned with ingratiating myself with my local friends.

For both sides, it was the words ‘concealed increment’ that had crystallized feelings. Ever since German times local people had been critical of the privileges enjoyed by expatriate officials; and the latter had reacted by treating any comment upon them as an act of hostility.

Even in this period of political amity my chance use of a phrase which, though succinct, had emotional overtones had been sufficient to revive something of the passion of this deep-rooted antagonism.

THE element of continuity in Samoan politics was represented most fully by the work of the Fono of Faipule. Though its members were not insensitive to the more confident and progressive political atmosphere of the times, their response to it was a cautious one. They

examined any proposal for innovation in relation to older values and older objectives.

Since 1940 the Fono had consisted of forty-one members chosen in accordance with the provisions of the Faipule Election Ordinance, 1939. Under the Ordinance, the matai of each constituency were empowered ‘to elect or choose in such manner as they think fit’ a Faipule to hold office for a three-year term; and, having made their

choice, they were required to forward it in a written submission containing the signatures of more than half the electors. In practice, traditional forms of consultation and discussion had been used as a means of attempting to arrive at a single nomination. In a few constituencies the dominant influence of a single holder of a high title, or of a small group of important matai, had simplified the process of selection; but in most it had presented a very considerable difficulty. Many constituencies had resolved the problem by adopting a system of rotation, under which different villages or groups of villages took turns in making the nomination. This system was useful as a means of

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 227 maintaining amicable relations within the constituency; but it was hampering in its effects upon the level of discussion within the Fono. At the first three elections after the passing of the Ordinance more than half the constituencies had returned a different man as Faipule on each occasion. But the consequences of these drastic changes in membership had been mitigated by the continued return of a small number of Faipule of ability, such as To’omata, the former Leader, and Te’o Simaile, the representative of Falealili.* Men such as these, with experience of commerce and planting and a record of effective leadership in their own districts, combined with several terms in the Fono, were able to give considerable guidance to their colleagues. Moreover, the changes in membership had brought into the Fono a

gradually increasing number of Faipule with some grasp of the problems of the modern world. At this time the most notable of the newly elected members was ’Anapu Solofa, the Faipule for Safata. "Anapu, a man then in his forties, had been elected to his title, the principal one of Sa’anapu village, as a youth. He had held important posts in the central organization of the Mau, as a relatively young man; and, later, he had served as one of the first Samoan associate judges. In his district, he had both taken a leading part in its public affairs and been active as a trader and cocoa planter. In his interests and his outlook he was thus the kind of maa to whom the Fono had increasingly been looking for guidance; and it had elected him as its Leader.

The most significant change that was made in the procedure of the

Fono of Faipule at this time arose out of its difficulties in 1948 in selecting the Samoan members of the Legislative Assembly. The Faipule reached the conclusion that selections as members of the assembly or for other offices could most properly be made by ballot. The new procedure was used for the first time in 1949, when the Fono had to select two judges to serve for a three-year term in the Land and

Titles Court and as associate judges of the High Court. The Chief Judge had asked that the present judges should be reappointed, in order that their experience and proven ability should not be lost to the judiciary. Conservative Samoan opinion, on the other hand, still favoured the system of rotation. The introduction of a ballot solved * Te’o, who has taken a leading part in Samoan politics in more recent years, was subsequently elected to several other titles of importance. He is referred to later in this book, in accordance with current Samoan usage, as Leutele Te’o and as Tuatagaloa Leutele Te’o. He also holds a fourth title, Satele.

228 SAMOA MO SAMOA the dilemma. In announcing the decision of the Fono to the High Commissioner, ’Anapu said: We picked out five names including some of the people who have been

in the work of the Court before, and also including the names of the present Judges, and one or two from this Fono. We . . . voted by ballot and these two headed the list—Seumanutafa Lafaialii, and Tagaloa. We did this honestly before God, and this is His work. Will you please convey our repect to the Chief Judge on this. If the present Judges Matai’a and Amiatu came first in the ballot we would have been just as happy.*

In the Samoa Amendment Act, 1949, provision was included for an increase in the Samoan membership of the Legislative Assembly “by

one for every one by which the number of Samoan members of the Council of State is less than three’. Since there were only two Samoan

members of the Council of State, Tupua Tamasese and Malietoa Tanumafili II, the Fono of Faipule was required to elect an additional

member of the assembly. On this occasion, also, the procedure of holding a ballot was followed. A substantial number of nominations

was received. As the Fono had not yet learnt of the procedure of holding a succession of ballots, or of preferential voting, the successful

candidate, Gatoloai Peseta, was elected on about a fifth of the votes cast. But the decision seems to have been accepted by the Fono as a whole in a similar spirit to that which had marked ‘Anapu’s remarks

on the election of the two judges. A procedure had been adopted which, despite its defects, was better suited to modern conditions than the traditional one. Another change—one that was indicative of the Fono’s greater confidence in the government—was the growth of general discussion

during formal sessions under the chairmanship of the High Commissioner. It was no longer felt that the presentation of a diversity of views would weaken Samoan influence on an essentially alien govern-

ment. Instead, as differences were now concerned with matters of method and timing, rather than with fundamental objectives, it was considered desirable to present a comprehensive account of opinion on important issues. The fact that the range of opinion in the Fono included much that was characteristic of conservative thinking in * Proceedings of Fono of Faipule, 9 Sept. 1949. The new judges chosen by the Fono were later warmly praised by the Chief Judge (see C. C. Marsack, Samoan Medley (London, 1961), 137, 144-5). The Fono, for its part, became more sympathetic to Judge Marsack’s views on tenure. Tagaloa died in office, and Seumanutafa was still a judge when the Fono of Faipule went out of existence in 1957.

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 229 the outer villages, but inapplicable to modern governmental necessities,

provided a salutary note of caution in a time of rapid change.

MANY of the contacts I made myself with both members of the assembly and Faipule developed into warm friendships and helped to deepen my understanding of the Samoan scene. Social contacts in-

cluded not only those in Apia but visits to Samoan friends in their home villages at weekends, which provided opportunities for leisurely discussion and for meeting a wider circle of village people. Moreover,

quite a number of Samoan politicians made a practice of dropping into my office to talk about particular problems. I was fortunate, too, in that, a few months after my arrival, the Fautua moved into offices immediately adjacent to my own and often drew me into discussions in which they were engaged. In these ways, most of the interests and preoccupations of the Samoans were traversed from the points of view of the old and the young, the conservative and the radical, but always in an atmosphere of frankness and informality. Much was said in confidence that could not be repeated in our public capacities, so that I came to understand the manoeuvres of politics in the context of a way of thinking that I found intellectually sophisticated and morally responsible.

One friendship I valued particularly was that with Tofa Tomasi. At Faleasi’u, some fifteen miles west of Apia, he had built beside his house and store a Samoan fale with a view westward along the coast of Upolu to the hills of Savai'i in the distance. There, as the sun sank beneath the western ocean and far into the ensuing evening, we often sat talking. He told me of the yearning he had felt as a boy of part-German descent to identify himself completely with his Samoan friends and of his participation in their adolescent adventures, of his life as a trader in Falealili as a young man, of the intellectual opportunities that accompanied his internment in New Zealand during the war, of his decision to take Samoan status. ‘I remember vividly’, he once said, ‘the first time I went into the bank wearing a Javalava; but I felt no embarrassment, only a sense of pride.’ But, not long afterwards, he had woken in the night convinced that someone had been about to shoot him through the window. Was this, I suggested,

the result of a suppressed feeling of guilt at his abandonment of his German heritage? He did not think so; but the incident had

230 SAMOA MO SAMOA encouraged him to leave Apia for the serener atmosphere of the village of Faleasi’u. Now, as a matai and a successful trader and politician, his life was straightforward, relatively free of conflict.

‘I often wonder,’ he said, “why I am in politics. I think I am a sufficiently honourable man to do what I genuinely believe to be in the interests of the country, since I am in politics. But I am sure that is not why I am there. As far as I can tell, my main motive has been a desire to influence people.’ And he admitted the excitement he

always felt in rising before the Legislative Assembly to expound a novel point of view confident that before he finished he would have convinced his colleagues of the importance of what he had said. This introspective streak was linked with an essentially intellectual approach to the problems of government. He gained so much satisfaction from analysing the factors for and against a particular course of action that, occasionally, he failed to come down clearly on either side. But such

indecision was rare and was far more than outweighed by the beneficial effects of his taste for rigorous analysis.

In politics his methods were subtle. He ordinarily observed the Samoan conventions punctiliously. He did so from natural sympathy; but he contended that such orthodoxy had its special rewards for a man like himself who retained some measure of detachment. An occasional show of bluntness, from its very contrast to the urbanity and indirectness of normal debate, could achieve more in Samoa than it would have done in a country where conventions were less elaborate and aristocratic. This mixture of involvement and of critical detachment had been well shown in his actions to ensure his initial election

to the assembly; but it was equally characteristic of much of his political work. It assisted him to maintain his stand as an advocate of progressive economic and administrative policies without losing the support of the traditional Samoa, epitomized for him by the fono at Leulumoega, the political centre of his own district of A’ana.

Tofa’s understanding of the conflict between the modern and the traditional in Samoa was unusually complete. It had its origin both in his capacity for careful analysis and in the unusual quality of his personal experience. But the problems with which he was con-

cerned were those of Samoan society, not only of people such as himself. Through contact with him, and with men such as Tupua Tamasese, I gained not only added comprehension but a more intimate sense of involvement in the affairs of Samoa.

For me, this admission into the private worlds of thought of the

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 231 Samoan leaders had an unexpected outcome when, early in September 1949, the Fautua asked me whether I could stay permanently in Samoa.

The subject was raised again, several times, by them alone and in conjunction with the Samoan members of the Legislative Assembly.

For my own part, I was anxious to continue my association with Samoan political development, but permanent residence in Samoa did not seem practicable. I said I would be happy to return for several months each year, if I could obtain leave from my university. Even

this proposal, it soon became apparent, would be very difficult to arrange. It was bound to be unpopular in official circles in Samoa, since even my present position tended to detract from the freedom of action of the High Commissioner. A decision in New Zealand by the Minister could alone have made it feasible. At the end of November 1949 the Labour Party was defeated in a general election; and in the

new government the portfolio of Island Territories was held by a man with whom I had had no personal contact. The change of government in New Zealand made it clear that the effectiveness of my work in Samoa would depend even more on the

support of the Fautua and of local politicians, both Samoan and European.

BY the time of Peter Fraser’s vacation of office, his objective in Samoa

had been largely attained. Local leaders would inevitably exercise the major influence in the determination of future change. Only in a few matters—such as the vexed question of control of the public service—was there a marked divergence between the New Zealand and Samoan points of view. Similarly, United Nations supervision did not bear heavily upon the country. Each year the Trusteeship Council examined the annual report submitted by New Zealand as administering authority and made its recommendations; and in 1950 the territory was visited by the first of the council’s regular threeyearly Visiting Missions to Trust Territories in the Pacific. The influence which the United Nations exercised in these ways was a mild and sympathetic one. New Zealand’s necessarily minor role in international politics provided little incentive to the engineering of attacks on her administrative record. Moreover, Fraser had built up considerable goodwill towards his country by his enthusiastic support

for the trusteeship system; and this had been consolidated both by

232 SAMOA MO SAMOA the radical reforms that had been made in Samoa after the visit of the

1947 mission and by the co-operative attitude of New Zealand representatives on the Trusteeship Council. Beyond that again, the 1947 mission had created, within both the council and the Trusteeship

Division of the Secretariat, a certain warmth of feeling towards Samoan society. There was an inclination to let this small and remote,

but self-assured, community evolve in accordance with the pattern that it had derived from its own traditional culture. As Trusteeship Officer, I was required to prepare proposals for the 1950 mission’s visit to the territory. It was agreed that we should take the mission fully into our confidence and seek to draw constructively upon the advice of its members.* By adopting this approach, we expected to avoid embarrassment such as that which had recently

been created in respect of Tanganyika, where a critical report by a visiting mission had been followed by an apologia from the territorial government. Our expectations were, in the event, fully realized. The report of the mission surveyed sympathetically the recent constitutional changes and the political events which had followed them, and it concluded that Samoa had ‘an interesting and encouraging political future .”3 It helped us more directly by giving public expression and support to several proposals, such as those for the institution of an executive council and for making the Public Service Commissioner subject to the direction of the High Commissioner, which we had been privately discussing within the Samoan government. It underlined the importance of developing an adequate system of district and village

government—a project upon which I was engaged, with Samoan colleagues, at the time of its visit—and of various developments in the economic and social fields. Finally, by drawing attention to the need for ability and experience among politicians and judges it made

clear its view that the old system of rotating public offices among representatives of different districts or villages was unsuited to modern conditions.

The tone of the 1950 report—critical, at times, but constructive and undogmatic—was characteristic of the attitude of the Trusteeship Council and of its visiting missions during the whole of the period

that Western Samoa was a Trust Territory. As the attitude of New Zealand was—within the limits of official thinking—similarly sym* The members of the mission were: Sir Alan Burns (United Kingdom), chairman; T. K. Chang (China); Jacques Tallec (France); and Victorio D. Carpio (Philippines).

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 233 pathetic and undoctrinaire, the scope for the exercise of initiative within the territory was relatively unconfined.

In relation to the ultimate objective of full self-government, the initiative thus lay, in its broadest terms, with the Samoan leaders. But its realization was dependent upon a great deal of detailed analysis and constructive thinking. More than that, it involved the correlation

of political advancement to that in other fields. Here, the initiative lay, primarily, with the executive government. Should the government

play a more active role in the development of agriculture; should it press on with the creation of a modern system of local government? Or should it take the easier path of merely seeking to satisfy the simplest demands of the Samoan leaders, those concerned directly with the attainment of self-government? In the answers to these questions is to be found the measure of the government's courage, of its calibre, of its seriousness of purpose. And, since the Samoans are more deeply impressed by moral and intellectual quality than by a desire to please,

in these same answers is to be found the measure of the people’s regard for those who, for the time being, sat in the seats of executive power.

8 THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY N the field of politics, traditional and modern elements in Samoan

] thinking have combined to produce the demand for self-government. In the economic sphere, on the contrary, the factors of modern and of traditional origin have tended to run counter to one another. On the one side, the rapid growth of population and the common expectation of a steadily rising standard of living have been consequences of contact with the wider world. On the other side, the traditional social structure has been the product of a time of demographic stability and economic equilibrium. In combination the first two of these factors have presented Samoa—like other countries in a similar stage of development—with a formidable problem. Because of the population increase, a substantial rate of economic growth has been required for the maintenance even of existing living standards, and an exceptionally high rate has been a necessary condition of any

increase in those standards. But the complexity of this problem has been greatly increased by the existence of the third factor, since the value system embodied in the social structure has set limits to the means that the country has been disposed to adopt for its solution.

How far, it must be asked, has the complexity of the resultant situation been recognized? How vigorous has been the response of individual Samoans to modern economic incentives? To what extent has the policy and administrative action of government helped or hindered them in their efforts? And, finally, what is the range and relative importance of the factors that may determine the success or failure of Samoan endeavours to raise material standards?

During the years immediately following the war, the character of Samoa’s long-term economic problems was somewhat obscured by the high prices being received for the country’s exports and by the

development that the resultant prosperity produced.t In 1947, for example, the average price received for cocoa— {188.7 per ton— was double that of 1945; and during the following years, except in 1949, it was even higher. Copra prices rose similarly, from £22.5 234

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 235

per ton in 1945 to £49.0 in 1950. Copra production in these years was somewhat higher that it had previously been; and cocoa production rose substantially, with the promise of a further increase when new plantings came into full production. Desiccated coconut manu-

facture remained a profitable industry till 1951, when it was abandoned. But this change involved no loss of export earnings, since, at prevailing prices, it was more profitable to use all available coconuts for the making of copra. Among the major exports, only bananas remained in the doldrums, as a consequence mainly of shortage of suitable shipping. At this period, therefore, Samoa experienced a large increase in its

export earnings. In 1945 total exports had been valued at £636,000. In 1947 they rose to £1,352,000. In 1948 they were { 1,108,000, in 1949 £1,345,000, and in 1950 £ 1,304,000. As the value of imports

remained well below that of exports and as invisible items were relatively unimportant (and largely self-balancing), considerable overseas funds were accumulated. The people were better off than they had usually been; and the government possessed confidence in the country’s ability to meet is commitments. But, though this situation was a satisfactory one, within its own limits, it provided little real assurance for the future. Even if cocoa prices remained high for some years (as seemed likely) and if the banana trade revived when adequate shipping became available (as would fairly soon be the case), Samoa would gain only a little extra time in which to initiate more radical changes in its economy. The rapid rise in the national income required by population increase and changing patterns of consumption could not be achieved in the long

run—and probably not even in the short run—by reliance upon favourable terms of trade and minor innovation within the existing social framework.

Samoa was better placed than many other tropical countries for embarking upon a vigorous programme of economic development. Per capita income was far higher than in many parts of Asia and Africa. The people were literate and healthy; and both educational and medical services were rapidly improving. Fairly large reserves of uncultivated

land suitable for agriculture existed in many parts of the country. And the rapid increase in export earnings left a considerable surplus for investment. Even some of the conventions of the Samoan social system could be brought to the service of economic change. In most parts of Samoa,

236 SAMOA MO SAMOA uncultivated bush land was under the control of the fono of the village

in whose territory it lay. When it was developed, it came under the control of the matai of whose family the cultivator was an active member. In former times the matai exercised this control with the object of providing directly for the sustenance of all those living under

his authority. But there was nothing formally inconsistent with the custom in a decision by a matai to develop such land himself as a plantation run on commercial lines and maintained by wage labour. Some doubt might exist as to whether his descendants would continue to enjoy the fruits of his enterprise after his death, if his title should pass to a brother or remoter kinsman. And a matai with an interest in commercial development was almost certain to possess European-style views on the subject of inheritance. A few such matai were able to protect themselves partially against this possible difficulty

by acquiring a near-by piece of freehold land on which to erect necessary buildings, such as copra or cocoa driers. Generally, however,

young and vigorous matai were not greatly deterred by the custom relating to succession to land and titles. They assumed that their own expectation of life was good and that, in one way or another, they would be able to ensure the succession to their titles of members of their immediate familes. Moreover, the custom itself created a doubt, rather than a certain difficulty, since it recognized rights of inheritance by the immediate family in respect of personal property— as distinct from land—that might possibly be interpreted as broadly

as a modern planter would desire. A significant amount of development was taking place under these conditions. The plantation of To’omata Tua, at Samata, in Savat1'l, was one example. The most remarkable example of all, however, was represented by the plantations established in parts of Vaisigano district,

in western Savai’i, by Va’ai Ropati Sale’imoa and members of his family. Va’ai had been a protégé of Richard Williams and had served, in German times, first as a government clerk and later as a fa’ amasino and a pulefa’atoaga. In the 1920s he had been one of the most alert and well-informed of Richardson’s Faipule. For many years he had shared —with the passion of a convert—the belief of his European mentors

that the future of Samoa lay in the development of agriculture and education. He had been impressed very early with the prospects of cocoa and had begun to develop a plantation at Vaisala, the village in which he held his title, as far back as 1910. By 1949, when I first came to know the family, Va’ai Ropati, who was in his nineties, was

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 237 holding his title jointly with one of his sons, Kolone, a former school-

teacher and a man then in his thirties. Va’ai Kolone exercised the authority of the title, both in the village fono and in regard to the plantation.” Already he had greatly extended the original plantation by developing virgin bush land; and this procedure he has since continued. In 1955 he is said to have had 140 acres of cocoa; in 1960 he had over 400. When making these extensions, he has inter-planted ta’ amu (a giant taro) and—more recently—bananas, to provide a cash

income till the new cocoa came into bearing. He has made roads through the plantation, so that all parts of it are accessible to his trucks. He has constructed a cocoa fermentary and two driers. For the working

of the plantation he has come to rely entirely on wage labour, under the control of foremen who—by his considered decision—serve him only as employees and are chosen from those who are not his close kin. Agriculturally and economically, his enterprise represents a high point in Samoan endeavour. The thinking and practice of Va’ai Kolone and his father affected Vaisala village as a whole in several ways. As a natural corollary to his

dependence on wage labour, Va’ai Kolone abandoned most of his traditional rights in respect of the taulele’a of his own ’diga. In itself, this constituted a substantial incentive to them to develop plantations, since they gained both time in which to work for themselves and an assurance that the fruits of their labour would be their own. In addition, he encouraged the formation within his own ‘diga, which comprised a third of the inhabitants, of a “young planters’ society’. Its members helped each other in clearing and weeding; and, when a member was sick, the remainder cared for his plantation and assisted his dependants. Through his dominating influence in the fono, he sought to impose a similarly progressive policy on the village as a whole. In particular, the fono established a control over the uncultivated bush land which ensured that no individual or ’aiga could gain a monopoly over the more desirable parts of it. Less directly—but, in the long run, perhaps

not less significantly—the passionate interest of both Ropati and Kolone in education stimulated economic enterprise. Although the other cocoa plantations of Vaisala could not compare with Va’ai Kolone’s own, they contributed to the sense of well being and of enterprise that permeated the village community.

In other villages of Vaisigano members of the Va'ai family were active and influential. At Sataua another son of Va’ai Ropati, Lesatele

Rapi, had established a cocoa plantation on similar lines to that of

238 SAMOA MO SAMOA his brother in Vaisala; and elsewhere in the district other sons were engaged, though less conspicuously, in cocoa planting and trading. But, though the achievement of the Va'ai family was particularly notable, it was not unique. Good cocoa plantations had been established, in particular, by Tufuga Fatu (a former teacher) at Asau, by Seumanutafa Lafaiali‘i (the associate judge) at Falealupo, and by Usu Tevita (a former radio-operator) at Neiafu. The district possessed

ample land well suited to the growing of cocoa; and men whose ambitions had been aroused by education or by experience in nontraditional occupations had responded to the opportunity which it provided. The position in Samoa as a whole was considerably less favourable

than that in Vaisigano. None the less, similar development was occurring in parts of most districts, particularly where newly completed roads had made good land more accessible. In Sa’anapu, for example,

“Anapu Solofa—the Leader of the Fono of Faipule—had allocated land definitively to the different branches of his ’diga and, like Va’ai Kolone, had abandoned many of his claims as a matai, in order to encourage his kinsmen to develop their own plantations. In many villages, therefore, Samoans were reorganizing and expanding their agricultural activities and modifying, in varying degrees, the conventions of the Samoan social system.

This piecemeal and localized advance was important both in immediate economic terms and as a contribution to the development of Samoan thinking on economic matters. By itself, however, it was not sufficient to solve the problem of economic growth with which the country was faced. Far more general development was required; and major difficulties stood in the way of its attainment. In a few cases, even the development that had occurred acted as more of a deterrent, than an encouragement, to further development.

Where the bush land was not firmly controlled by the fono, as in Vaisala (or Sa’anapu), it was possible for one ambitious matai to establish his claim, by cultivation, to most of the land in reasonable

proximity to the village or the road. And control, where it was exercised, was of a somewhat rudimentary form. Generally, a member of the village would be allowed to cultivate a strip of a certain width,

starting from a road or from the margins of older cultivations and extending inland as far as he chose to go. This procedure frequently led to disputes, as, in the absence of survey, adjoining planters disagreed as to the direction in which their strips should run. Moreover,

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 239

it led to the creation of unwieldy plantations, on which much time was lost in getting to and from work and in bringing produce to the road or store where it was to be sold.

Further, the operation of the matai system introduced an added element of uncertainty into the future of plantations. The early death of Usu Tevita and the subsequent deterioration of his plantation, for example, showed that not even a matai could be quite sure that the fruits of his own efforts would long survive him. This uncertainty was far greater in the case of a tauleale’a. A good many matai encouraged the taulele’a of their “Giga to develop plantations of their own and accorded them a reasonable freedom and security of tenure. Others, however, were jealous of the success of their taulele’a or greedy for an inordinate share of the proceeds of their work. In these circumstances, an oppressed taule’ale’a could appeal to the Land and Titles Court; and, if he did so, he would be accorded such measure of protection as the court considered consistent with custom. But an appeal to the court could have embarrassing social consequences in the village

for the appellant, so that few were, in fact, made. More usually, a taule’ale’'a would restrict his efforts as a planter, in order not to arouse the ill-feeling or cupidity of his matai. Sometimes, he would leave the village. The over-all result was thus a reduction in plantation activity.

No less important were the effects of customary tenure upon the provision of finance for agricultural development. Land so held could

not be sold or mortgaged, nor could a lien be given over crops growing upon it. Neither land nor crops could be used, therefore, as security for a loan when money was needed for the construction of an

access road or a copra or cocoa drier or for other developmental projects. In fact, nearly all the most successful Samoan planters were also traders. This gave them a useful financial standing with the firm with which they were associated and enabled them to obtain a certain

amount of credit when necessary. But, in the nature of things, this source of funds could be available only to a limited number.

Although Samoa urgently needed capital for development, a considerable part of the surplus produced by the years of high prices was being used in unproductive ways. New churches and pastors’

houses were being built to replace others which still adequately served their purpose; and village stores and bus and taxi services were becoming more numerous than the economic situation made desirable. Even more significantly, well-to-do individuals were investing some of their funds overseas.

240 SAMOA MO SAMOA The position in regard to customary land was one of the causes of

this situation. But it was not the only one. Local investors found difficulty in assessing the prospects of almost any new enterprise. They lacked detailed knowledge of relevant overseas experience; and they were ill-equipped to pursue the type of inquiries that would have been necessary to obtain it. In the field of manufacturing, in particular, it might have paid well to produce commodities like soap, biscuits and ice-cream for the local market or to undertake some processing of local products for export. But such ventures raised many questions. On how small a scale could an industry profitably operate? Where could the most suitable machinery be obtained? What types of skill

would be required in the labour force? How far could the local market be expected to respond to lowered prices or to the introduction of products especially suited to Samoan tastes? Questions such as these seemed difficult to answer, with the result that few new enterprises were embarked upon. The lack of secondary industries inevitably resulted in a higher level of imports of consumer goods and a lower level of domestic employment than would have prevailed in other circumstances. In view of

the violent fluctuations in export earnings to which Samoa was subject, the high degree of dependence on imports was unfortunate. Because of the drift of population to Apia and of under-employment in rural areas (where it has been estimated that adult males worked,

on an average, about twenty-seven hours a week), an increase in urban employment opportunities was highly desirable.? Moreover, it is likely that the lack of industrialization contributed to the general absence of interest in technological change that permeated the whole economy. The prosperity of the post-war years made problems such as these

seem less urgent; but it did not make them, in the long run, less serious.

IN a country such as Western Samoa, the role of government in relation to economic development is a particularly important one. Policies must be framed with a careful regard not only for the maximizing of incentives to development—as in any country—but also

for the minimizing of the restraints upon it that derive from the rigidities of the traditional social system. The functions of government

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 241

must also be wider than is necessary in a more developed country. Technical instruction and information, for example, must largely be provided by government, if they are to be available at all. Finally, the government should have an economic plan, not on ideological

grounds, but as a simple prerequisite of adequate and consistent economic growth of any sort.4

The satisfaction of these demands is particularly difficult in a country deficient in both financial resources and trained personnel; and the growth of technical assistance programmes, organized either by metropolitan countries or on an international basis, is largely a response to the recognition of this fact. If the range of possibilities for

an under-developed country is considered to lie between total inactivity and adequate over-all planning and implementation, the position of Samoa during the post-war years was nearer to the lower end of this scale than to the higher. Some technical assistance was provided by New Zealand; but it was largely limited, in financial terms, to the profits earned in Samoa by New Zealand Reparation Estates and, in terms of personnel, to the provision of experts to study isolated problems. The Samoan government, itself, was singularly lacking in experts in all aspects of economic development. And, both in New Zealand and in Samoa, there was little recognition of the need for a comprehensive plan. On the credit side there were some substantial achievements. The road-building programme initiated by Colonel Voelcker was well under way by the time he left. In the years 1948-9 and 1949-50, for

example, about sixty miles of main roads were completed. For engineering reasons much of this new road by-passed the villages that it served. This had two incidental advantages. Considerable areas of uncultivated land were opened up; and the people of the villages were

provided with a strong incentive to construct feeder roads, which made further areas accessible to road transport. The government itself assisted this latter development by undertaking the necessary surveys and by lending equipment. Similar encouragement was given

to local water supply and electricity schemes, in which the people of the outer districts were taking an increasing interest. Towards the end of 1949 one of the most notable gaps in govern-

ment activity was filled—partially at least—by the establishment of a Department of Agriculture. For tactical and financial reasons, the new department was started in a very modest way. The former Produce Inspector was appointed Acting Director of Agriculture;

242 SAMOA MO SAMOA and the Samoan agricultural inspectors (pulefa’atoaga), who had formerly worked under the Department of Samoan Affairs, were placed under his control. The immediate effects were largely limited to the more efficient performance of existing functions and the provision of a focal point for the consideration of agricultural problems.

But, as the High Commissioner rightly saw, the formation of the department created the opportunity for a gradual extension of the field of work.

In regard to overseas trade, the government had for many years been active. At this time, all bananas for export were purchased by the government from the growers and sold to New Zealand at a fixed price. Since 1942 copra had been sold to the British Ministry of Food, under contracts which provided for the purchase of the entire output of the territory but permitted the making of special arrangements from time to time, in order that small quantities could be sold elsewhere. In 1948 a Copra Board, composed of representatives of the

government and of producers and merchants, was established and given the sole right of export. The board negotiated a new contract with the Ministry of Food, for a nine-year term, and created a stabilization fund. The export of cocoa—alone among Samoa’s major exports —remained wholly in the hands of private firms.

In many other matters, however, the government’s approach was

negative or unimaginative. The root cause of this deficiency lay in the staffing and functions of the Treasury. The department contained no one with an adequate training in economics or with significant overseas treasury experience. It was largely concerned with

the routine control of public finance. When it ventured beyond this limited field, its officers showed little awareness of the relevance of their decisions to the economic well being of the country. As a legacy

from the war years, it administered, for example, a price control system, which—amongst other things—fixed a much lower retail price for local coffee than for overseas coffee. The maintenance of this

differential not only removed all incentive for local producers to improve the quality of their product but also discouraged new planting.

More seriously, it regarded the system of taxation wholly from a revenue-earning point of view and, even within these limits, considered a knowledge of precedent as more important than an understanding of principle. In general, the revenue provisions of the Final Act of the Berlin conference of 1889, which had been devised at a time when Samoa

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 243

possessed only minimal administrative resources and a population largely unaccustomed to the handling of money, had been developed, rather than radically changed, over the intervening years.* Import duties had been raised from time to time; and export duties had been added. One or two new taxes—though not income tax—had been introduced; but a whole range of petty taxes and licence fees had been retained long after they had ceased to be reasonable devices for the raising of public revenue. For example, the Berlin conference had decided that there should be a tax on European-style buildings. At that time, a person’s possession of such a building was a significant indication that he was a potential taxpayer. But circumstances changed, as the Samoan people’s involvement with the Western world became

more complex. Did a Samoan fale become ‘European’ if it had a wooden floor?—if it were partially walled with sawn timber or had

a glazed window?—if it had an iron roof? Over the years, a thick file had grown up devoted to the discussion of questions such as these. The tax remained, though it produced only a few thousand pounds which could far more easily have been raised by other means. In the case of the building tax, the routine thinking of the Treasury

was productive mainly of irritation and administrative waste. In other cases, however, its consequences were more serious. Several years earlier an attempt had been made to create an export market for

dried bananas. The prospects of the new industry became rather doubtful as soon as world supplies of better-established dried fruits, such as dates and figs, had returned to normal; but its position was further worsened by the imposition of an export duty. I asked why this action had been taken and suggested that an export duty was a permissible form of impost on a well-established industry producing a

substantial surplus but that it was harmful when imposed on a struggling, infant industry. This line of argument was considered irrelevant. I was told that there had been no choice: all exports had to pay a duty. Since the Treasury adopted so limited an approach even to matters that were its central concern, it is not surprising that its officers could provide the High Commissioner with little guidance on the broader issues of economic policy. And this was where guidance was most * During the year 1948-9, an officer of the New Zealand Land and Income Tax Department reported on the system of taxation; but his report resulted in detailed, rather than comprehensive, reforms.

244 SAMOA MO SAMOA needed. Powles’s own interests and experience were centred upon the political and social, rather than the economic, aspects of development. Most of the Samoan leaders, too, were most eager for the same range of reforms. The desirability of increased political responsibility, of better schools and better health services, was readily apparent; and

their attainment conflicted only in relatively minor ways with the conservative desire to support Samoan custom. As a result, measures of primarily economic significance tended to be mainly those for which

common sense was a sufficient guide: the building of roads, the negotiation of trade agreements and the establishment of a Department of Agriculture. The government did not lack concern with economic development, but it lacked the experience—and, to some extent, the inclination—to look at the problem in the same comprehensive way

in which it was looking at those in the political, educational and medical fields.

MY Own view was that the relatively relaxed political atmosphere that had been created by the recent constitutional changes provided an ideal opportunity for tackling the country’s more difficult and

controversial problems. In particular, it made it possible for the government to direct the attention of the political leaders upon them without arousing suspicions of governmental antipathy to customary

ways or desire to delay the attainment of self-government. The problems of economic development were among the most important of those requiring study and discussion in this manner. But, as the government lacked any comprehensive economic policy (and had little notion of its need of a plan), the opportunity for official inquiry arose only when a specific problem had attained some measure of urgency. The appointment of a select committee of the Legislative Assembly

to study the customs tariff, and my subsequent appointment as its chairman, provided—in my own case—one such opportunity. The committee was required to consider ‘whether the existing British Preferential Tariff should be maintained, or, if not, what principle in this respect should be adopted in determining rates of Customs duties

in future’. These terms of reference were derived from discussion in the Trusteeship Council, during which it had been argued that the continuance of tariff preference was in contravention of the trusteeship

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 245

agreement. The New Zealand government had not replied to this argument directly but had stated that the Samoan people would be asked to decide whether the continuance of tariff preference was in the best interests of the territory. The government would have been happy if the committee had been content merely to endorse the existing tariff. Instead, it chose to make a thorough examination of the economic effects and the administration of the existing tariff and to consider possible alternatives to it. Early in our investigation, we sought to elicit from the New Zealand

government an official statement of opinion on the compatibility of tariff preference with the terms of the trusteeship agreement and the United Nations Charter. We also sought for some indication that the existing preference was valued by New Zealand and other Commonwealth countries which were major suppliers of Samoan imports. But, in both these matters, we drew a complete blank. We, therefore, resolved to study the problem wholly in relation to Samoa’s economic

interests. Evidence was invited (and received) from government officers, from the Chamber of Commerce, from a number of individuals engaged in commerce or agriculture and from two former officials of German times. Documentation on the tariff systems of

other tropical agricultural countries and the general working of British preference was obtained and considered. On the question of preference, the opinion of witnesses was divided. But even those who favoured its retention did not argue that it had served the purpose for which it had been introduced—the diversion of trade from foreign to British countries. The Chamber of Commerce, for example, showed from trade statistics that “even when Samoa was

a German colony upwards of 70 per cent by value of the imports came from British sources. During the fifteen years from 1933 to 1947 the average had been seventy-five per cent. The preferential tariff was supported by the chamber and others mainly on the grounds that it led to the imposition of a lower rate of duty on three-quarters of total imports—including the bulk of imported foodstuffs—and that it was a token recognition of the fact that (in the words of the chamber’s

submission) “Samoa has reaped great benefits from her imperial association’. But neither of these grounds seemed very substantial ones to those who were inclined to be critical, including the members

of the committee. There was no evidence that British countries valued recognition of their benevolence in a form that conferred almost

no economic advantage. And there seemed better ways of reducing I

246 SAMOA MO SAMOA the duty levied on essential imports than that of reliance upon the rather haphazard operation of British preference. Samoa obtained most of its imports from particular countries for reasons quite unconnected with the tariff. In 1947 over ninety-seven per cent. of British imports had come from New Zealand, Australia, the United Kingdom, Canada and Fiji, and over ninety per cent. of foreign imports from the United States. The primary reason for this concentration was the availability of regular shipping services between these countries and Samoa. Food imports, which were bulky in rela-

tion to their value, came predominantly from New Zealand and Australia because of their proximity. Low freight rates and the guarantee of regular delivery were far more important than any differential advantage given by the tariff. Further, the pattern of trade which these factors had created had produced, in turn, well-established habits of

consumption. Over a long period the people of Samoa had become accustomed to buying articles such as New Zealand canned meat, ‘Tahitian cloth’ (from England) and Fijian hard biscuits. So long as they remained saleable, they continued to be reordered—not only from the

same countries but, largely, from the same firms. When Samoan importers began to buy from a new source, the visit of a traveller or the marketing of a more attractive product was generally the principal reason. Over a great part of Samoan trade there was, in fact, little effective competition between British and foreign products. Where such competition did exist or, more significantly, was likely to (as with the expected revival of Japanese industry) tariff preference was seldom a major factor. In any case, the operation of the preferential tariff had been upset for many years by the use of an inequitable system for the valuation of goods. Early in the 1930s New Zealand had adopted the practice of treating all currencies denominated in terms of pounds, shillings and pence as equal in value, for purposes of customs valuation, to the

New Zealand pound. All other currencies were converted, in the normal way, at the current rate of exchange. This practice had also been applied in Samoa. At this time, when the New Zealand (and Samoan) pound was at parity with sterling but the Australian pound depreciated by twenty-five per cent. and the Fijian by a smaller amount,

Australian and Fijian goods were, therefore, overvalued for the assessment of customs duty. In the Australian case, the amount of duty paid was substantially greater than that paid by foreign goods, despite the enjoyment of a nominal preference.

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 247

Apart from the issue of preference, the committee considered a number of other matters: the existence of specific duties on certain items; the relevance—if any—of the tariff as a means of reducing the demand on hard currency reserves; the introduction of protective tariffs to assist in the establishment of new industries; the possible effects of tariff changes on the treatment overseas of Samoan exports. Its consideration of the issue of protection, indeed, enabled it to take a broad look at the economic problems of the territory and to assemble a substantial amount of useful data. Its report ran, with appendices, to just over thirty printed pages; and the verbatim record of evidence received was mimeographed for wide circulation.® In these ways, the comunittee sought to bring a number of significant economic problems clearly before the public. The committee recommended the abolition of British preference. It proposed that the new general tariff should provide for two rates of duty—a lower rate on ‘certain specified staple lines’, and a higher rate on ‘all goods not otherwise provided for’. Specific duties should be imposed ‘on certain lines of low value on which it is desired to impose a high rate of duty—e.g., cigarettes, tobacco, petrol’. By these provisions it considered that the two objectives of maintaining government revenue and keeping down the cost of living of the ordinary people could be most effectively reconciled. At the same time, by avoiding a multiplicity of rates of duty, the proposed tariff would be extremely simple to administer, a point of considerable importance in a country such as Samoa. The committee further recommended ‘that the Government should consider the advisability of valuing all goods for the assessment of Customs duty in terms of Samoan currency’. In regard to the promotion of new industries, the committee did not consider that any specific tariff measures were either necessary or desirable: the absence of excise duties on local products would, in itself, make the tariff adequately protective. It did, however, suggest

that the government should consider the feasibility of promoting certain new industries and outlined the possible steps that might be taken to assist them in the initial stages. Finally, it recommended ‘that the Government should consider undertaking a thorough survey of the economic resources of the Territory, with special reference to the possibility of expanding existing industries and establishing new ones’.

A second opportunity for the examination of certain important economic problems was provided by the appointment of the select committee to examine the desirability of establishing an independent

248 SAMOA MO SAMOA Samoan currency. The subject of its inquiry had gained importance as a

result of the unexpected appreciation of the New Zealand pound to parity with sterling in August 1948. This action had been taken for reasons that were relevant only to circumstances in New Zealand; in Samoa it had produced some temporary economic embarrassment. Could the Samoan economy, it was asked, be protected from the risk of future disruption of the same kind? In view of the technical problems of currency management, the committee decided to ask for the services of an expert adviser from

New Zealand, for information on the working of the monetary systems of Fiji and Tonga, and for the advice of the International Monetary Fund (whose officers had reported on currency problems in other under-developed countries). In March 1950—more than three months after these requests had been passed to the Department of Island Territories in Wellington—the committee received an oral assurance, through the High Commissioner, that “a memorandum’ was being prepared by the New Zealand government. When another seven months had passed without even this memorandum being received, or any indication being given of action in respect of the committee's requests, it was decided to prepare an interim report.® In this the committee expounded the case for an independent currency, affirmed its opinion that the problems associated with its introduction were readily soluble (with technical assistance), and recorded its view

that the investigation entrusted to it should be continued till final conclusions were reached. Negatively, the committee emphasized the difficulty for Samoa of being tied to a minor currency, that of New Zealand, which was subject to revaluation from time to time, in the light of the economic and political circumstances of a temperate-zone, agricultural country. Positively, it emphasized the importance of an autonomous currency as part of the framework of a planned economy. In the past, when copra and cocoa prices fell, the demand for imports declined similarly, Government expenditure was heavily cut, and the overseas financial position of the Territory remained sound, as a consequence of these adjustments. Financial soundness was paid for by the people of Samoa in terms of unemployment or anxiety over their personal financial situation and by the Government in terms of the abandonment or neglect of services which had been built up at heavy expense... . It is doubtful, however, whether it will be feasible again to allow deflation to take its natural course in this way. To some extent, there is an increase in the dependence of the people upon money, as a result of which the

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 249 social difficulties (and, perhaps, the political dangers) of unemployment and poverty would be greater on any future occasion than they were in

the past. Far more important, however, is the expansion which has taken place in public expenditure. . .. The needs of Government, as well as those of private enterprise, therefore require that the level of economic activity in Western Samoa be kept up, even though export prices are low. This object could be attained in one of two ways—by accepting heavy subsidies from New Zealand, or by maintaining control over the external economic relations of the Territory. The first method is probably impracticable, and it is certainly undesirable that Samoa should become dependent on a ‘dole’. The second method is, therefore, the only one by which the economic future of Samoa can be safeguarded. If it is to be followed, the means must be found for the control of Samoan currency in the interests of the Territory.’

Having thus, set out the argument for an independent currency, the report proceeded to give the committee’s tentative answers to the main questions involved in its establishment. By demonstrating that these

answers were, in broad outline, fairly straighforward, it was hoped to elicit the detailed and technical assistance that had not so far been forthcoming. Not long after this report was presented to the Legislative Assembly,

my own term in Samoa came to an end. Up till that time no action had been taken to implement the recommendations of the select committee on the preferential tariff, which had been endorsed by the assembly about a year earlier. It was thus true that government policy had not as yet been affected by the deliberations of either committee. But it was equally true, in my opinion, that the committees had made a significant contribution to Samoan development. They had given Samoan leaders an opportunity to examine some of the problems of economic development and to gain an appreciation of their relevance to the attainment of self-government. Their work had demonstrated that, if suitable opportunities continued to be provided, Samoa could soon develop a leadership as confident, realistic and sophisticated in economic matters as it was already in those of a more directly political kind.

UNFORTUNATELY, these opportunities were not provided. And the

aftermath to the work of the committees themselves was, in both cases, one of anti-climax.

250 SAMOA MO SAMOA A fortnight after the Report of the Select Committee . . . on the Prefer-

ential Tariff had been presented to the Legislative Assembly, the newly elected National Party government took office in New Zealand.

The new Minister of External Affairs and Island Territories, F. W. Doidge, had been for many years an ardent advocate of imperial preference. Efforts were made, at his instigation, to find ways of avoiding the unpalatable consequences of Mr Fraser’s reference of the issue to Samoa. But this was not easy, in view of the continued pressure within the Trusteeship Council for the abolition of preference and of the unwillingness of other Commonwealth countries—in particular,

the United Kingdom and Australia—to ask for its continuance. Eventually, in 1953, the New Zealand government informed the council that it had no objection to abolition and would be willing to leave the decision to the government and people of Samoa. A Departmental Committee on Taxation and Tariffs was then set up by the High Commissioner to go again over some of the ground that had been traversed four years earlier by the select committee. This new committee, composed wholly of public servants, reached conclusions that were more in accord with the Minister’s views.® It

recommended a tariff composed of three ‘brackets’ of ad valorem duties (in place of the select committee’s two) and of specific duties (on the same lines as the select committee's recommendations). But—and here the Minister’s views were endorsed—the two higher brackets were

to contain ‘British’ and ‘Foreign’ rates. It also rejected the select committee’s recommendation for the abandonment of the anomalous procedure for the valuation of goods. This procedure, it should be said,

by its overvaluation of Australian products, protected some New Zealand exports—principally foodstuffs—against Australian competition. The committee did not refer to this fact, but wrote: *. . . there appears no reason for altering the present system .. .’.° The Legislative Assembly, whose membership had changed considerably in the interim, seems to have been not unimpressed by the

parade of tables and calculations with which the new report was provided. It accepted the new tariff proposals; and they were, in due

course, brought into force. The committee’s endorsement of the existing procedure for the valuation of goods required, of course, no

action. The anomaly remained till, not long before Samoan independence, New Zealand herself abandoned it, under Australian pressure. The change was then made in Samoa. For some time after I left Samoa, the proposal for an independent

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 251

currency was developed most promisingly. When I reported to the New Zealand authorities on the completion of my term of service, I was informed that difficulties still stood in the way of obtaining the expert advice for which the committee had asked. I had, however, forearmed myself with an assurance from the Governor of the Reserve Bank of New Zealand that he would provide an adviser as soon as a formal request was made to him. As a result, the Assistant Economist to the bank, V. D. Stace, visited Samoa early in 1951. Stace not only assisted the committee in the clarification of the issues with which it

had already been dealing but suggested the establishment of a local bank that would combine central and commercial banking functions.

After considering his report, the committee submitted a further interim report and obtained a widening of its terms of reference, in order that it could make recommendations also on the subject of banking.!° Its final report was presented to the Legislative Assembly late in 1953.4

The committee firmly recommended the establishment of an independent currency and the constitution of a Currency and Exchange Board of Control, with restricted powers of appreciating or depreciating the currency. It also recommended the establishment of a

bank ‘on the basis and with the functions suggested in the “‘Stace

Report” ’. In brief, Stace had proposed that the government of Western Samoa and the Bank of New Zealand (the only bank operating in the territory) should be the major shareholders in the new bank and that the Reserve Bank of New Zealand should be a minor share-

holder. In addition to central banking and normal trading bank functions, the new bank should take over savings bank business from

the Post Office and devote special attention to the development of rural credit facilities. These two latter functions were regarded,

both by Stace and by the committee, as of crucial importance to the economic development of the country; and, along with the other recommendations, they were endorsed by the Legislative Assembly.

The implementation of the proposals was dependent upon initial action, both legislative and executive, by New Zealand; and this was not readily forthcoming.* The proposal for a Samoan bank, in which * A preliminary step towards the establishment of an independent currency was, however, taken when the Samoa Amendment Act, 1953, provided that the New Zealand Minister of Finance might ‘fix a rate of exchange between New Zealand and Western Samoa’.

252 SAMOA MO SAMOA the Bank of New Zealand would have less than a controlling interest and whose functions would be wider than those of its existing Apia

branch, affected the latter bank’s position. For that reason, it was opposed. After several years’ delay, experts were called in to resolve

the deadlock, though, in essence, it was the result of conflicting interests, not of inherent defects in the original scheme. In February 1957 a ‘survey team’, under the chairmanship of a representative of the New Zealand Treasury and with representatives of the Bank of New Zealand and the Reserve Bank as members, was appointed ‘to

examine fiscal and banking problems in the Territory of Western Samoa ’.!2

The team produced a valuable report; but, in regard to the bank, it reached a compromise that favoured the views of the Bank of New Zealand, rather than those of Stace (who represented the Reserve Bank in the team). It proposed the establishment of a Bank of Western

Samoa, in which the Bank of New Zealand should have a fifty-five per cent. interest and the Government of Western Samoa forty-five per cent. The major shareholder should appoint three directors and the

minor two. In addition to providing normal commercial banking facilities, the bank should have power to issue bank notes, to hold the territory's foreign exchange reserves, and to establish development and

savings departments. It was not envisaged, however, the report added, that ‘the bank should undertake all these additional activities immediately on commencement of business’.1® It was proposed,

further, that all funds for the development department should be provided by the government, not by the bank. This scheme was accepted by the New Zealand and Samoan governments; and in 1959 the Bank of Western Samoa took over the business of the former branch of the Bank of New Zealand.4 The power to establish savings and development departments was not exercised till after independence. In the same year the Samoa Amendment Act, 1959, empowered the transfer of control over the fixing of exchange rates to the Samoan government. The New Zealand decision thus came ten years after the matter of an independent currency had been referred by the Legislative Assembly to the select committee. The long delays, and the radical modification of Samoan recommendations imposed by New Zealand, did not always have serious economic consequences. In the case of the Bank of Western Samoa, where the chance of using the bank as a major agency of economic development was lost, the results of New Zealand action were, without

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 253

doubt, seriously detrimental.* But the new tariff retaining British preference differed more in form than in economic effect from that proposed by the select committee; and the retention by New Zealand till 1959 of control over foreign exchange rates was, in practice, unimportant, as New Zealand currency has remained at parity with sterling since 1948.

More generally, however, New Zealand action and procrastination did considerable damage. Confidence in New Zealand goodwill and co-operation was diminished. The Samoan leaders were made to see— as they had seen in the less happy days before 1947—that, ultimately, they had little power in matters such as these if their conclusions did

not please the administering authority. Most seriously of all, the practice of full Samoan participation in the task of economic planning,

for which the work of the two select committees had established a useful pattern, was dealt a series of disabling blows. Because of the initial resistance to planning, which stemmed from traditional thinking among the Samoans and from the conservatism of the business community, the loss of the ground that had been gained was particularly

unfortunate. As a result of it, Samoa went forward towards independence with the minds of its leaders less fully engaged in the attempt

to solve some of the country’s most serious problems than need have been the case.

THE years during which the currency and banking issues were so slowly and incompletely resolved were not, in all respects, ones of indecision or inaction. Indeed, between 1951 and 1957 (when constitutional changes in the territory significantly altered the basis of local participation in government), both the New Zealand and the Samoan authorities acted with some vigour in regard to a number * The Bank of Western Samoa Ordinance, 1959, which constituted the bank, empowered the Government of Western Samoa to purchase the shares held by the Bank of New Zealand at any time. The possession of this power by the executive government, coupled with that of the legislature to amend or repeal the Ordinance, made the constitution of the bank a matter that could, in theory, be freely determined in Samoa. In practice, however, it would be difficult for any change to be made, unless the Bank of New Zealand agreed to it. The Bank of Western Samoa still obtains most of its senior officers on secondment

from the Bank of New Zealand. Any disturbance of this, or of other, links between the two institutions could place the Bank of Western Samoa in an embarrassing position.

254 SAMOA MO SAMOA of the less complex and less controversial problems of economic development. Several essential surveys were carried out; important administrative developments were promoted; and, at the general policy level, one or two major decisions were taken. The economic circumstances of the period gave encouragement to much of this activity. The earlier years were a time of prosperity, when export prices and earnings rose well above the already high levels ruling in the immediate post-war years. In 1950 the average price

received for cocoa had been £233.9 per ton. In each of the five following years it was even higher and reached the exceptional figure of £390.8 in 1954. Cocoa production also was rising substantially, as the new planting of the preceding years reached maturity. During 1947-50 an average of 2,267 tons a year had been exported; for the

years 1951-5 the average was just over 3,000 tons. Copra prices also rose, from £49.0 in 1950 to a high point of £69.8 in 1954. But,

in this case, the effect of high prices was partly offset by a fall in production. During 1947-50 an average of 15,534 tons had been exported, despite the use of a proportion of coconut production for the manufacture of desiccated coconut. In the years 1951-5, when desiccated coconut manufacture had been abandoned, copra exports averaged only 14,417 tons. The third major export industry, bananas,

which was dependent upon the quota allocated to it by the New Zealand importer and upon the availability of shipping, began a period of rapid expansion in 1953.* In that year over 252,000 cases were exported, as compared with less than 66,000 in 1952. In 1955 the figure rose to over 446,000 cases. The country’s total exports, which had been valued at {1,304,000 in 1950, reached £1,722,000 in 1951 and then rose steadily to a figure of £2,512,000 in 1955. The growth in export earnings was paralleled by an increase in the participation of Samoan villagers in economic life. During 1947-50 Samoan producers had contributed an average of 1,298 tons of cocoa per year, or fifty-eight per cent. of the total exported. For the years 1951-5 the figure was 1,994 tons, or sixty-six per cent. of the total. And the rapidly growing banana trade was very largely reserved to Samoan growers. Only in the case of copra was the Samoan share of

production tending to fall slightly, relative to those of European * Since 1951 the firm of Fruit Distributors Ltd has controlled the import of all bananas into New Zealand. The firm paid 16s. 9d. a case in 1951, £1 os. od. from 1952 till 1956. In 1953, however, the size of cases was reduced by just over twenty per cent.

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 255 plantations and New Zealand Reparation Estates. A great deal more

money, therefore, was reaching the villages than had done so in previous times. Not surprisingly, this had encouraged many Samoans to begin trading on their own account. A return of June 1954 showed nearly seventy Samoans as the holders of business licences, nearly all as general storekeepers. One of these—Fonoti Ioane—was shown as operating fourteen stores, another as operating nine, and several as Operating two or three. Many other Samoans were employed, as in

the past, as managers of stores operated by the major commercial firms. When I visited Samoa in that year, I was struck by the extent to which many of these stores—both company and Samoan owned— were now handling merchandise additional to their normal stock of foodstuffs, clothing and kerosine. Articles such as bicycles, sewingmachines and radio-sets were now common in all parts of Samoa.

The government, also, had responded to the spur of continuing

prosperity. Revenue had increased from £601,000 in 1950 to £,1,053,000 in 1955 and expenditure from £559,000 to £/1,037,000.*

The major part of the new expenditure was of a character which represented a continuing charge. Educational, medical and administrative services, in particular, had been greatly expanded. The increased commitments of the government, like the new sumptuary habits of the people of the villages, thus made the country much more sensitive to fluctuations in its overseas earnings than it had previously been.

At this time Samoa experienced two years—1956 and 1957— of lower prices for both cocoa and copra. Export earnings fell in 1956 to 1,833,000, a figure slightly lower than the value of imports. In 1957 a favourable balance was restored by a small increase in export earnings and a small decline in imports. But the improvement

was of little significance. Government revenue slumped to £986,000 in 1956 and to £932,000 in 1957. The sense of economic well being—

always somewhat shakily based, in view of the rapid growth of population—was replaced by a feeling of crisis affecting both the government and the people.

Thus, in the first part of the period 1951-7, the government was encouraged, by the rapid rise in national income and in public revenue, * In 1950 the government changed its financial year. Till 31 March 1950 this had run from 1 April till 31 March; after 1 Jan. 1951 it ran from 1 Jan. till 31 Dec. Figures given for 1950 are approximations obtained by adding a quarter of the returns for 1949-50 to those for the nine-month ‘financial year’ (1 April-31 Dec. 1950) necessitated by the changeover.

256 SAMOA MO SAMOA to plan for the future in a mood of expansiveness and optimism. In the last two years, it was presented with harsh facts well calculated to convince it—if anything could—of the urgency of the problems with which it was faced and of the need for over-all planning.

In March 1953 the Prime Minister of New Zealand, the Right Honourable S$. G. Holland, issued a comprehensive statement of policy, in which he dealt, in broad outline, with the remaining stages in the territory's transition to self-government. This was, in effect, a crystallization of the thinking which had been done—largely by the High Commissioner and his senior officers—during the immediately preceding years. The sections of the statement that deal with economic

matters and the supplementary details provided by the High Commissioner when presenting it to the Legislative Assembly constitute the most important attempt to enunciate a general economic policy for the territory.15 The Prime Minister laid great emphasis upon the need for a very rapid expansion of production, in view of the exceptionally high rate of growth of the population; and he drew the conclusion that the problems of economic development were, there-

fore, both complex and urgent, problems which would expose Samoan society to great strain and impose the need for major changes.

He saw the task of New Zealand as being that of defining these problems and of making suggestions for their solution. The task of deciding upon actual solutions belonged to the Samoan people themselves.

In accordance with these principles, a number of matters were listed for early attention. These included: the carrying out of an economic survey, of an aerial survey of the territory, and of a soil survey; the development of agriculture; the promotion of a cooperative movement; taxation reform; and the examination of the problem of land tenure. The problems of currency and banking and of tariff reform, in respect of which decisions had been held up through the action or inaction of Holland’s own government, were similarly listed for attention. And several matters of a quasi-economic character were also included. One of these was the preparation of draft labour legislation. Another—and by far the most important from the Samoan point of view—was a proposal to transform New Zealand Reparation Estates into “a Statutory Corporation called ““Western Samoan Trust Estates’ ’, under Samoan ownership and control.

Progress had already been made towards the implementation of several of these proposals. In a considerable number of matters New Zealand could draw not only upon her own resources but also upon

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 257 those of the South Pacific Commission. The commission, which had been established in 1948, was a regional organization of which all the countries responsible for the administration of Pacific Islands dependencies were members. Its principal function was the provision of technical assistance and advice to its members in the fields of economic

development, social development and health in relation to their dependent territories. The proposed economic survey had been under discussion between New Zealand and the commission for some

time. It happened that V. D. Stace was on secondment to the commission from the Reserve Bank of New Zealand; and it had been agreed that he should undertake the first stage of the survey, an ‘economic stocktaking’. Stace arrived in the territory in May 1953. Apart from his research in Samoa at this time, which occupied him till October, he was able to draw on his own previous work—as adviser on currency and banking problems—and on that of a number of other specialists. New Zealand

had previously sponsored surveys of forestry and agriculture; and in 1953 a New Zealand officer made a study of labour conditions. Specialists sponsored by the commission also studied—though, in some cases, only rather briefly—a number of subjects, including copra and cocoa growing and the prospects for co-operative societies and second-

ary industries. As an off-shoot of Stace’s work, another commission officer made a preliminary estimate of Samoan national income.!’ Stace’s own report was released in 1955 and published, in revised form, a year later.18 It was an impressive document, characterized both by

careful research and by a sensitive appreciation of the country’s problems. Stace’s analysis led him to the broad conclusion that Samoa

possessed the natural resources to maintain its rapidly increasing population at a higher standard of living than that then existing but that radically improved methods of utilizing them were essential, if such a result were to be attained. To this end, he made a comprehensive list of recommendations. During the same period much other information and expert opinion relevant to economic planning was gained. Like the economic survey, the proposed aerial survey had already been under discussion for some

time before the Prime Minister’s statement was made. In 1954 the photographic section of the work was completed and the cartographic representation of the data was begun. In 1956 soil and geological surveys were carried out. The population census which was taken in the same year, as part of normal procedure, was much more carefully

258 SAMOA MO SAMOA organized than previous censuses had been, with the result that the

demographic data it provided were both more reliable and more comprehensive.!® In 1957 the survey team to examine ‘fiscal and banking problems’ made observations and recommendations on a wide range of matters, in addition to producing its compromise plan for the Bank of Western Samoa. By that year the governments of New Zealand and Samoa thus had available to them a wealth of information and advice on many aspects of economic policy. No reasonable government could, however, delay all action till such knowledge was available, since events will not wait upon the completion of research. In Samoa, at that time, the case for quick and decisive action was an overwhelming one. Each year the population to be supported was three per cent. larger. Politically, the promise of early self-government gave New Zealand only a few years in which to

fulfil its obligations as trustee. How far, then, it must be asked, had these years been used to initiate political and administrative action in the economic field?

An attempt had, in fact, been made to implement most of the specific proposals in the 1953 statements of the Prime Minister and the High Commissioner. In 1954 a Registrar of Co-operative Societies had

assumed duty; and, as he was a man of experience and enthusiasm, anxious and able to gain the confidence of the people of the villages, he soon had a number of societies functioning. In 1955 the system of taxation was significantly amended. Income tax was introduced, by a law which gave special attention to the need to encourage new investment; and a number of older taxes, including the long outmoded

building tax, were abolished. Although the government remained dependent on import and export duties for about sixty per cent. of its revenue, the reforms had probably gone about as far as was feasible. In 1956 a Land Use Committee, with a membership drawn from many sections of the community, was appointed to consider the problem of Samoan land tenure and to advise the government on a number of more limited, but important, issues. Most significantly of all, perhaps, Powles’s long cherished plans for the development of the Department of Agriculture began to be implemented with vigour. In 1956 a new Director—a man of long Pacific experience, of wide-ranging talents, and of great energy—and a group of specialist overseas officers were appointed. With the allocation to the department of greatly increased

funds, an active programme, including considerable research and extension work, was embarked upon.

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 259 Finally, in 1957 the assets of the New Zealand Reparation Estates were transferred to the Western Samoa Trust Estates Corporation, which was constituted for this purpose.?° The new corporation was to be controlled by a local board of directors, the majority of whom would be nominated by the Samoan government. The corporation was to act as trustee for ‘the people of Western Samoa’; its profits, after appropriate sums had been allocated for its own purposes, were to be paid to the Samoan government. The transfer was, in part, a political act, a step towards New Zealand’s eventual withdrawal from

the territory; but it was also an act of economic importance. The estates were producing over twelve per cent. of the territory's cocoa

and a little under fourteen per cent. of its copra. They were also carrying on a number of less important activities, supplying beef, coffee and timber to the local market, exporting hides and (when prices justified it) rubber, operating a hotel... . They had pioneered the (eventually abandoned) desiccated coconut and dried banana

industries. On their plantations they had maintained a vigorous programme of experimentation and provided many Samoans with a training in plantation methods.”! Their profits had been the source of

New Zealand aid to the Samoan government. In the eleven years before the transfer of control about £500,000 had been paid over in this way. The Samoan people were thus handed an enterprise of great present value and of considerable significance for future development.

By contrast with the indecisive past, these developments of the years 1953-7 represented a not inconsiderable achievement. And yet, in relation to the need for a higher rate of economic growth, it was an inadequate one. The rapid expansion of the banana industry had been made possible, it is true, by direct government assistance in production, shipment and marketing; and the continuing increase in

cocoa production owed a lot to the government’s road-building programme, if very little to any other measures of policy. But the decline in copra production had not been stemmed. The Land Use Committee had made no progress in regard to the basic problem of land tenure. The delay in reaching a decision on Stace’s proposal for a Samoan bank had meant that no improvement had been made in

the facilities for providing rural credit. Similarly, apart from the taxation reforms, nothing had been done to encourage investment in

industrial or other enterprises which would have increased urban employment. Considerable Samoan private capital was still being invested abroad or being used unproductively in the territory. In

260 SAMOA MO SAMOA 1957 the fiscal and banking survey team commented: “In the absence

of an announced policy for co-ordinated and continuing economic development a good deal of undesirable controversy and confusion is generated’.2? The New Zealand government's comment on the team’s report, in its own report to the United Nations for that year, seems a masterpiece of complacency. This team agreed that the Territory’s basic economic problem is to increase production. . . . The Administering Authority has long pointed out that this is the main economic difficulty facing the Territory and the territorial authorities have concurred. ... This survey virtually completes the ‘stocktaking’ stage of the programme

for economic development which was outlined in the White Paper of March 1953... . Although some immediate benefit has been derived from these surveys, the real value of the basic information obtained will not be

felt until a development plan for the Territory has been prepared and implemented.?%

The report pointed hopefully to the fact that, following the constitutional changes of that year, a Minister of Economic Development had been appointed. But, even if this could be considered a possible

solution to the problem of economic planning, why had a solution not been sought earlier? Part of the explanation lay in the attitudes of the leaders and people

of Samoa. Among the Samoans, those most closely in contact with economic matters, as traders or planters, were generally in favour of certain specific changes; but they were reluctant to consider the implications of comprehensive planning, since this raised subjects— such as action regarding land tenure—that impinged on the traditional social system. Behind them was the conservative majority of the matai,

still little conscious, after the long years of good prices, of the need for economic change. Among the local Europeans, those with the greatest practical economic experience held, in the main, ideas more suited to the days of Jaissez-faire than to the circumstances of a country

forced to transform an economic system suited to a period of equilibrium into one capable of providing a rapidly increasing population with a steadily rising standard of living.

But this conflict of ideas and values was an integral part of the process of Samoa’s adjustment to the modern world. Considered more broadly—in its social and political, as well as its economic, aspects—it provided the principal justification for New Zealand’s

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 261 presence on the scene. It was, quite simply, New Zealand's obligation to assist the people to resolve a conflict that was the product of their history. This obligation could be fulfilled only in part through the conduct of surveys by overseas experts. Such men could provide much useful knowledge, but they could not provide the assistance that was needed

for the framing and implementation of a workable policy. When I had worked in the Samoan administration, I had found it necessary, even in political matters, to formulate and reformulate solutions to problems in response to discussion, to bring up difficult points again and again till agreement was reached. If the final solution was of any value, it would owe a great deal to the local knowledge, the judgement

and the perceptiveness of my Samoan colleagues; but my role and theirs were both essential parts of the process of discussion. In relation

to economic policy, there had been no one to fill the role which, at another time and largely in other matters, I had regarded as mine. The High Commissioner could not do so: his status and the breadth of his responsibilities stood in his way, and his particular expertise lay

in other fields; but, with his energy and talents, he did more than anyone else. Among the officers of the Treasury, or of other departments, there was none with the breadth of knowledge or the standing with the political leaders that would have been necessary. And no attempt had been made to fill the void. As a consequence of lack of knowledge, not of absence of goodwill,

the cloud of inertia that had lain over the whole of New Zealand policy towards Samoa in the years before 1947 had, thus, continued to lie in patches over its economic aspects. The light had shone through

when the tariff question had been referred to the territory, when Mr Holland had made his statement in 1953, when the economic survey had been commissioned; but the cloud had drifted back when controversial decisions or the task of winning the co-operation of the Samoan people had had to be faced. There had been a note of languor too, if not of equivocation, in the whole New Zealand attitude. And

this had been brought home again, at the end of the period, in the facile expression of hope that the newly appointed Minister of Economic Development would be able to solve problems that had so long been left unsolved. In truth, as with the rulers of so many other dependencies, the New Zealand authorities had allowed the will to

govern to decay before the responsibility for governing had been disavowed.

9 DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT LTHOUGH the Samoans had gradually come to accept the A need for a central government organized on modern lines, their commitment to a system of district and village government based on custom had continued virtually undiminished. Whenever attempts had been made to subject this system to external control, they had countered them firmly and with resource. In German times, they had brought the pulenu’u, whom Solf had appointed to maintain order in the villages, under the supervision of locally-appointed committees, the pulemau. Some twenty years later, they had destroyed Richardson’s system of district and village administration and proceeded to control

local affairs in almost complete disregard of the central government. Since 1936 the government had been content to treat the ali’i and faipule virtually as the rulers of autonomous republics, rather than as subjects over whom it possessed an all-embracing jurisdiction.

The existence, side by side, of two forms of political authority had always been regarded with some uneasiness by the more perceptive among both government officers and Samoan leaders. Regu-

lations made by village fono not infrequently conflicted with the law, and penalties that they imposed sometimes related to offences that had been, or would subsequently be, dealt with by the High Court. More generally, the government was severely hindered in carrying out the developmental programme to which the country had been committed since 1947 by the lack of a formal link with the district and village authorities. The sense of allegiance of the Samoans to the central government was commonly of a rather limited kind. They took pride in the fact that they had formal representation in it through the Fautua, the members of the Legislative Assembly and the Faipule; and they recognized that it provided a variety of services which they valued. But they did not see it as an instrument ultimately responsive to their will and directly dependent upon the resources, financial and otherwise, with which they provided it. Their allegiance to their own districts and villages was, by contrast, far more complete. 262

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 263 Though this was rooted in tradition (as expressed, for example, in the fa alupega), it had also come to embrace many activities and interests of more modern origin. For a long time, villages had taken pride in building larger and more ornate churches than those possessed by their neighbours. More recently, both districts and villages had begun to develop a similar rivalry in respect of hospitals, schools and water

supplies. For these purposes they were willing to levy themselves heavily, whereas they would have regarded as oppressive any attempt by the central government to raise similar sums by direct taxation. The substitution of a legally recognized system of local government, in

formal subordination to the central government, for the existing customary authorities was thus important to Samoan development in

two main ways. First, by creating a link between the two levels of political activity, it would encourage the growth of a more sophisticated attitude towards central government. Secondly, by facilitating a more effective harnessing of local loyalties, it would make possible a substantial improvement in social and developmental services. In 1947 I had submitted a preliminary report to the Prime Minister on local government reform; and in 1949, when I was returning to Samoa, I had asked that this subject should be listed in my instructions as one of those to which I was expected to devote my attention. The failure of past attempts at reform made it clear that Samoan opinion would have to be fully consulted before any firm conclusions were reached. It was decided that this requirement could best be met by the appointment of a commission of inquiry, with myself as chairman and a group of Samoan members. The commission, it was decided, should inquire into the structure and mode of operation of all traditional and non-traditional authorities exercising legislative, executive or judicial functions at the district or village levels and into the work of local officials appointed by the central government (such as pulefa’atoaga and pulenu’u). It should make recommendations as to the types of local

government institutions to be established and as to the division of authority between them and agencies of the central government.! This decision on the commission’s functions raised an important question as to its membership: should it be kept small, in the interests of efficiency during the collection of evidence, or be relatively large, in order that its final recommendations might be those of a broadly representative body? This dilemma was finally resolved by an arrangement which sought to satisfy both conditions. The commission would

have six full members, in addition to the chairman, to undertake

264 SAMOA MO SAMOA the work of fact-finding, and eleven associate members—one from each of the traditional political districts—to assist in the drafting of the report. It was further decided that the Fautua, the Secretary of Samoan Affairs and the Resident Commissioner of Savai'i should be named as

consultants to the commission and that the commission should be given the right to appoint further consultants, if the need should arise.

The actual selection of members raised a further problem. Some expatriate officials, trained within a convention that attached more importance to the avoidance of trouble than to the achievement of constructive results, felt that the Fono of Faipule should be invited to make nominations. I was insistent, on the contrary, that the High Commissioner should act on his discretion, after receiving suggestions from me, since the effectiveness of my own work as chairman would be

largely dependent on the quality and range of experience of my colleagues. Significantly, my view was supported by the Fautua and other leading Samoans who were consulted and was adopted without protest from the Faipule. The government had no need, that is, to abandon any of the responsibilities of constructive leadership provided it possessed the general confidence of the Samoan people.* The commission—apart from the associate members, who were

to be selected nearer to the time at which their services would be required—was formally appointed on 27 March 1950. In deciding upon the six full members, certain broad principles had been kept in mind. Three should hold matai titles in Upolu and three in Savai'i; some should be ali’i and some tulafale; and, in experience and outlook, they should constitute as varied a group as possible. One of the Upolu

members—Tofa Tomasi, of Faleasi’u, in A’ana—and one of those representing Savaii—Tuala Tulo, of Leauva’a, in Gaga’emaugat— were also members of the Legislative Assembly. Both were men whose * Only the six full members were appointed initially. When the time came for the appointment of the associate members, I informed my six colleagues that I would shortly be submitting a list of recommendations to the High Commissioner. I said that I would be glad to receive written suggestions from them but would not feel bound to accept any particular suggestion, even if it had the support of all of them. Each member then submitted a list. My final list contained some names on which most of us were agreed and one or two in respect of which I had little or no support from my colleagues. This exercise of what I deemed to be my prerogative also aroused no ill-feeling. + Leauva’a is a large settlement on the north coast of Upolu. But it was established, in German times, by people of Gaga’emauga district in Savai’i after their original homes had been destroyed by a lava flow. Politically, it remains part of Gaga’emauga.

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 265

advice I had frequently sought while I had been drawing up plans for the commission. Tofa had been chosen primarily as a man who saw the problems of district and village government against a background of modern political and commercial experience. Tuala was a considerably older man, with an impressive and scholarly knowledge of custom and a career of public service going back to the early years of the Mau. He and Tofa had formed a plan—never fulfilled because of ill health—to write a history of Samoa. My previous association with the others selected had been much slighter; but, as we embarked on a period of intensive work soon after our appointment, it was not long before we all possessed a clear impression of each other’s qualities. Two of the four—Matai’a Si’u (of Vailoa, in Tuamasaga) and Tofilau Siosé (of Iva, in Fa’asaleleaga)—had served, like Tuala, as associate judges of the High Court. Matai’a, who had only recently retired from the court, had been highly respected by the Chief Judge both for his intellect and for his unvarying impartiality. In our mectings he was an impressive figure. With a manner that suggested composure and selfdiscipline, he expressed himself clearly and forcefully, maintaining a consistent position of moderate and reasoned conservatism, and never hesitating to dissent from his colleagues. Tofilau, by contrast, possessed

little judicial calm. Many years before he had been dismissed as pulenu’u and deprived of his title by Richardson for inciting his village ‘to act in a violent manner’.? He was still an enthusiast. And he had a good knowledge of custom. But he combined these attributes with a manner that was urbane almost to the point of being ingratiating and with a keen interest in the perquisites of office. These four members all

possessed the status of alii. The two remaining members— Fa’amatuainu Tulifau (of Lufilufi, in Atua) and Namulau’ulu Siaosi (of Safotulafai, in Fa’asaleleaga)—were both tuldfale holding important titles in traditional political centres. Namulau’ulu, however, died soon

after we had begun work; and the holder of another of the leading orator titles of Safotulafai—Tuilagi Feti, a former associate judge and Faipule—was appointed to replace him. Fa’amatuainu had been chosen, primarily, as a man who stood for the traditional values of an

older Samoa. In 1924 he had been brought before a committee of Faipule on a charge of ‘sedition’; and, following this inquiry, he had been banished to Savai’i and deprived of his title by Richardson.® Subsequently, he had been active in the Mau. Unlike his colleagues on the commission, he had held no previous government appointment.

He seemed to take a conscious pride in emphasizing that his world

266 SAMOA MO SAMOA was that of Samoan custom and the village, rather than that of Apia and its modern ways. In private he talked with a nostalgic delight of the days of his youth; in meetings of the commission he proclaimed

the need for a return to Samoan tradition. The members of the commission were thus fairly broadly representative of Samoan outlook

and opinion; and the common conclusions at which I hoped they would eventually arrive, through study and discussion, would involve a correspondingly broad reconciliation of existing differences. The commission’s most important task, at its early meetings, was

that of considering the means to be adopted for gaining a full knowledge of existing practice in the various districts and villages. It was decided that we should meet the ali’i and faipule of every village and, where possible, district fono and non-traditional authorities, such as water supply committees. I was anxious myself that we should also attempt to hold discussions with the taulele’a and women’s committees, as the most significant non-matai groups in the villages. My

colleagues assented to this proposal but expressed doubts as to its practicability, which, unfortunately, were amply justified by events. In custom the matai spoke for his family and the fono for the whole village community; and any procedure that appeared to cast doubt upon the adequacy of such representation was looked on with disfavour. As a basis for discussion in the villages, a questionnaire was drawn

up. The first section dealt with matters such as village population, the names of relevant officials, and the number of cases taken to the Land and Titles Court. This was to be completed from official records before a visit was made, in order that members should be in possession

of salient facts. The remainder consisted of questions to be asked during meetings with the ali’i and faipule. These questions were planned to cover the whole range of legislative, executive and judicial activities

of the village and the participation of the village in district affairs. We asked, for example, for information on the manner in which regulations were made and enforced and regarding the provisions of those that dealt with certain important subjects. We asked for details of the composition and functions of committees of the fono and of independent bodies, such as women’s committees. And we asked, in addition, for information on population movement and on the availability of adequate land, since these matters were intimately related to the successful functioning of village administration. Whereever possible, a general question was followed by specific ones, in

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 267 order that we might be able to ascertain whether a procedure that had been explained to us had, in fact, been operative in the immediately preceding years.‘

A second problem which we considered at this first stage of our work was that of ensuring a friendly reception for our inquiries and of building up support, in advance, for whatever recommendations we might eventually make. In part, this was a matter of presenting our task in an acceptable way. We concluded, for example, that it would be important to emphasize the extent to which the survival of custom

was dependent upon the proper co-ordination of central and local government activities, rather than the fact that the life of the villages was caught up in the affairs of a rapidly changing world. In part, also, it was a matter of procedure. We felt it would be important to give all those with whom we hoped to have discussions adequate notice of our visits and for these to be conducted, so far as possible, in accordance with normal Samoan convention, rather than the quasi-exotic ritual of expatriate officers’ malaga.

Fortunately, the Fono of Faipule was in session at this time; and I was invited to discuss the commission’s plans with it. The Faipule agreed to pass on their own knowledge to their constituencies and to ask for full co-operation with us. As preparation for individual visits, we drafted a series of standard letters and radio announcements, to ensure that all those concerned would have adequate foreknowledge of our plans. These letters and announcements, to which the particulars

relevant to each proposed visit would be added, were to go out specified numbers of days in advance. This requirement, together with the keeping of the commission’s records, the calculation of fees and allowances due to members and other matters, placed considerable responsibility upon our secretary. Any slackness on his part would be

likely to produce strained feelings within the commission itself and to endanger our relations with the districts and villages. After a brief initial period, during which an expatriate officer held the position of secretary, all secretarial work, together with most of

the work of translation and interpretation, was carried out by a Samoan, Etené Sa’aga, with the help of an assistant, Arorae Petaia. The commission thus became wholly Samoan, apart from myself, in both membership and staff. Neither of these men had previous experience directly relevant to their new secretarial responsibilities: Etené

Sa’aga had trained as a pastor and later worked as a teacher and an interpreter; Arorae Petaia had begun, but not completed, his training

268 SAMOA MO SAMOA as a pastor. But both had the kind of background that had proved, for so many years, to be peculiarly suited to the making of capable and conscientious government officers. Etené Sa’aga’s father had served for many years as the senior Samoan tutor in the L.M.S. theological college at Malua. Arorae Petaia, the son of a pastor who had served

in the Gilbert Islands, as well as in Samoa, was a member of the distinguished family descended from the L.M.S. pioneer, Va’aelua Petaia. As a result of our strenuous programme of malaga and of my own continuing duties outside the commission, these two men—and Etené, in particular, as the one upon whom final responsibility rested— had often to work under great pressure, dealing with a multiplicity of

matters during their hours in the office and working at home on translations and the compilation of various returns till late at night. According to the conventional papdlagi view, Samoans were incapable

of sustained effort of this kind; but, from the time our expatriate secretary left us, I never had to worry over the satisfactory performance of the commission’s administrative work.

ouR early meetings in Apia were no more than a prelude to the ensuing malaga. We began our visits in Upolu, working eastward and westward

from Apia along the north coast and then moving to the south coast. As a majority of Upolu villages had road access, we usually returned to Apia at night, in order to keep our office work up to date. But even this succession of one-day malaga brought us—or rather me, who, as a papalagi, most needed such education—into vivid contact with the life and the people of rural Samoa. As we sat talking, day after day,

in the fale tele of one of the leading matai of the village we were visiting, looking out upon the malae where people passed upon their business or paused to chat, enjoying—as the sun approached its zenith— the cooling breeze that reached us over the adjacent lagoon, even Apia seemed remote, as Tralee (or even as Dublin) does, for example, to an Irish-speaking peasant in the Dingle peninsula.

As soon as we had satisfied ourselves that our method of inquiry was an effective one, we usually arranged two meetings a day and sometimes asked a group of villages to meet us at a central point. For this purpose, we broke up into two parties, including in each one of the two members who were tulafale, Fa’amatuainu and Tuilagi, in

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 269

order that in the formal speech-making that preceded our business mecting the standing of the malaga party should be suitably established.

Sometimes I was able to participate in part of each meeting myself. In my absence, Tuala or Matai’a usually took the chair. The procedure of our visits followed a pattern based on custom

but modified to suit the needs of the business to be done. On our arrival we would be greeted by the ali’i and faipule and escorted to the

fale where we were to meet. A few minutes would be spent in conventionally required discussion of our journey from Apia and our

recent activities. Then the meeting would become formal; and a tulafale of the village would make a speech of welcome, to which the tulafale in our own party would reply. These speeches were intended, in form, to show recognition of the dignity of their recipients, by the

making of erudite references to their genealogical and historical connections; but, in practice, they were also used to establish the primacy of the party on whose behalf the speech was being made, through the display of a slightly preponderant erudition. Such a superiority should, however, be only of a marginal character, since it

was regarded as humiliating to waste a display of learning on unworthy recipients. For the tulafale making the speech of welcome, these considerations involved a nice calculation of the calibre of his opposite number in the visiting party. For the respondent, they created a temptation to get himself initially underrated, so that, when his own time came to speak, he could place his party in a position of advantage in relation to its hosts. After the speeches of welcome kava would be served. By mutual agreement these formalities were usually kept as brief as

propriety allowed; and, as soon as kava had been drunk, we proceeded to business. We began with a speech explaining the purpose of our visit, emphasizing the importance of full and accurate answers to questions, and secking to communicate our own sense of the import-

ance of our task to the future of Samoa. In practice, we found that these opening speeches were of considerable importance. They helped to disperse any lingering doubts about our standing as representatives

of Samoa, rather than of expatriate authority, so that nowhere were we refused the information that we sought. Moreover, they helped to build up interest in our task, so that by the time we had completed our programme of malaga the ali’i and faipule, at least, in all parts of the territory were eagerly awaiting our proposals. From the opening speech, we proceeded to the questionnaire. As we went through it,

270 SAMOA MO SAMOA members of the commission would throw in supplementary questions, to elucidate obscurities or to follow up novel points in answers; and

sometimes the alii and faipule would bring up additional matters themselves.* In this way, we built up the main structure of our knowledge of contemporary Samoan society. Formal business, though it was conducted efficiently, was set in a context of elaborate social ritual, which began with the reception to the malaga party on its arrival in the village. The business meetings themselves were punctuated by the serving of refreshments—cool drinks, tea and cakes, and a lavish feast at mid-day. Before the party’s departure, presentations were made to its members of food—pork, chickens and taro, in particular—and, often, of tapa cloth. On special occasions, such as the commission’s visits to traditional political centres or to the village of one of its own members, the ceremonial elements were commonly elaborated. These additions to proceedings sometimes centred upon me, as chairman of the commission. At both the great centres of Malie and Leulumoega, for example, a kava title was

conferred upon me, with some little formality;+ and at Tuala’s village of Leauva’a a fine mat was presented. Sometimes, though we asked for simplicity, special dances and songs were prepared.

This ritual was intended to honour both the recipients and the donors, to show that we were regarded as important chiefs and were being received in a chiefly manner. But, when it provided a break in our work, it also created the opportunity for more wide-ranging, but often no less instructive, talk. The occasions when we stayed in a village overnight were even more useful from this point of view. These

informal contacts were valuable to me, particularly; but they were so also to my Samoan colleagues, since they helped them to realize that differences in practice, in outlook, and in circumstances between one village and another were greater than they had previously known. * Asa result of experience gained during the earlier visits, the original questionnaire was twice revised.

+ A kava title is the special term used to refer to a particular chief during a kava ceremony. Strictly speaking, it is the title of his cup. For example, when my

kava title from Leulumoega was used, I was not referred to by the orator in charge of distribution by my name of Davidson or by my position as Trusteeship Officer but by the special phrase Tauvd i le fale Tuia’ana, ’Aumai a’e ma le Malo.

Traditionally, kava titles were often conferred on a chief by the holder of a ‘royal’ title (such as Tuia’ana or Tuiatua) or by the important orator groups of the political centres. The position of Leulumoega and Malie as two of the most important of these centres explains their action, and its significance, in my own Case.

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In July, when we had nearly completed our visits in Upolu, the eleven associate members were appointed to the commission. Although their appointment was intended primarily to provide representation of

the traditional districts, they were chosen individually so as to give us, as well, a wide range of experience and points of view. Some, such

as Pilia’e Iuliano (of A’ana), Toluono Lama (of Palauli) and Lavea Lala (of Gagaifomauga), were influential figures in the traditional political centres of their districts and forceful exponents of Samoan conservatism. Others, such as To’omata Tua (of Satupa’itea) and Va’ai

Kolone (of Vaisigano), were progressive planters and traders. "Au uapa’au Simaile (of ’Aiga-i-le-Tai) was a trader who had formerly

served in the police force. And ’Anapu Solofa (or Tuamasaga), who was also Leader of the Fono of Faipule, in a sense bridged the two groups, as a man who combined business interests with a sensitive regard for tradition.

At the time of the associate members’ appointment, the commission was beginning to plan its malaga to Savaii. We hoped to cover the whole island in a single visit of about three weeks by dividing

into two parties, which would work concurrently. One party, consisting of Matai’a, Tofilau, Fa’'amatuainu and me, would visit the districts of Gaga’emauga, Gagaifomauga, Vaisigano and Salega (a sub-district of Satupa’itea). The other, consisting of Tuala, Tuilagi and ’Anapu (as replacement for Tofa, who was in poor health), would

cover Fa’asaleleaga, Palauli and the remainder of Satupa‘itea. For political reasons, however, it was desirable that I should be with Tuala’s party when it held a meeting at Safotulafai, the most important political centre in the island; and Tofilau and Toluono wished me to be with it when it visited their own villages of Iva and Vailoa (Palaull).

As replacements on these occasions, and in the event of any of us falling ill, we decided to call on associate members for particular meetings.

Early in August the commission left for Savai'i. Etené Sa’aga and Arorae Petaia accompanied us as secretaries to the two parties; and

we each took a boy to carry our bags and attend to our laundry. Tuala, as a chief of high rank and relatively advanced years, also took

his own tulafale, to speak and act for him on formal occasions, and his wife and a cook. At Tuasivi, the government station in Savai'i, the party which was to begin work at Safotulafai disembarked, while our colleagues continued in the launch to Fagamalo, the former German government station, in Gaga emauga.

272 SAMOA MO SAMOA This was for me the beginning of a period of extraordinary interest, since in Savai'i the ancient way of life had been least disturbed. I had

been in most parts of the island before; but, on this occasion, I had come as a member of an essentially Samoan party and as the colleague of men learned in custom. We came as guests, not as participants in the ordinary round of daily life; but we came as Samoan guests, not as Europeans. Unlike ordinary official parties, we brought no European food but accepted, as Samoan courtesy prescribed, the hospitality of those we were visiting; when a contribution from us was appropriate, we made purchases at a local store. From the start, we made it clear

that we did not wish to conduct our meetings in European style, seated in chairs, with a table in front of us, but preferred to sit crosslegged, like the people we were visiting.

At Safotulafai the old power and pretension that had so often disturbed the delicate balance of Samoan politics was at once apparent in the dignity and splendour of our reception. But something else was

apparent as well. We had asked that the neighbouring village of Sapapalii should be present at the same meeting; and this had precipitated a crisis, whose roots lay deep in Samoan history. In custom, Safotulafai stood first in Fa’asaleleaga district—as it did in the whole of Savai'i—and Sapapali’i ranked considerably lower, though it had gained an importance of a different kind since it had become one of the homes of the Malietoa family and, more recently, because of the first landing there of John Williams in 1830. At this time, Safotulafai was particularly sensitive respecting its traditional dignity. Since the last reorganization of electoral boundaries for the Fono of Faipule, it had been in the same constituency as Sapapali’i; and, on occasion, a

candidate from the latter village had been elected. Again, when the Fautua had been asked to nominate the Samoan members of the Legislative Assembly in 1948, they had ignored the candidate of Safotulafai and chosen a matai of Amoa, who was—to make matters worse—a resident of Upolu. When, in our meeting, we called upon the alii and faipule of Sapapali’i for their answers to questions, we found that they were not present. The commission had to meet them later in their own village. But the most memorable part of the malaga began for me when I arrived at Fagamalo to join the party that Matai’a had been leading in my absence. In the districts that we traversed, the government’s road-building programme had barely got under way, so that nearly all

our travelling was done on foot. Sometimes the walk from one

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 273 stopping place to the next was quite short, but at other times it took up

to three or four hours. On these latter occasions, we followed the Samoan practice of starting shortly before dawn. In this way we covered most of the distance before the sun’s heat became intense. But these early starts also satisfied a convention of Samoan courtesy. By leaving before our hosts had risen, we saved them from embarrassment at being unable to provide breakfast, since its preparation could not have been begun till the kitchen fires were lit. These walks provided us with both an intimate knowledge of the country through which we passed and an opportunity for leisurely discussion of the information we had collected. For me, particularly, they helped to add many of the nuances of light and shade to the picture of village life that was taking shape in my mind and thus to give it vitality.

Sometimes our route followed the old roads, which had been formed by Richard Williams in German times and had since fallen into decay. Over thirty years before, when Williams had still been ruling Savai'i, Somerset Maugham had travelled over them and met their maker. His roads were the joy of his heart and he made excursions constantly to see that they were kept in order. They were simple enough, wide tracks, grass-covered, cut through the scrub or through the plantations. .. . They meandered through those lovely scenes, and Walker [as Maugham called

the Deputy Administrator in his story] had taken care that here and there they should run in a straight line, giving you a green vista through the tall trees, and here and there should turn and curve so that the heart was rested by the diversity. It was amazing that this coarse and sensual man should exercise so subtle an ingenuity to get the effects which his fancy suggested to him. He had used in making his roads all the fantastic skill of a Japanese gardener.®

Though they were now in decay, Williams's roads lost none of their earlier charm. Indeed, as the mango trees that he had planted, with an eye both to the beauty of their form and foliage and to the sustenance of the traveller, had reached their full glory, it was enhanced. Coconuts,

too, overhung the roads, and our boys would climb them for green drinking nuts; and there were pawpaws growing and, in one or two places, even oranges. Our morning walks, so near to the spirit of a traditional Samoan malaga, gained something also of the spirit of an Arcadian picnic.

At other times our route took us over rough tracks, where we had to pick our way amongst jagged lava rocks. These stretches, remote

274 SAMOA MO SAMOA from cultivation, were no less interesting scenically. On the great lava field surrounding the inland village of A’opo we passed, for example, through light woodlands, not unlike those of the uplands of Surrey, beyond which in the distance lay the deep blue of the tropical ocean. On the older lava of the south-west coast—between Falelima

and Samata—we passed through dank, tall rain-forest, heavy with vines and epiphytes, near the edge of high cliffs on which the seas broke in clouds of spray and a dull, unceasing roar. But these rugged stretches were particularly hard on my fellow-commissioners, who were well into middle age. Only the interest of the malaga prevented the recurrent exhaustion produced by our more difficult walks from becoming chronic. The villages at which we stopped, indeed, yielded the commissioners constant refreshment, as they sat each evening in the fale of one of our hosts, with a taule’ale'a to serve them kava, and exchanged the news of Apia and of our own malaga for that of the district we were visiting. Often, too, they talked of Samoa in times long before I had known it,

as on the evening when Fa’amatuainu related his experiences as a young man hunting wild horses in the Savai’i mountains. Each place

that we visited differed from the rest, in the intricacies of its genealogical structure, in its reaction to modern problems, and—not seldom—in the detailed way in which it managed its affairs. Even towards the end of our trip each day’s experiences retained the freshness of those of its opening phase.

These differences between place and place permeated the whole fabric of society and were complemented by the differences in their physical settings and appearances. At Fagamalo and the neighbouring

villages—where I joined Matai’a’s party—there was a progressive district committee ably led by several local matai and a Samoan medical practitioner. The old German administrative building had been converted into a district school; an excellent district hospital was functioning; and the committee was operating a somewhat primitive electricity supply. The day after our meeting at Fagamalo we were at

Safotu, one of the six Pule centres and the home of our associate member Lavea Lala. The village was disposed along both sides of a road lined with an avenue of breadfruit trees, which, at a distance, looked not unlike plane trees. It was dominated by an enormous and ornate Catholic church, flanked by a presbytery and a home for the mission sisters, both showing the once dominant French influence in the Marist order. As I accompanied Catholic members of our party

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 275

to mass, with the bell tolling, the road filled with soberly dressed churchgoers, I felt that I might almost have been in provincial France. The white-bearded priest and several of the sisters were, indeed, French

by birth. In another sense, too, Safotu showed foreign influence. Europeans had settled there long ago as traders and planters; and families of part-European descent now occupied positions of influence.

Yet, despite these changes, Safotu remained a traditional centre of Samoan politics, a bulwark of custom and conservatism.

From Safotu we moved on to places less changed by modern influences: to the beautiful village of Safune, built on two sides of a lagoon and backed by hills, where Robert Flaherty had made the film ‘Moana’ in the 1920s; to Sasina; to A’opo, set in fertile land amidst the lava field. At A’opo we seemed farthest of all from modern times. The tracks across the lava were too rough even for pack-horses, so that no merchandise reached it except that carried by men. The village

had no store, our hosts no cutlery and few plates. We were fed sumptuously on food which had all been grown or caught locally: pigeons, chicken, taro, breadfruit, bananas and oranges. As drink we were given locally grown cocoa sweetened with sugar-cane. In the middle of the night I woke to hear school-children in the pastor’s

fale learning their lessons by rote, in preparation for the annual examinations. This, at least, was modern; but it was the pedagogy of the nineteenth century, not of our own. The physical isolation of A’opo was unique in Samoa. For the remainder of our malaga we were never far from the sea or, therefore, from points at which trading launches could call. Between Asau, the

first village beyond the lava field, and Sala’ilua, where our malaga ended, none of the people shared the economic disabilities of those of A’opo. Accessibility varied, however, between that of Asau and Sala’ilua themselves, which both possessed sheltered harbours, and that of a village like Samata, where an open boat had to be taken out through a wave-swept funnel in the rocks to a launch maintaining its position off-shore with the aid of its engines. This difference was one factor that had affected the character of economic development and, therefore, of the social changes resulting from it. At Sala’ilua local European traders played a role of some importance, whereas elsewhere

the agents of European economic influence were almost entirely Samoans—progressive planters, in the main, such as Va’ai Kolone (of

Vaisala), Usu Tevita (of Neiafu) and To’omata Tua (of Samata). In some villages, which lacked either a good harbour or a leading matai

276 SAMOA MO SAMOA with economic ambition, changes resulting from commercial and agricultural development were less evident. Other differences between one village and another were of far less

recent origin. Asau, for example, was the Pule centre of Vaisigano district, with the political pretensions which inevitably accompanied that status. But its position was not, in some respects, an casy one. Falealupo, which lay within Vaisigano, traditionally had stood outside

the whole structure of Pule and had possessed the privilege of not

participating in war. Again, the great Tonumaipe’a family was represented in Falealupo, in Sataua, and in the three villages of Tufutafo’e, Neiafu and Falelima (known jointly as the Alataua, or Alataua West); and this link could be used politically, to the possible embarrassment of Asau. These complexities—and broadly similar ones in the rest of the area we were visiting—remained significant.

They formed part of the background to political discussion even when its objective was a wholly modern one, such as the financing of a district hospital. Although the politics of one village thus differed from those of all others—as the result of modern changes or of the character of the old political and social structure—these differences represented no more

than variations on the pervasive theme of Samoan custom. Beneath the complex interweaving of means and ends, there was a uniform system of values or, at the very least, of proprieties. To the participants this gave the pursuit of politics both its savour and its dignity. To us

it dictated a method of approach to the people rooted firmly in tradition, a method wholly congenial to my Samoan colleagues (and no less so to me).

The commissioners’ response to the situation was a positive and invigorating one. Fa’amatuainu, for example, determined to establish the high standing of our party in every village that we visited by the quality of his own performance as a tul@fale. He would arrive in a village stripped to the waist, wearing only a tapa cloth, like a typical orator of an older Samoa. During the speech of welcome he would

lean somnolently against a post, in the hope that the welcoming orator would underrate him, as an old man who merited no particular display of erudition. When his time came to reply, he would begin slowly and diffidently, mumbling his words till he was sure he had

forced our hosts to concentrate on what he was saying. Then, his voice would gain in confidence and volume, and he would go ever more deeply into matters of genealogy and history. His objective

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 277

was to shame the tulafale who had spoken for our hosts into asking him to stop, in order that additions might be made to the, by then, patently inadequate speech of welcome. On several occasions he went into his subject so deeply that he was stopped a second time; and then

his triumph was complete. Even these performances exemplified,

however, the blending of custom with the ways of the modern world, since—as I eventually discovered—Fa’amatuainu never made a

speech without previously refreshing his memory from a book he carried with him.* By the time we had completed the Savai’i malaga the commissioners had been intellectually invigorated by the new facts and points of view with which they had become acquainted. For me the experience had been even more valuable. For three weeks the people of Savai‘i, its settlements and its landscapes had been my constant companions; and

I had gained much also from the intimate association with my colleagues that our travels together had involved. We could talk together with a frankness and freedom that disregarded the conventions that normally governed relations between Samoans and papdlagi. To some extent, I had been absorbed into Samoan society.

After our return to Apia we still had a few visits to make—to the islands of Manono and Apolima—and evidence to collect on the work of government departments at the district and village level. But our main task now lay in the study of the material already collected, in order that we should have a complete picture in our minds of the existing situation throughout Samoa.

WHAT picture did this reading of the whole body of evidence reveal?¢

In particular, how far did the structure and functions of district and

village government conform to the broad pattern that had been created over the centuries before the coming of Europeans? And how far—on the contrary—had the Samoan people made changes to meet the challenge of modern conditions? We found, of course, no simple answers to these latter questions, since there was a significant lack

of uniformity between the different districts and villages; and our answers fell short of completeness, since we were concerned primarily

with politics and administration and only secondarily with other subjects. But, beneath the variety in relatively detailed matters, certain * O le Tusi Faalupega 0 Samoa (Malua, Western Samoa, 1915). K

278 SAMOA MO SAMOA broad uniformities did emerge, uniformities that were explicable in terms of the particular qualities of Samoan culture and of the external influences to which it had been exposed.

At the level of the village (or nu’u) the traditional structure—in part encapsulated in the fa’alupega—still provided the basis of contemporary organization, defining the geographical and social boundaries of the individual villages and the position of the principal matai.

Many villages had, however, long been divided into several subvillages (or pitonu’u). And the process of division had continued into modern times: the village of Papa, in Vaisigano, for example, contained sections named Siamani (Germany) and Amelika (America).* More

significantly, the administrative autonomy of the sub-villages was obviously tending to increase.

Generally, the fono of the whole village continued to deal with relationships with other villages, with the reception of important visitors (such as the High Commissioner), and with major offences against custom. Where its functions were no wider than this, it usually met infrequently—as circumstances required and, in some cases, for a

few regular meetings each year. In a large proportion of villages, however, the fono of the whole village retained wider functions. Smaller villages commonly conducted the whole of their business in the village fono, even when separate sub-villages were recognized; and in these cases weekly meetings were held. In some larger villages,

additional functions—such as that of making regulations—were exercised at the village, rather than the sub-village, level; but there were considerable variations from place to place. The district of Fa’asaleleaga, for example, was made up of a number of large villages, each containing up to six or seven sub-villages. The village fono continued to exercise fairly wide powers. Most of them had decided that gambling and drinking required control at the village level and had made and enforced regulations on these subjects. With the recent completion of the road through the district, they had enacted regulations prohibiting the throwing of stones at passing vehicles or

the disturbance of the peace by loud singing, when a crowd was travelling on a bus or truck. At the sub-village level organization was of two kinds. In some cases two (or occasionally three) sub-villages * A comparison of the sub-villages recorded by the commission with those recorded by Augustin Kramer over half a century earlier (Die Samoa-Inseln. ... (2 vols, Stuttgart, 1902-3) ) shows a considerable change both in names and numbers.

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 279 shared a single pulenu’u. In this event they would meet weekly as a single unit to deal with plantation matters, to make or enforce regula-

tions on subjects not dealt with by the village as a whole, and to discuss their relations with neighbouring areas and with government departments. For some purposes, however, the individual sub-villages would meet on their own. These might be matters of custom, such as the confirmation of the election to a local matai title, or non-political questions involving the co-operation of local families, such as the building of a boat or the organization of a concert party.

The broad pattern of control in the Fa‘asaleleaga villages was repeated in many parts of Samoa; but there were considerable variations of detail. At Faleasi’u, in A’ana, a large village with a population of about 1,000, the village fono exercised a somewhat broader authority.

It retained exclusive power to make regulations. A committee consisting of the two pulenu’u and two matai from each of the four subvillages, which was responsible for inspecting the state of the plantations, the cleanliness of the village and the observance of regulations, reported to the village fono, if it failed to obtain acceptance of its advice or directions from those immediately concerned. In matters ‘concerning orders or instructions from the Government’, the two sub-villages sharing a pulenu’u met jointly; but, for other purposes, such as the enforcement of village regulations, they met separately. The neighbouring village of Sale’imoa, in Tuamasaga, on the other hand, was a good example of a place in which central authority had become minimal. It was a large community, with a population of over 1,500 in seven sub-villages grouped under four pulenu’u. Practically all internal administrative and political activity, such as the making and enforcement of regulations, was carried out in four sub-village meetings corresponding to the areas of jurisdiction of the four pulenu’u.

The fono of Sale’imoa as a whole merely maintained a very general over-sight and dealt with matters affecting the village’s relations with its neighbours or with the country as a whole.

In a few places we encountered major variations from general practice. One of these was the sub-district of Falealupo, in western Savai’i, where the pulemau system that had developed in German times

seemed to have survived with little change. Falealupo contained two villages, one of which was divided into four sub-villages and the other

into two. The sub-village fono met weekly, on Mondays, for the general discussion of local problems; but legislative, executive and judicial authority had passed almost wholly into the hands of a

280 SAMOA MO SAMOA committee of the whole sub-district which met every Saturday. This committee—formerly known, we were told, as the fono a pulemau— consisted of representatives elected by the sub-villages, plus the Faipule for Falealupo and the pulefa’atoaga for Vaisigano district (since he happened to be a Falealupo man). It considered remits from the subvillage fono, made and enforced regulations and organized the collection of funds. In one matter these different types of fono and of committees conformed strictly to Samoan traditions: their membership was confined

to matai. Normally these matai held titles in the place where they resided; but this was not invariably the case. A matai might move to a village where he saw the chance of building up a trading business or, if his title was held in a village that was short of land, he might move to one that was better endowed and in which he had connections. In the villages of the Apia area there were many matai from other districts who worked in the town. The usual custom in these cases was to allow

such matai to participate in the fono, provided they showed proper respect and assumed their share of responsibility, financially and in other ways.* In some places, however, this right was not conceded, with results that were damaging to village harmony. There was some difference, too, in the position accorded to non-matai whose professional status or wealth differentiated them from the taulele’a. In many villages men such as pastors, Samoan medical practitioners, and traders would merely be consulted privately by the pulenu’u in matters of concern to them, while in others they would be invited to attend the fono, though not being formal members of it. But these minor variations did not significantly alter the broad picture: control remained in the hands of the matai; and the influence of the untitled sections of the community was exercised indirectly, as in former times. In one village, however, the traditional system had been abandoned.

At Papa, in Palauli, the leading chief, Ulupoao, a son of Tupua Tamasese Lealofi II, had decided that Samoan village government * When a matai had a close connection with the village in which he resided, the ali’i and faipule seem sometimes to have been little concerned with the fact that he held his title elsewhere, i.e., they treated him as one of themselves in all

respects. For example, our evidence for Vaimoso, in Tuamasaga, records Mata’utia Ueni as a matai of that village, participating in its affairs. Actually, his title belonged to Tafua, in Palauli, for which village our evidence records him as non-resident but participating. Mata’utia Ueni had, however, a long association with Vaimoso; and a brother held a Vaimoso title.

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 281 was time-wasting and inefficient. He had persuaded the other matai to agree to the abolition of the fono and its replacement by a village meeting, attended by men, women and children. This was held on Sunday afternoon, because, in his austere mind, it was a period that would otherwise be wasted in resting between church services. At these

meetings anyone had not only the right but also the duty to speak when he (or she) had any ideas that could contribute to the advancement of the village. This was, in theory, complete democracy; but, in practice, it was an instrument for the execution of Ulupoao’s personal policy.

These variations in the structure of village government derived, in part, from long-established usage and, in part, from modern circumstance. Some modern factors, such as the need for co-operation with the central government in the provision of educational and medical services, tended to strengthen authority at the village (or even the sub-district) level. But a greater number encouraged the development of sub-village autonomy. The growth of population and the physical dispersion of villages that resulted from it, and from the Opening up of new land for plantations, both had this effect. More

generally, social and economic changes had tended to weaken the purely traditional factors holding the village together. And some governmental decisions, such as the acceptance of a request for an additional pulenu’u, had similarly encouraged the breakdown of the village as an administrative unit. In this situation, a good deal depended

upon the quality of local leadership. A village with one or more politically able and influential matai was likely to retain a greater measure of unity, and to make more adroit adjustments to changing conditions, than one lacking in such leaders. But, as in any society, effective leadership was that which had regard to existing opinion. Although Ulupoao was concerned with the problem of efficiency in a small, undivided village, and not with that of maintaining the unity of a larger community, his leadership provided a good example of a type of reformist zeal that was unlikely to succeed. Under his influence

Papa attained a prosperity that it had not previously known; but his administrative system ran counter to the deep-rooted convictions of most of the matai. He owed his initial success to his high standing and personal energy. But these, even when coupled with practical success in terms of economic development, were unable to prevent a growing

distaste for the sharp break with tradition. In the event, his new constitution was abandoned several years later and his personal

282 SAMOA MO SAMOA authority destroyed. The reforms that could be made to succeed were those which—like the committee in Falealupo—grew more naturally out of the traditional system. Opinion in the villages was thus conservative, cautious and slow to change; but it was not merely reactionary. Though it had preserved the fono of alii and faipule as the central institution of village government, it had allowed it to evolve, so that it no longer merely reflected

the structure enshrined in the fa’alupega. This propensity towards evolutionary change was expressed rather more positively in village regulations and administrative methods, since their character did not affect so directly the balance of power in the community.

Nearly all villages (or sub-villages, where they functioned as administrative units) had a committee similar to that at Faleasi’u. These committees, which were responsible to the fono, carried out general

supervisory duties. They inspected plantations, tracks and water supplies; they supervised the search for the rhinoceros beetle, the great scourge of the coconut palm; and they checked the state of repair of pig-walls and the tethering arrangements for horses and other livestock. In some cases they had the power to impose small fines— generally in money—upon offenders. Membership of the committees always included a group of matai and the pulenu’u (unless he was old and infirm). In certain villages a traditional structure was given to the committee by confining membership, apart from that of the pulenu’u,

to the holders of particular orator titles; but elsewhere membership was more open and often weighted in favour of the younger and more active matai. In many villages several taulele’a also served as members; and in at least one or two women took some part in committee work. Though the duties of taulele’a members related to the carrying out of inspections, and not to participation in matters such as the assessment of penalties, they often filled an important role, in practice, as a result

of their more modern education and wider vocational experience. In varying degrees, therefore, the committee system realigned routine administration in accordance with contemporary needs.

Changes in the economic position of the taulele’a had also had significant administrative consequences. On the one hand, the availability of employment for wages—for example, in Apia or on public

works projects—had provided an alternative to remaining in the villages. On the other hand, plantation development and local works projects—such as the building of schools, access roads or water supplies

—had created an increased demand for active young men in the

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 283 villages themselves. In some places the ali’i and faipule had tried to cope with this situation by an increasingly arbitrary exercise of their authority, with the result that even more taulele’a had left the villages in search of wage employment. Elsewhere, both within the individual diga and at the village level, constructive modifications of the traditional system had been made. Individual matai had encouraged their taulele’a to develop prosperous plantations; and the ali’i and faipule had promoted changes in the organization of the ‘aumaga (the taulele’a sroup). Formerly, the ’aumdga had always been led in its-work for the

village by the son of some particular chief or orator or jointly by the sons of several important title-holders. Under modern conditions— when the work to be undertaken was more varied and when some taulele’a were relatively well-educated or technically experienced— adherence to this custom was often productive neither of efficiency nor

of contentment within the ‘aumdga. In some villages, therefore, the ali’i and faipule had begun appointing the most capable taule’ale’a as leader, regardless of the title held by the head of his family; in others the ’aumaga itself had been allowed to choose its own leader; and in still others it functioned under a committee of its members, which was usually given disciplinary powers, subject to a right of review of its decisions by the ali’i and _faipule. These changes in the structure of the

‘aumaga were commonly complemented by an increased willingness on the part of the ali’i and faipule to discuss with its leader the manner in which particular tasks should be carried out. Equally significant changes had occurred in the corporate organization of the women. Women’s committees, whose development had been encouraged both by the churches and the Health Department, had gradually replaced the faletua ma tausi and assumed some of the former functions of the aualuma. In co-operation with the health authorities, the committees attended to matters of village health. They inspected

water supplies, possible breeding grounds for mosquitoes and the state of repair of houses. They undertook infant welfare work and cared for the sick during epidemics of minor diseases, such as influenza. In addition, when there were village guests to be entertained, they took charge of the decoration of houses and the provision of food

and entertainment. To perform these tasks they met regularly, generally dressed for the occasion in a distinctive uniform (which varied from village to village). In a large proportion of villages the committee possessed its own house, which was used both as a meeting place and for the isolation of those suffering from infectious diseases.

284 SAMOA MO SAMOA In the few places without such committees, we found that the explanation of their absence did not lie primarily in lack of enthusiasm among the women themselves for such work but in resentment by their husbands—the ali’i and faipule—at the expense in which it would involve them for the purchase of medical supplies and other goods and

equipment. Generally, however, their place in village administration was both accepted and valued; and in most villages this was recognized

by inviting the president (and often the secretary) to attend the fono when matters of concern to the committee were to be discussed.

The existing condition of Samoan rural society, in terms both of predominant opinion and of the problems of maintaining order and propriety, was expressed most directly of all in the regulations made by the fono of the villages and sub-villages and in the action taken to enforce them. Such regulations were normally made after consideration on several occasions by the fono concerned. Often this was given at successive weekly meetings; but in some cases an interval of several

months was allowed to elapse, as a matter of principle, between initial discussion and final decision. In many villages speakers emphasized the importance of allowing time for second thoughts, in order that regulations should be soundly formulated. When made, a regulation was communicated to the people in several ways. In many villages a general assembly was held on the malae, at which it would be read out—where a written record of regulations was kept—or announced by an orator or the pulenu’u. In others (particularly the more scattered villages) orators would walk through the village after nightfall announcing it to the people of each household. In a few the matai were left to inform their own families.

The subjects on which villages had found it necessary to make new regulations during the years immediately before our malaga differed relatively little from place to place. They fell broadly into several groups. One such group comprised gambling, drinking and home-brewing. The growth of these practices was a result, fundamentally, of the spread of European influence from Apia; but particular

blame was commonly attached to the American troops who had been in the territory during the war. In a number of places the ali’i and faipule admitted that their regulations had done little towards

restoring more puritanical habits; and in one we were told of a regulation prohibiting the taulele’a from sleeping together in a single house, since, in these circumstances, they inevitably took to gambling and drinking. Another group stemmed from the extension of the road

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system. Regulations concerned with the conduct of travellers and the stoning of vehicles, such as those at Safotulafai, and with sitting on the road—a popular practice in the cool of the evening—had very generally been made. A third group related to offences whose prevalence had increased as the people had come to possess more money or to experience a stronger desire to acquire it—for example, with the misuse of sporting guns or with stealing from plantations.

A subject which had something in common with these was that of the curfew. Curfews had first been imposed in Samoa about a century earlier at the instigation of the missions, as a means of restricting ‘salacious’ dances and sexual practices frowned upon by the missionaries. Gradually they had fallen into disuse; but the memory of them had survived, and they had been reimposed during the war, as a protection for Samoan girls against American troops. At the time of our malaga, the great majority of villages still had curfews, though

the troops had been gone for some years. Usually at ten o’clock a bugle was sounded, after which people had to keep to their houses. To the matai it was a welcome sound, a nightly assertion of their authority over the increasingly independent-minded young people.

The greater number of village regulations did not represent a response to problems as specific or as novel as these. They were, on

the contrary, the body of long-standing rules governing ordinary village activities. All villages had regulations dealing with the care and development of plantations, with the maintenance of tracks, cemeteries and water supplies, and with the general conduct of the taulele’a and

visitors. It was usual, also, to have regulations on subjects such as fighting, assault, theft and entering a house uninvited at night. And beyond the range of these more or less formalized regulations were subjects on which there was simply a common view of right and wrong

derived from Samoan custom and Christian teaching, the twin bases of the contemporary (and unified) social code. Some of these were primarily matters of custom or morals, with which the law of the land was unconcerned; but others, such as rape and murder, were serious offences against the law. In respect of murder, and to a lesser extent in respect of other serious crimes, the villages had gradually come to

accept the exclusive competence of the High Court. In general, however, the fono had been reluctant to abandon their traditional powers. There was, indeed, a major conflict of jurisdiction between them and the instrumentalities of the state. The existence of this conflict had been one of the major reasons for

286 SAMOA MO SAMOA the setting up of the commission. Even an offence such as that of entering a dwelling-house by night was provided for by law,’ though in nearly all cases it was dealt with in practice by a village fono in accordance with custom and local regulations. In this instance there was some practical advantage in the adoption of such a procedure, since custom recognized, as the law did not, a clear distinction between entering a house with intent to commit murder, rape or other serious crime and the fairly common action among young people of entering in search of food. The functioning of local regulations duplicating, or conflicting with, the provisions of the law emphasized, however, the uneven and incomplete enforcement of the law itself in the villages. And the uncertainties resulting from this situation tended to erode the standing of both the government and the local authorities. The effect of these regulations—whether formulated or customary— was dependent not only upon their content but also upon the manner in which they were enforced. To the ali’i and faipule the distinction

between matters dealt with judicially and those controlled by the disciplinary activities of churches, or other non-governmental bodies, or simply by public opinion was much less sharply defined than it is in Western political thinking. None the less, it was possible to isolate village judicial activity, without significantly falsifying it. Major offences were normally dealt with by the fono. Minor ones—

particularly those concerned with plantation matters or the curfew —were commonly handled by the village committee. Trial procedure

followed a common pattern. The accused would be summoned to appear before the body that was to try him. The case against him would be stated, in many places by an orator or the pulenu’u but in others, less satisfactorily, by all the members of the fono or committee. He would then be given an opportunity to state his defence before the

questions of his guilt and of the appropriate penalty were discussed. The practice of keeping a written record of convictions was becoming

more common; but the general view still was, as we were told at Asau, that ‘the mind serves better because it is rarely lost’.

Major offences were those which were considered to represent a threat to the structure of authority in the village or to its relations with other villages. The recitation of other people’s genealogies and the use of provocative language were regarded seriously for this reason, as were acts of adultery in which the woman concerned was the wife of a matai or a pastor. A claim by a matai that his title was of greater standing than it was generally admitted to be was similarly

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 287 regarded. In a few places we were told of offences whose seriousness it was less easy to recognize in the changing conditions of modern life. Such, for example, was that of an important chief who had refused to allow his taupou to enter into a politically advantageous marriage arranged by the alii and faipule. Crimes of violence, such as fighting,

assault, rape and murder, also came into this category. When the alii and faipule dealt with these, they considered both the criminal act of the individual and the civil consequences for the families or villages to which the persons involved belonged. The keeping of the peace might require the payment of compensation, or the performance of an act of obeisance, to the family or village of the wronged party.

Even when the High Court had dealt with a particular act in its criminal aspect, the ali’i and faipule often felt constrained to take decisions in regard to its civil consequences.

In view of the objectives of judicial action, it was natural that penalties should traditionally have been imposed, in many cases, upon a family or upon a matai, as its head, rather than upon the individual wrongdoer. There was still a widespread feeling that this was

appropriate in matters that affected a family’s relations with its neighbours, such as the commission of adultery or the recitation of genealogies or when the matai himself—the symbol and exponent of family attitudes—was the offender. But opinions on this question were gradually changing. In some villages we were told that the punishment of a family for the act of an individual was regarded as wrong and had now been abandoned. And in a few the realistic rider was added that the punishment of a matai inevitably involved his family, since he would require its help in the payment of his fine, even though the penalty was imposed on him individually. The most common form of penalty was a fine. Till recent times this was always levied basically in terms of food, though other elements might be included, such as the presentation of a fine mat to the family

of the victim. Fines in food were still considered appropriate as the penalty for major offences. At Sala’ilua, for example, we were told that a family had been fined one bullock, four pigs, four hundred ‘pans of bread’ and four tins of biscuits, because one of its taulele’a had

been found guilty of adultery, and that another taule’ale’a had been fined five pigs and four tins of biscuits for using provocative language. Where the amount of food involved was relatively small, it would be

consumed by the fono itself; but, where it was larger, much of it would reach other members of the various households in the village.

288 SAMOA MO SAMOA And, in this way, the injury that had been done to the harmony of the village would be repaired or mitigated. In some villages—generally the more conservative—fines for minor offences were also levied in food. But food fines often tended to lead to argument; and they were, in any case, susceptible only to rough and complicated graduation. If the fine were a pig, the judges had a vested interest as consumers in obtaining a large one, whereas the offender had a similar interest in providing as small a one as he could get them to accept. When the fine was very small—for example, a kettle of cocoa—these deficiences were particularly apparent. In many villages, therefore, money fines had been introduced. For breach of the curfew, neglect of plantation work, or failure to collect rhinoceros beetles, a fine of 2s., increased to 3s. or 4s. for subsequent or aggravated offences, was commonly imposed. In some places rather more serious

offences, such as theft or trespass, were beginning to be dealt with

in the same way. The levying of money fines thus seemed to be gaining wider acceptance with the gradual spread of European ideas of law and justice and of involvement in the money economy. To introduce a greater element of reality into our understanding of the situation in the villages, we always asked questions about the offences for which penalties had actually been imposed during the two years preceding our visit. The answers we obtained were obviously incomplete, particularly in regard to minor offences; but they did give us a broad picture of the problem of the ali’i and faipule in maintaining

law and order. Theft emerged as easily the most common offence, followed by fighting, gambling, drinking, and entering houses by

night. In the villages near Apia, home-brewing had attained an importance that it lacked elsewhere. Among serious offences that had

been punished, perhaps the most significant was rape, which had been dealt with in three villages, although it was clearly a matter that— like murder—should have been reported to the police.

Samoan society was not one, however, in which the imposition of fines could constitute the whole of an effective penal system. Antagonisms between families and between individuals often became

. bitter and persistent. The danger that those who felt themselves agerieved would seek to redress their wrongs, forcibly and by acts of violence, was always present. Traditional procedures of reconciliation

—such as fine-mat presentation—were intended to prevent such eventualities. But in former times they had been supplemented by the imposition of capital punishment, by degrading procedures for the

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humiliation of an offender, and by orders of banishment. Now, a sentence of capital punishment could be imposed only by the High Court; changing opinions, backed by the action of the churches and

the government, had led to the virtual abandonment of the old methods of humiliation; and banishment was becoming less common

and more difficult to impose because of government policy. This was one of the reasons why the ali’i and faipule generally informed the police of major crimes of violence: the government could hang or imprison, and they could not. But banishment, at least, had by no means been abandoned. For any major offence (which, by definition, was one that impaired the harmony of village life) a period of banishment was still commonly thought to be desirable. Acceptance of it by those concerned—the offender and, in some cases, his family—was itself a demonstration of respect for authority; and the circumstances surrounding their eventual return—apology and a promise of conformity—laid the basis of future harmony. Additionally, the period of absence gave

time for hard feelings to die down. Orders of banishment were commonly obeyed by those upon whom they were imposed. The Department of Samoan Affairs, while not formally condoning banish-

ment, considered that offenders were wise to accept it; but, if a request were made, it would arrange for the return of those concerned to their village and warn the ali’i and faipule against harrassing them. Over the years this policy had led to the development, as an alternative

to banishment, of the procedure of excluding persons from participation in village affairs. In many places this was regarded with strong disfavour, since—it was contended—the continuing presence of

these excluded created the risk of a lasting split in the village. But Samoan opinion on the subject was changing. Progressively-minded men viewed banishment as an unworthy survival from the past and regarded temporary exclusion from village affairs as the severest sentence that the fono should impose. In this matter, as in the whole of the legislative and judicial activity

of the villages, there was thus considerable variation in both belief

and practice. Village government, like the central government, was moving forward; but it was moving rather slowly, and the base

from which it was advancing remained the ancient custom of the people. The degree to which the policy and practice of a particular village had changed depended primarily upon the calibre and outlook of the leading matai. Where the most influential men were relatively

290 SAMOA MO SAMOA young and reasonably well educated, innovation could be expected. Where they were old and brought up wholly within the traditional world, conservatism remained deeply entrenched. Where there were none with a dominant influence or understanding, changing circumstances had produced a decay in village authority.

The conflict of outlook was neatly epitomized during our visit to Sa’anapu, a conspicuously well-run village. Its leading chief, our colleague “Anapu Solofa, was both able and—by the standards of his time—well educated. Its most influential orator, Lauvi Vainu’u, who had been the pulenu’u for many years, was some twenty-five years older, a man with little formal education but respected for his knowledge of tradition and his native ability. When we were discussing the question of fines, Lauvi informed us that, as pulenu’u and a member of the village committee, he punished even the most trivial plantation

offences ‘always . . . with food, never in money’. When we were discussing banishment and exclusion from village affairs, ’Anapu told us that he insisted on the penalty being restricted to the offender alone and that in no circumstances would a matai be banished, since he was responsible for the maintenance of the family plantation. Thus, even in a single village, conservative and progressive practices could exist side by side. That they should both exist without forming the basis of dissension in Sa’anapu was, however, primarily a reflection of the position and personal qualities of ’Anapu himself. In matters that he thought important, his opinion prevailed; but, in lesser ones, he was content to leave the initiative with the pulenu’u. Beyond the village level, the customary basis of political organization had been far less resistant to the disintegrating effects of modern change. The orator groups of the political centres could no longer organize their districts as they had done in former times; and important matai titles counted for considerably less outside the villages to which

they belonged than they had once done. This disintegration reflected the fact that authority had always been less stable at the district

level than at that of the village. Its extent had been demonstrated two years earlier in the inability of most districts to reach agreement on their nominations for membership of the Legislative Assembly. In some districts the traditional fono still met intermittently, to deal with matters of a ceremonial kind (such as the arrangements for a projected visit by the High Commissioner) or to provide an opportunity for discussion of general problems; and occasionally such a fono would impose the penalty of banishment from district affairs

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upon a village that had declined to participate in these corporate activities. But in other districts even this degree of unity had been lost, so that few meetings were held on a wider basis than that of the sub-

district. In either case, the power to take effective action—in so far as it could be taken at all by districts or sub-districts—mainly resided in institutions of more recent origin and generally with more restricted functions.

The situation in Fa’asaleleaga may be taken as an example of district activity of the more effective kind. The district fono still met to discuss general problems or to prepare for important occasions, since the exceptionally high standing of the orator group at Safotulafai continued to provide a focus of district unity. But, in addition, there were separate health and agricultural committees covering the whole district and composed of representatives chosen by the fono of the individual villages. The former of these was engaged in raising funds for new buildings at the district hospital and for a proposed water supply and was responsible for providing various forms of assistance to the hospital staff. The latter prescribed the minimum area to be planted by each family in the principal food and cash crops and inspected plantations every two months. The division into four Faipule constituencies had, however, created a different organizational focus

that was important for some purposes. Apart from their primary significance, in relation to the election and activities of the Faipule, the constituencies had become the accepted units for local efforts relating to education. Each constituency had an education committee composed of the Faipule, as chairman, and a representative of each sub-village. These committees both organized the required assistance to village schools and pressed local claims upon the government for improvements. From time to time, the four committees held a joint

meeting for the discussion of common problems; but executive authority remained with them individually. “This is a co-operative

district’, we were told at Safotulafai; and, despite the somewhat embittered feelings between Safotulafai and Sapapali’i in regard to Faipule elections, this was generally true. District organization was— and has remained—more effective in Fa’asaleleaga than in most parts of Samoa.

The high point in district co-operation was reached in another Savai’i district, Gaga’emauga, where more basic constitutional innovations had been made. A district committee had been formed under the leadership of an important and highly respected chief,

292 SAMOA MO SAMOA Suisala, with the able assistance of a Samoan medical practitioner, Ieremia, and a local trader, Galuvao Farani.* The fono of each village nominated a number of members, which varied in rough proportion to village population. As president of the committee, Suisala retained the right of rejecting nominees, in order to keep out disputatious or unsuitable individuals. At the time of our visit, the secretary was a matai who was also a school-teacher. The committee was thus broadly ‘representative of the progressive elements in the district. Meetings were held monthly; and the execution of the more important tasks was generally delegated to sub-committees.

Already the committee had built up a highly creditable record of achievements. A new concrete ward block had been erected at the hospital; the old residency at Fagamalo had been obtained from the government and altered to make it suitable for a district school; and electric lighting had been provided for Fagamalo village. The maintenance of such buildings and equipment, and of water supplies, was

similarly attended to by the committee. Something had also been done towards promoting agricultural development; but this was regarded as the committee's next major objective. In 1949 it had entered a very different field of activity by conferring judicial powers on its president. In this capacity he had imposed a money fine for a

minor case of theft and referred two more serious cases—one of ‘attempted rape’ and one of theft—to the police.

The leaders of the committee had thought very carefully about both their objectives and their methods. In deciding that the president should assume judicial powers, for example, they had had a number of considerations in mind. They disapproved strongly of the old practice of punishing a family, rather than an individual; and they considered that the imposition of fines in kind often led to excessive penalties and to interference with economic effort. They wished to establish * Both Ieremia and Galuvao, in their different ways, had a standing in the European, as well as in the Samoan, world. The former held the matai title of Manuta at Matavai, in Safune; but, like some other Samoans with professional qualifications or in salaried employment, he used only his personal name. Galuvao Farani, more commonly known as Frank Brunt, was of part-European descent. In subsequent years he rose to senior rank in the public service and was eventually appointed Director of Broadcasting. He lost this latter appointment by a decision of the public service appeal board and resigned from the service. He is at present (1966) Member of Parliament for one of the Gaga’emauga constituWA district committee of a modern type had also been formed in the sub-district of Safata, in southern Tuamasaga; but at the time of our visit it had not attempted to assume such wide powers.

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uniformity of punishment for similar offences and to integrate the judicial activities of the district with those of the High Court. With their development projects they attached great importance to the preparation of careful estimates of costs before levies were imposed on the people to raise the necessary funds. When constructional work was in progress, committee members set an example by undertaking manual

labour themselves. Even Suisala, despite his age and standing, had worked regularly on the building that the committee had erected at the hospital. The committee’s activities had thus brought great satisfaction to the

district. The new amenities were a source of pride, as well as of utility; the new judicial procedure—it was believed—had reduced petty crime; and a new sense of optimism seemed to have been created.

But these advances had not been made without opposition. The committee’s success had, in itself, antagonized some of the matai who had not shared actively in its attainment. Its financial levies had imposed a drain on private resources. Its judicial work had impinged on the traditional prerogatives of the ali’i and faipule. And, in addition to these direct sources of opposition, there were others which derived

from older splits within the constituent villages. The village of Matautu, for example, had ceased to function as a political unit: its former authority was wholly exercised by its sub-villages. In several other cases less permanent splits made it impossible for the whole fono to meet as one, in the normal way. These differences tended to be reflected in attitudes towards the district committee, since what one

group supported was likely to be opposed by its antagonists. The maintenance of the committee’s work thus demanded not only administrative efficiency but also a high level of diplomacy. The difficulties faced by the Gaga’emauga district committee were

characteristic of those which permeated the structure of district activities in most parts of Samoa. The villages of a Faipule constituency, for example, could in some cases meet amicably at election times and agree on a single nomination; in others they could maintain a compromise by which each section of the constituency—a single village or group of villages—had its turn in making the nomination; but in still others the section with the majority of votes always insisted on having its way. And acceptance of majority decision did not come

easily to many villages, since they were so largely autonomous in other matters. In one of the two constituencies of the sub-district of Aleipata, in Atua, two villages that had been unable to replace the

294 SAMOA MO SAMOA sitting Faipule by one of their own matai had refused to co-operate in any matters with their neighbours for some years. These rivalries and antagonisms tended to become even more important where the co-operation of a larger group of villages was necessary. The most difficult cases of all arose where more than one traditional district was involved. Economic and technological factors often made it desirable, for example, that a hospital or a proposed water supply should serve

parts of several districts; but the appointment of a joint committee covering the whole politically divided area presented problems that more often than not remained unsolved. Old allegiances, which were often too weak to keep a district together, were still strong enough to impede its co-operation with its neighbours.

The position in Gaga’emauga was also typical in another way. The notable progress that had been made there was the result of devoted work by a small group of able men. At the time of our visit Galuvao had already left the district; Ieremia, as a government officer, was certain to be transferred eventually to another post; and Suisala was feeling the effects of his advancing years. Could the district council

maintain its influence and its momentum when their guiding hands had been removed? A few other men of ability had come to share their enthusiasm; but it seemed doubtful to us whether they were ready to assume the complex duties of leadership. These patterns, indeed, permeated the whole fabric of district and village government. Tradition remained strong and provided a basis of stability, at the village level at least; but it complicated the task of adapting policies and procedures to the needs of modern times. Men of

imagination and courage came to the fore and persuaded their colleagues of the need for new methods and greater efforts; but the changes they imposed remained precariously based. Innovations could

not be entrenched through legal enactment; they could only win general acceptance through usage, as older customs had done. As a result, the picture of Samoan rural local government that emerged was

a patchwork of progress and stagnation, of strong leadership and declining authority, of optimism for the future and nostalgia for the past.

Where local authority was progressive, strong and infused with optimism, every aspect of life was affected for the better. Co-operation in maintaining law and order and in promoting social services normally went hand in hand with vigorous communal action in the economic field and with good relations between rival churches (a matter of great

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importance). Where such conditions prevailed, relations with the central government were also likely to be of a constructive kind. The local authorities looked to the government for help and were willing to shoulder their own share of responsibility. In places where authority was unprogressive, weak and divided, on the other hand, the whole of communal life was affected for the worse. Some of the taulele’a, in particular, tended to drift away to other villages or to Apia, so that,

through the loss of their labour, even the possibility of economic advance was reduced. In their relations with the government badly administered districts and villages tended to be demanding in their claims for help, while being unwilling to make their own contribution to the usual kind of joint effort; and they tended to regard government

action, even when they had asked for it, with suspicion. Was it sufficient? Was it in the form in which they had wanted it? Did one local faction stand to gain more from it than another? Did it derogate, in any way, from the prerogatives of the ali’i and faipules

As part of the preparation for self-government, an effective policy

towards the control of local affairs was, therefore, of the greatest importance. The allegiance of the people to their particular districts and villages was bound to remain a major factor in political life. The

traditional system of control was still a living one, susceptible to growth and change, not merely the fossilized remains of an old system of privilege. This was, indeed, the firm basis of Samoan political stability. Upon it new leaders had shown that they could erect a superstructure well suited to the changed needs of modern times; but

their task was difficult, its results constantly endangered by the ebb and flow of influence and opinion. And the bonds between the central government and the local authorities were those of personality, of influence and of interest alone, not those linking superior and subordinate institutions in a unified system of government. Unless the whole basis of this relationship could be changed, and unless the progressive elements in the districts and villages could be encouraged through government action, it seemed to me—and to my colleagues on the commission—that a self-governing Samoa would be created

which would neither satisfy completely the people’s immediate aspirations nor be fully competent to ensure their long-term objectives of freedom and prosperity for an increasing population.

296 SAMOA MO SAMOA WHAT action, then, could be taken by the government to achieve this

co-ordination of its own activities with those of the districts and villages? When the time came to find an answer to this question, one difficulty, at least, had been largely dispersed. The experience gained on our malaga had greatly reduced the initial differences of opinion amongst us. Those of us, such as myself, who had tended to see the problem in modern terms or to be concerned with the attainment of modern ends had come to appreciate more sensitively the continuing strength and importance of custom; and those who, like Fa’amatuainu, had at first sought only a means for buttressing the old order against the forces of change had come to accept the need for innovation.

As a basic tenet of our thinking, we all accepted the objective of harnessing existing loyalties and enthusiasms and of controlling and redirecting them by persuasion, so far as possible, rather than by official edict. This involved us immediately in the abandonment of any attempt to prescribe a uniform system of government for all districts and villages. Instead, we decided that schemes should be prepared by particular areas and, after consideration and any necessary

amendment, be given legal recognition. To advise the government in these matters, we proposed the establishment of a District and Village Government Board. Broadly, we conceived of the board as a link between the government and the local authorities interpreting the requirements of cach to the other and working out the details of their co-operation. We considered that these functions could be performed satisfactorily only by a body of men in close touch with popular opinion and uncommitted to existing administrative procedures. We, therefore, decided to recommend that the board should be composed of the members of the Council of State and six other members nominated by the Fono of Faipule. The latter group of members, we emphasized, should be chosen on the basis of their personal suitability for the work they would have to do and not as representatives of particular parts of the

country. We also recommended the appointment of a full-time secretary, as the board’s principal executive officer. This post, we considered, should be filled by a Samoan; but, as no Samoan then possessed all the necessary qualifications, we proposed that the man appointed should be sent abroad to widen his experience and that he should have the assistance initially of a European adviser. We thought that during the first few years the board’s main work

would consist of examining proposals brought forward for the

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 297 establishment of district and village authorities. The secretary would be expected to provide expert assistance in the framing of such proposals; and the board would then discuss them in detail with representatives of the district or village concerned. At the latter stage, we considered, the board should be able to secure the elimination of any undesirable provisions, since a favourable recommendation from it

would be a necessary preliminary to legal recognition. But it was intended that this power should be exercised conservatively, since support for more modern forms of administration was expected to grow naturally out of local experience. Provided our expectations should prove justified, the board would thus find itself dealing, in later years, with a significant stream of proposals for reorganization.

The remaining powers proposed for the board were those of confirming local regulations, advising the government on financial assistance to local authorities, and, through the secretary, instituting training courses for clerks and other local officials. In all these ways, it was hoped that the standards of district and village administration could be raised. The establishment of the District and Village Government Board was seen by the commission as not only the central part of its proposals but as the part on which action must first be taken, so that the govern-

ment might be provided with informed advice on the various issues that would arise. Thus, as soon as we had made a preliminary survey of the scope and character of all our recommendations we issued

a ‘first report’.8 In this we explained that we wished to give the maximum time for discussion of the proposed board and for the preparation of the necessary legislation. But we added further reasons

for presenting our recommendations in two stages: the desire to advance public discussion as far as possible before my own departure from the territory; and the need to consolidate the goodwill that our

malaga had created throughout the country. On the latter point we wrote at some length. We are conscious that, in politics, it is often as important for a Government to time its actions correctly, as it is for it to take the right actions. In respect of the subjects of our inquiry, the important time is the present. We have found, during the course of our work, that there is a growing expectation of constructive results. This situation can, in the opinion of the Commission, be of the greatest help to the Government in implementing our proposals, In all parts of Samoa, the people will receive the Govern-

ment’s proposals with sympathy and with the desire to make them a

298 SAMOA MO SAMOA success. If advantage is to be taken of this opportunity, it is necessary that some early action should be taken, in order to confirm the expectations of the people. A decision by the Government to establish the proposed Board would, in the opinion of the Commission, be the proper form for such action to take. If no action should be taken in the near future, the interest at present shown in our work might become a liability, instead of an asset. Expectation would be replaced by disappointment, and there would be a feeling that the Government had not been in earnest

in its expressed desire to deal with the subjects of our inquiry. When action was finally taken, it would be in circumstances much less favourable than those which now exist.®

These words were not only a statement on political tactics but also a

reflection of an incipient fear that the government might, in fact, prove dilatory in dealing with our recommendations. We presented this first report to the High Commissioner early in October, with an expression of hope that he would provide an opportunity for its discussion during the session of the Legislative Assembly that was to open later in the month. When he expressed some doubt of the practicability of doing so and referred to the already crowded

programme for the session, I suggested that the Samoan members would find ways of referring to the subject in debates nominally concerned with other issues and that it would be best to allow me to move a purely neutral motion that would permit discussion of the report, while avoiding endorsement of its recommendations. As a government officer, I could take no stronger action to procure his acceptance of the commission’s wishes. But I reported the discussion to the Fautua. When they saw him shortly afterwards, they remarked —so they told me later—that discussion of our report would, of course, be the most important item on the assembly’s agenda. His comment

that it might not be discussed at all was received with simulated surprise and a request for a favourable decision. In this way acceptance of our wishes was conceded.

But the Fautua were still not satisfied that the stage had been adequately set for the debate. They, therefore, arranged a meeting at Tamasese’s house between members of the commission and the Samoan members of the assembly. Questions were asked about the proposals in the report and points noted down for inclusion in members’ speeches. As a result, when I rose a few days later to speak in the assembly, I was confident of unanimous Samoan support. In my speech, though I refrained from asking for immediate endorsement of

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our recommendations, I felt that I succeeded in underlining their importance and making a case for prompt decision once the necessary

consultation and discussion had been completed. But, when Tofa Tomasi rose after me, he merely seconded the motion formally and resumed his seat. Had some last-minute hitch occurred? Had there been some totally unexpected change of opinion? For a moment I felt perplexed and somewhat disturbed. Then, Tamasese moved that the motion should be amended, so as to express approval, in general principle, of our recommendations.* The real debate then began, on

the proposed amendment—as an endorsement of our work, rather than as an uncommitted comment upon it. This was the eventuality that the High Commissioner had been most anxious to prevent. To avoid embarrassment to me, the Fautua and Samoan members had decided upon their tactics at a meeting of which I had not been informed. As member after member committed himself on an issue on which the official view remained uncrystallized, the High Commissioner became increasingly worried. For myself,

while I understood his anxiety, I was elated by the unexpectedly favourable circumstances in which the commission would be able to conclude its work.

We treated the first report as an interim statement; and the final report, which was completed at the end of November, restated the proposal for a District and Village Government Board, as well as making recommendations on other matters relevant to our terms of reference and setting the whole of our conclusions in their historical, social and economic context. From the past we deduced two general principles that underlay the whole of our thinking. .... First of all, the history of events before the German annexation of Western Samoa shows that a Samoan Government, in which real responsibility resides in Samoan hands, must be firmly based on Samoan tradition and on Samoan ideas of right and wrong if it is to be strong and stable. The Central Government must be responsive to Samoan opinion, and it must be firmly linked with the authorities in the districts and villages,

which are in everyday contact with the great majority of the people. Failure in these matters contributed greatly to the breakdown of Samoan * As finally adopted by the assembly, the motion read: “That this Assembly expresses its thanks to His Excellency the High Commissioner for releasing the “First Report of the Commission to Inquire into and Report upon the Organiza-

tion of District and Village Government in Western Samoa,’ welcomes the opportunity to discuss it, and approves, in general principle, of the recommendations contained in the report’ (DVG, 6).

300 SAMOA MO SAMOA government in the nineteenth century. If we can now succeed where our predecessors failed, we shall be laying the firmest possible foundation for the development of Samoan self-government. A second principle which stands out clearly is the need for full Samoan participation in the working-out of policy. From the establishment of the German Government in 1900 till very recently, European officers tended to treat the Samoan people almost as children who needed looking after by their wise and benevolent rulers. . . . One result of this attitude was the treatment of Samoan affairs as being outside the ordinary range

of Government activities. They became the play-ground of a small group of specialists, who tended to lose touch both with other aspects of the Government’s work and, far more seriously, with Samoan opinion itself. For years Samoans were excluded from the Legislative Council, as the Secretary of Native Affairs was declared to be the right person to

speak there on their behalf. This situation made it impossible for the Secretary to have an entirely normal relationship with the Samoan people,

for no one can feel entirely at ease in the presence of a person whose profession requires him to claim greater knowledge of oneself and one’s needs than one possesses oneself.

This attitude towards Samoan affairs was always more pleasing to European officials than to the Samoan people. Many times, over the last thirty years, there have been requests for the right of fuller participation in political life... . Since 1947, of course, paternalism in Samoan affairs has become wholly unsuited to the political position of the country. . . 1°

Though we drew in these ways upon the past, as well as upon the present, for an understanding of Samoan belief and behaviour, our

direct concern was with the future. We emphasized with equal firmness, therefore, the changes that had already taken place and that

were still continuing, and framed our recommendations as a contribution towards the making of a modern self-governing Samoan state.

Wherever possible, we sought to facilitate evolutionary change

by the removal of existing obstacles to it or by the provision of channels that would enable the central government to exercise a positive and progressive influence. This policy in itself involved some immediate legislative and administrative changes; and there were, in addition, some matters in which reform could be implemented only by direct government action. But we believed that, wherever possible, government action should be limited to suggestion or persuasion. Our

recommendations regarding the structure of district and village

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authorities were along these lines. We considered that the general form of the constitutions of local authorities should be prescribed in general legislation but that their actual membership, and the manner of election or appointment of members of district or village committees, should be determined by special proclamation in each case. We commended many of the innovations that we had encountered on our malaga (for example, the institution of district committees such as that in Gaga’emauga and the admission of taulele’a and women to

membership of village committees); but we expressed the opinion

that action in support of these innovations should be limited to persuasion. In only one matter relating to membership did we think that general legislative action was necessary. This was the problem of the matai residing in a village other than that in which he held his title. We argued that custom sanctioned the participation of such a man in the work of the village fono, provided he had demonstrated his

willingness to co-operate fully in village affairs. Since failure to concede this right frequently led to trouble, we recommended that it should be guaranteed by law. We considered that the powers of local authorities should be defined in a similar way. As a beginning, the existing conflict of jurisdiction between the central government and local authorities should be brought to an end. Detailed study was necessary, we suggested, of many of the matters at present dealt with under local regulations or in accordance with custom. Where practice was uniform throughout the territory, it would be preferable, in some cases, to provide for offences under general legislation. The limits to the regulation-making power exercisable by local authorities should also be defined by law. We indicated, broadly, what this power should include but proposed that, within these limits, it should be separately fixed for each local authority. Before becoming operative all regulations should be confirmed by the District and Village Government Board. This safeguard seemed a necessary one, in view of the lack of legal knowledge in the districts and villages. But we emphasized that the board should use its power, not in an effort to impose uniformity, but simply to ensure that regulations were in conformity with the law and with the broad principles of justice.

This procedure required that regulations should be properly recorded in writing. And, more generally, we attached considerable importance to the keeping and use of written records as a means of raising the standard of district and village government. The executive

302 SAMOA MO SAMOA officers of local authorities were to possess copies of all legislation affecting local government, to keep a record of all judicial proceedings and to keep accounts, in a simple and standardized form, of all revenue

and expenditure. On the financial side, there were to be additional requirements, including the placing of a limit on the amount that could be kept in cash and provision for a regular audit. At the village level, the pulenu’u would become the principal executive officer of the local authority, as well as retaining his existing

functions as representative of the central government. His salary would continue to be paid by the government. We fully recognized, however, that many pulenu’u lacked the knowledge that would be needed for the successful handling of their new responsibilities. We suggested two principal measures for dealing with this problem: a substantial raising of the salaries of pulenu’u in villages that came under the new local government system, in order to attract abler men to the position; and the appointment of a clerk to assist each pulenu’u in such

villages. By the second of these measures we hoped to bring into the work of local government some of the better educated taulele’a. If a

clerk’s qualifications were accepted as adequate by the board, he would become entitled, like the pulenu’u himself, to a government salary and would be required to attend a course of instruction in the duties of his post. Since the work of both the pulenu’u and his clerk would be only of a part-time character, this elaboration of the administrative structure of a village did not seem likely to divert their energies from the more basic responsibilities of rural life. At the district level, less immediate action seemed necessary, since

many district committees met only infrequently and the range of their administrative functions was generally very limited. However, we

believed that encouragement should be given whenever a district wished to transfer duties normally vested in the individual villages to a district committee, such as that already existing in Gaga’emauga. If a district asked for the recognition of a committee of this kind as

part of the machinery of local government, we thought that the board should view the request sympathetically; and we suggested that consideration might be given to the payment of a salary to its secretary, on the same basis as to a pulenu’u. We further recommended that particularly favourable consideration should be given to requests

for financial assistance for developmental projects when they were being undertaken on a district basis.

One of the more controversial problems in a country such as

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Western Samoa is that of the administration of justice at the local government level. Government officers with a legal training tend to feel a repugnance to the vesting of judicial powers in an authority that also possesses legislative and executive functions. In Samoa these oflicers had not been exposed to a contrary line of thinking, such as that which

had long prevailed in many British colonies; and, therefore, this feeling was particularly firmly entrenched. In conformity with it, fa’ amasino Samoa itimald (Samoan district judges) continued to be appointed. But, since they were given neither training nor the facilities

for the holding of courts, the appointments were almost entirely ineffective; and the jurisdiction of the alii and faipule, exercised in accordance with custom, had thus remained the mainstay of law and order everywhere except in the vicinity of Apia. We argued that the judicial functions of the ali’i and _faipule should

be accepted, in broad principle at least, not only because they were being exercised fairly effectively but also because they possessed certain additional merits. In matters relating to the maintenance of justice, tradition plays an exceptionally important part. Any institution charged with judicial functions should enjoy the respect of the people as a whole. They should accept it as the proper body to perform such work, and they should assume that it will generally discharge its duty in a proper way. Such acceptance of an institution comes most fully from long experience of it. For such reasons, the Commission is of opinion that the traditional jurisdiction of the ali’i and faipule should be carried on by the legally recognized district and village authorities, within limits set by law.

But how should these limits be defined? District and village authorities would undoubtedly continue to perform a considerable amount of quasi-judicial work, dealing, for example, with disputes over land and titles; but in these matters they would be acting as arbitrators or conciliators, and their work seemed to require no legal recognition. The power of trying and punishing offenders, on the contrary, was one with which the law could not remain unconcerned.

We made two basic recommendations: that the composition and powers of the proposed judicial authority should be included in the constitution of each local authority; and that powers should be limited to the trial of persons charged with offences against local regulations or against ordinances, or other legal enactments, specifically

declared to be enforceable in this way. We considered that the distinction made by the ali’i and faipule between offences against custom

304 SAMOA MO SAMOA that threatened the structure of authority and other offences should be accepted by the board. In regard to offences of the first type, we thought that the practice of trial by the fono and of the imposition of penalties in foodstuffs still served a useful purpose. ‘In the course of time it may be changed’, we wrote, “but it would be wrong to Oppose it at the present time out of a mistaken desire to fit in with Western legal principles.’!2 In regard to other offences, which were responsible for the great bulk of judicial work in the villages, we expressed our strong support for the changes that had been made in many places. The growing practice of letting the pulenu’u and a committee handle these matters merited formal endorsement through incorporation in village constitutions. We recommended that the pulenu’u and his clerk should be provided with instruction in court

procedure. The fixing of fines in terms of money should also be encouraged; and, in the case of penalties for ‘petty misdemeanours’, we suggested that the alternative of fines in food should not be permitted. By these means, together with the keeping of written records,

the guaranteeing of a defendant’s right to be heard in his defence and the provision of a system of appeal, we believed that local judicial

tribunals could be created that would satisfy the requirements of justice, as well as being firmly based on custom. On a number of grounds, we considered that a need existed for courts intermediate in jurisdiction between the district and village

tribunals and the High Court sitting under the Chief Judge or a Commissioner of the Court. These intermediate courts could appropriately hear appeals from the local tribunals and handle cases in which

the legality of a local authority’s actions was challenged. Moreover, many ordinances and government regulations, such as those dealing

with trade, could be more conveniently administered by courts sitting in the part of the country in which a particular offence was alleged to have occurred. But how should these courts be organized? On some points we were clear. The judges should be Samoans; they should receive training and be given experience of sitting in the High

Court with the Chief Judge; they should have the assistance of the staff necessary for the orderly and dignified conduct of hearings;

and they should hold office for a longer term than the existing faamasino Samoa itimald. Territorially, they should be organized on the basis of the new districts that we were proposing for the coordination of central government activities at the local level, and not upon that of the more numerous traditional districts. But beyond

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 305 that we were less certain. We suggested two possible courses of action. A district court, separate from the High Court, could be established in

each of the proposed districts or a new form of jurisdiction could be created within the framework of the High Court. If the latter proposal were adopted, it would merely be necessary to increase the number of associate judges, so that some would be available to go on circuit while their colleagues maintained the judicial establishment required in Apia.

Though we did not express a preference for one course or the other, the latter seemed to me to possess the greater merits. In addition to making recommendations for the development of

legislative and executive authority at the local level, and for the appropriate judicial arrangements, we considered it desirable to discuss

relationships between the people and the functional departments of the central government. A number of departments—in particular, Education, Health, Agriculture, Radio and the Post Office—carried out a considerable part of their work in the rural areas. For administrative purposes, these departments organized their work in terms of districts or regions. The Health and Education Departments had also to work in very close contact with the people, since the latter were required to assist in the provision of buildings and services. It was

clear, too, that, as the Department of Agriculture developed, it would also be involved in increasingly close collaboration with the people.

This situation was certain to last for a long time, as the central government lacked the resources for the full support of the services it

provided. But existing arrangements did not always facilitate the enlistment of local co-operation. For one thing, the different departments had not developed their district organization on a common

geographical basis. Far more importantly, departmental districts necessarily overlapped the traditional political districts, since they were areas that could be conveniently administered from one central point.

In Savai’i, for example, one medical district included Fa‘asaleleaga and parts of Palauli and Satupa’itea, as this area could be serviced by the road that ran from Pu’apu’a, in northern Fa’asaleleaga, to Tufu

Gautavai, in Palauli. (The remainder of Palauli and Satupa‘itea, physically separated from the political centres of the two districts by

an un-roaded lava field, formed parts of another medical district.) The long-standing political division between the traditional districts made it difficult to obtain common action by all the people covered by a departmental district of this kind. The general opinion in govern-

306 SAMOA MO SAMOA ment circles was that such common action could seldom be hoped for; but to the commission this seemed needlessly—and almost culpably—defeatist.

We considered that, as a first step, the existing organization of departmental districts needed ‘tidying up’, both to eliminate the differences between the district units adopted by various departments

and to bring it into line, so far as circumstances permitted, with traditional district boundaries. We suggested an arrangement of seven

departmental districts—four in Upolu and three in Savai’i—along these lines. In each of these districts the work of the departments principally concerned would be under the control of a senior officer—

a senior Samoan medical practitioner, a school inspector, an agricultural officer. We considered, also, that a police officer should be stationed in each district, since this would assist the smooth functioning

of the new courts and also help to ensure that the alii and faipule did not attempt to deal with matters outside their jurisdiction. In each departmental district, we recommended, there should be an

advisory council. Its members should be nominated by the district and village authorities, in numbers proportionate to the population that they served; and its meetings should also be attended by the senior departmental officers of the district. It would be the council’s function to discuss matters relating to development in the various departmental fields; recommendations would be transmitted to the government or to the relevant district and village authorities for action. Each year a consolidated list of proposals for work to be undertaken in the ensuing financial year should be forwarded to the government for consideration when the estimates were being prepared. The success of the councils was dependent, in our opinion, upon the

vigorous continuation of the existing programme of road construction. Once all parts of a departmental district were linked by road, co-operation between all the people concerned became both easier and more natural. When that stage had been reached, the government should give all possible encouragement, we urged, to proposals for the development of central schools and similar unified services. The support of the ali’i and faipule was, of course, no less important; but we believed that it would be readily gained. The strictly advisory character of the councils and the limitation of their work to the discussion of government services would provide an assurance that traditional authority (i.e, the pule) was not being undermined. And the improved services that they could assist in

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bringing into being would soon create a strong interest in making them a success. We consciously framed our case for departmental district councils in a vein of under-statement, in order not to alarm the more conservative matai. But, in fact, we regarded it as one of the key sections of our report. Even the most conservative members of the commission well understood that changing circumstances had made the traditional political units inconveniently small, that modern politics—whatever signs of obeisance we might make to the pule—were a matter of roads

and schools and economic development, rather than of old-time political rivalries. In our private discussions we went over these matters at great length. ‘If our children sit at school next to those from neigh-

bouring districts’, one member said, ‘they will be able to work with them far more easily when they grow up than our own generation can do.’ With our minds fixed on that less immediate future, we saw our action as the planting of a seed from which a new form of local government would eventually spring. As we had begun our report by drawing on the lessons of the past, so we concluded it by referring to Samoa’s future as a self-governing state and drew attention to a number of matters that we considered

relevant to the success both of our own proposals and of Samoan autonomy. We have not .. . been unware that our recommendations, if they are adopted, will have effects beyond the field of district and village govern-

ment; that the success of the recommendations themselves will be, in large degree, dependent upon the policy of the Government in related matters; and that the development of district and village government is, broadly considered, only one aspect of the growth of Samoa towards self-government.13

We pointed to the need for administrative reorganization, in particular to that for strengthening the Secretariat and abolishing the Department of Samoan Affairs. We asked for an early study of financial

policy (including the system of taxation) and of land policy. And we referred to a number of more limited matters that had come to our

attention during our malaga, including the widespread (and, we thought, laudable) interest in establishing the co-operative movement and the need for developing “public relations’ activities. On the latter subject, we drew attention to the demand for informative broadcasts and to the need for the development of a rural library service; but we emphasized, in particular, the importance of creating closer and less

308 SAMOA MO SAMOA formal contacts between government officers and the people. The experience of our own malaga had convinced us that in free and equal

meeting for unhurried discussion lay an indispensable part of the basis of sound political advancement.

After the debate on the first report in the Legislative Assembly, the High Commissioner had asked us to make recommendations on the initial steps to be taken by the government after the completion of our own work. We asked for the publication and wide distribution of our report in both English and Samoan, for the systematic analysis of the information we had collected on existing practice, and for the study of the legal changes that would be necessary to give effect to our

proposals. If this course were taken, we declared, the government should be ‘well on the way’ towards the establishment of a local government system within twelve months of receiving our report.

IN the event, however, 1951 was a year of virtual inaction. The English edition of our report was published but the Samoan edition did not appear till the following year.14 Little or nothing was done about our other suggestions. Before I left Samoa, the Legislative Assembly had adopted a motion asking the government to retain my services, on either a full-time or part-time basis;* but, for reasons that were only partly related to my chairmanship of the commission, it had been clear that no such action would be taken. After my departure there was no one in a position, and with a sufficient incentive, to insist that a timetable of action should be drawn up and kept to. But the reasons for the delay were not wholly administrative. Some of them derived from the High Commissioner’s doubts as to the wisdom of certain of the commission’s proposals. The recommendation

for the establishment of judicial tribunals based on the traditional authority of the ali’i and faipule, in particular, aroused his misgivings. More broadly, he feared that the proposed village authorities would * The text of the motion was: “That the Samoan Government should request the continuation of the services of Dr. J. W. Davidson on a full-time basis or, failing that, for such a period each year as is possible, to carry out his work relative to the political development of Samoa with particular reference to the progress of local government’. The motion was moved by Tofa Tomasi and seconded by Malietoa Tanumafili II. It was agreed to without division. The association with it of Malietoa, as seconder, was intended to emphasize that it was a national, not a partisan, request. The motion is printed in DVG, 7.

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 309 buttress the position of the matai and favoured a more explicit emphasis

on development at a district level. In my opinion, these views were unsound. They derived from a European conception of constitutional

proprieties, rather than from an understanding of the working of Samoan society. They ignored, or underrated, the carefully devised checks upon matai domination, the procedures by which local authorities were to be led towards the adoption of modern methods, the encouragement—particularly in the proposal for departmental district councils—of an eventual demand for a less tradition-based form of local government. But, since they were firmly held (and not only by

the High Commissioner), they sufficed to keep the government inactive during the time when the taking of effective action would have been easiest. The delay did not indicate any intention to ignore the commission’s

report. Though the High Commissioner had reservations, he accepted a majority of its recommendations; and he recognized that they had

the backing of Samoan leaders whom it would be dangerous to antagonize. In December 1951 he consulted the former Samoan members of the commission regarding the action that the government should take. A tentative statement of policy was then prepared and

discussed with commission members and government officers. In June 1952 it was presented to the Fono of Faipule.t> These discussions

revealed the decline in the support for far-reaching reform that the delay had already brought about. Members of the commission stood

firmly by the report; but they evaluated its proposals in relation to the conservation of custom, rather than to the need for change. The Faipule welcomed the intention to give the traditional authorities a legal standing. But, influenced, in part, by the High Commissioner’s reserved and unemotional explanations, they rejected several of the more progressive recommendations. Nervous, as they always were, of proposals for government action impinging on the field of custom,

they could have been convinced only by well-informed and committed advocacy. Their opposition to proposals they considered too radical, coupled with that of the High Commissioner to those he thought too conservative, made it inevitable that action should be less comprehensive than that which had been advocated in the report.

On 1 September 1952 the government introduced a District and Village Government Board Bill in the Legislative Assembly. This was intended to provide the legal and administrative framework for the development ofa local government system and closely followed the L

310 SAMOA MO SAMOA commission’s recommendations. The board was to consist of the members of the Council of State and six members appointed by the High Commissioner on the nomination of the Fono of Faipule. Its

powers were to be broadly those that the commission had recommended. It was to consider proposals for the establishment of district or village authorities; and, when it was satisfied that a par-

ticular scheme was in accord with the law and compatible with custom and natural justice and was supported by the people of the district or village concerned, it was to recommend to the High Commissioner that it should be brought into force by proclamation. As a consequence of the views of the High Commissioner (which were shared by the Minister of Island Territories) on the need to ensure a separation of powers, a separate section of the bill provided for consideration by the board of proposals for the establishment of district or village courts. The board was also to have the varied functions relating to the supervision and assistance of local authorities that had been recommended by the commission. Meetings of the board were to be of two kinds: extraordinary meetings, which would be attended by members of the Council of State; and ordinary meetings, at which only the six appointed members would be present. Formal decisions, such as a recommendation that a local government scheme should be proclaimed, would be taken at full meetings, while the more timeconsuming work of detailed discussion and the hearing of evidence from district or village representatives and others would be dealt with in ordinary meetings. In this matter, too, the bill faithfully followed the proposals of the commission. The government’s action in establishing a District Affairs section of the Secretariat, to perform the principal administrative functions of the former Department of Samoan

Affairs, was also in line with the commission’s thinking; and it was intended that the Assistant Secretary in control of the section should act as secretary to the board. The bill was referred by the assembly to a select committee. For

this and for other reasons, more than a year elapsed between its introduction and its final passage into law. Both the bill itself and the

system of local government that was expected to result from its enactment were warmly praised by the assembly.1® Official members referred forcefully and perceptively to the benefits that would accrue to the central government itself—in the implementation, particularly, of social services and public works policies—and to the value of local

government, both in itself and as a training ground where Samoans

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 311 could prepare themselves for effective participation in national politics. Samoan members referred to the importance of bringing home to the people of the villages the fact that the process of government was one

in which they were as directly involved as the holders of central government office; and they emphasized the need to eliminate the existing clash between legal and customary authority. The European members were no less firm in their support.* But in the points that were selected for emphasis in some official speeches there was an indication of the disappointments that lay ahead. The High Commissioner, while affirming the “extreme importance to the country’ of a local government system, referred to ‘the great difficulty of some of the problems involved’ and said that he had “found a certain measure

of distrust and suspicion of the proposals in quite a number of districts .. ... And the Attorney-General, W. E. Wilson, in a very carefully considered speech, expressed his preference for the initial development of district, rather than village, authorities. This was,

indeed, the government view. Ideally, it was right; but it was a counsel of perfection that, as “Anapu Solofa pointed out, could not be

reconciled with prevailing Samoan opinion.t A related decision on finance further weakened the position: neither district nor village authorities were to be given the power to impose local taxes at this stage; and, if a change were made later, it was intended that it should

be in favour only of district authorities. Further, the provisions relating to district and village courts were deleted from the bill before it was passed, since the Samoa Act had not been amended to bring them within the legislative competence of the assembly. Though the

assembly’s support of the bill was unanimous, and though all its members attached great importance to the changes that were intended

to flow from its enactment, the real prospects for the successful development of local government were not great. Statements by the High Commissioner and official members revealed, at crucial points,

a failure to understand opinion in the outer districts. The delay in acting on the commission’s report had resulted not only in the * The Samoa Bulletin, which reflected influential European opinion outside the assembly, also strongly supported the local government proposals (see the issues for 14 and 28 Aug. 1953). The editor later wrote: “The local government scheme is probably the most important piece of internal legislation ever passed in Western Samoa. It can change the whole character of the Territory’s administration. ...’ (8 Jan. 1954). + ’Anapu Solofa, formerly Leader of the Fono of Faipule, had been elected to the assembly in 1951.

312 SAMOA MO SAMOA resurgence of Samoan conservatism, as shown by the decisions of the Fono of Faipule and the doubts expressed to the High Commissioner on his malaga, but also in the assembly’s incapacity to enact the section of the bill dealing with courts. The official attitude, though it was one of approval, was not complemented by the perceptiveness, the political

adroitness or the sense of commitment that was required for the handling of this peculiarly intricate problem. The District and Village Government Board Ordinance was brought

into force by proclamation on 1 April 1954. The six appointed members of the board included two, Matai’a Siu and Tofilau Siosé,

who had been members of the 1950 commission and two, Va’ai Kolone and Toluono Lama, who had been associate members. Matai’a was appointed deputy-chairman and presided over ordinary meetings.

The Assistant Secretary (District Affairs), Edmund Stehlin, a local European with long experience of Samoan affairs, was appointed secretary to the board; and Etené Sa’aga, the former secretary to the

commission, was appointed his assistant, with the title of Water Supply Officer. This was a good group. But it was deficient in one respect. The commission had recommended that, for the first three years, the board should have the assistance of a European adviser ‘with broad knowledge of local-government matters’. The finding of such a person would have involved the co-operation of the Public Service Commissioner and of authorities in New Zealand. Almost inevitably, no appointment had been made. The High Commissioner and the Fautua were too heavily involved in other duties to be able to give much time to the work of the board; but the appointed members and the secretary and his assistant threw themselves into their work with energy and enthusiasm. At the first meeting the High Commissioner proposed that the board should concentrate initially upon the establishment of authorities to control rural water supplies and, in the field of general local government, upon the establishment of district, rather than village, authorities.

The first of these tasks was both relatively simple and urgent. Water supplies were either in existence or under construction in many parts of the country. The formation of an authority, with the power to make regulations and to raise and administer the funds required for the maintenance or extension of services, satisfied an existing need and presented no challenge to the traditional power of the ali’i and _faipule.

By 1958 twenty-three of these authorities had been legally constituted.

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 313

The High Commissioner’s proposal regarding the formation of local government authorities at the district level presented problems

of a quite different order. Many progressively-minded Samoans accepted it, as an ideal to be worked for. The Gaga’emauga district committee, in Savaii, which had greatly impressed the commission, had been formed by men who held this view. At this time a similarly progressive group—led by a Samoan medical practitioner, a civil servant and two businessmen and active politicians—was trying to promote a council covering Aleipata, Lepa and Lotofaga, in southeastern Upolu. But such projects required exceptional leadership to bring them to fruition; and they were peculiarly susceptible to the

conservatism, the factionalism and the jealousies engendered by Samoan society. Even in 1950 the Gaga emauga district committee had been hampered by local jealousies, and later it had been rendered ineffective by a split between two parts of the district. The proposed district authority in south-eastern Upolu never became a reality. In a

meeting with the board during 1954, Lealaiauloto Aso, M.L.A., expressed the view that the government should permit district authorities to be formed for a more limited area, such as a single Faipule constituency. This, he suggested, “would spread the Local Government idea’ and thus provide a foundation for the later development, through amalgamation, of authorities covering a larger area.1’ Lealaiauloto had been actively associated with the Gaga’emauga experiment. He fully accepted the High Commissioner’s aim; but he believed, as a result of

experience, that it would be realized only by stages. This view was consistent with the evidence on existing practice and opinion that had been collected by the commission four years earlier. And, broadly, it was the view held by the appointed members of the board.

During its first period in office, the board had much work to do apart from facing this problem. In addition to forming water supply authorities, it advised the government on proposed legislation that would closely affect the districts and villages, on the status and functions of the pulenu’u, and on other similar matters. It prepared a draft scheme for the establishment of district authorities and used it as a basis for its discussions with interested groups. It attempted to resolve the differences, such as that in Gaga ‘emauga, which prevented

districts from forming local authorities of the type that the High Commissioner desired.

But the board realized that it could not allow interest in local government to wane;'§ it understood that its task, like that of the

314 SAMOA MO SAMOA commission, was partly political—a matter of manipulating public opinion. For that reason it decided to consider applications from small groups of villages, such as those comprising a Faipule constituency, or even from single villages. In the former category was a proposal from Faleata West, the home area of Matai’a Si’u, and in the latter one from Falefa, the home village of another member, Alai’asa Kolio. By 1958 nearly a dozen other applications had been received, including three

from the separate parts of the disunited Gaga’emauga district. In some cases provisional schemes had been agreed on, and voluntary levies had been made to provide the proposed authorities with funds. Several of these provisional authorities had also attempted to draft by-laws. But this was as far as the achievement went: no local government authority had been legally proclaimed. And the board’s annual reports recorded a steady decline in popular interest. The report for 1958 added a wry comment on the situation in Satupa’itea:

It is however most interesting to note that whereas the LOCAL GOVERNMENT AUTHORITY as such has done nothing so to speak for the ‘district’, the people themselves through the usual assembly of their matai(s) .. . have made excellent progress under their own steam... towards the completion of their Electric Power Scheme.?®

The board did not hesitate to sheet home the blame for this failure. In the words of the 1958 report, °. . . it is because Central Government has failed to play its part’.2° The board had asked that legal problems

relating to the making of by-laws should be sorted out and that legislation should be prepared to empower district authorities to impose taxes. These requests had been accepted in principle, apparently; but no action had followed. It had repeatedly asked for the appointment of an officer to assist districts and villages in the formation of local authorities and to advise them on the development

of their work; but no such appointment had been made. It had recommended changes in the status and manner of appointment of the pulenu’u and a change in the title itself from pulenu’u (literally, village

authority) to sui o le malo (government agent), a term that more accurately described the office; but its recommendation had been rejected. Finally, in its insistence on the development of district authorities of a kind that the people were not yet ready to accept, the government’s principal show of interest had been even less fortunate than its inactivity.

The board’s allocation of responsibility for its failure was not an

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 315 unfair one. But the reasons for the central government’s deficiencies were complex and not wholly discreditable. Legal problems had been neglected, primarily, because of shortage of staff. Some other matters had been affected by the government’s anxiety, particularly during 1957 and 1958, in regard to finance. And, more generally, the attention of both senior officials and political leaders had been diverted from the problems of local government by the more pressing and dramatic ones associated with the reform of the central government itself. The unrealistic approach to local government of the High Commissioner

and other officials, though unfortunate in its consequences, was explicable in terms of one of the common characteristics of expatriates in colonial territories. Faced with the novel facts of an alien culture,

men who, in their own societies, would seldom venture beyond the

bounds of compromise become inflexible and doctrinaire. They believe either that progress is impossible, as had commonly been believed by New Zealanders in Samoa between the formation of the Mau and 1947, or that the past can be written off by the signature to a

legislative act. The problem of local government in Samoa was peculiarly susceptible to this kind of misunderstanding. It was concerned with straightforward matters, like roads and sanitation, as the expatriates knew, but it was concerned with them in a social context that they failed to understand. In 1950 local and expatriate knowledge had been brought together, in the work of the commission.

But in the succeeding years they had been allowed to drift apart. And, as the Samoan leaders themselves became more fully absorbed in the preparations for self-government, it became increasingly certain that that objective would be attained without the foundations having been laid of one of its principal supports: a modern system of local government.

LO THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION 1951-8 URING the 1950s political thought and action in Samoa was

1) aominated by one central theme: the reorganization of the structure and mode of operation of the institutions of central government. In part, this was a consequence of the High Commissioner’s particular bent of mind. ‘I formed the opinion long ago’, he told the Legislative Assembly in 1954, ‘that the biggest obstacle to economic development in Samoa was political—that this obstacle consisted of political uncertainty, of suspicions of the political intentions of the Administering Authority, and of a lack of confidence in the political future of Western Samoa.’! And, since he saw the determination of the political future as the country’s most pressing and important problem, he devoted himself unsparingly to its solution. In part, also, it was a consequence of the preponderant interest of the country’s political leaders. The constitutional changes of 1947-8 had been intended to

provide them with the opportunity both of gaining immediate political experience and of deciding when they were ready for further

moves towards self-government. It was natural, therefore, that, when they had learnt to make full use of their present powers, they should seek a broader participation in the work of government.” In 1951 and 1954 the Fono of Faipule discharged its responsibility for the election of the Samoan members of the Legislative Assembly with greater confidence and skill than it had shown in 1948. The procedure of receiving nominations from the districts was maintained;

but the extra-constitutional practice of referring them to the Fautua for decision was abandoned. Where only one nomination was received,

the Fono simply accepted it; where there were several, it conducted a secret ballot among its members. But in 1951 the nominations were formally presented by the Faipule for the district, who, in a few cases, either consulted the matai only informally or added their own names to those submitted. To overcome these weaknesses a set of rules was adopted before the 1954 election, providing for district meetings and the submission in writing of nominations agreed on at them or made 316

THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION I95I-8 317

in other ways by groups of district matai. The electoral procedure still had its deficiencies. In a ballot, the majority of votes cast were those of Faipule from districts other than that whose representative was being chosen; and, when a serving Faipule was one of the candidates, he was likely to be preferred by his colleagues to an outsider. But these defects

were ones that were inherent in the system of indirect election. The

Faipule, for their part, had evolved a method of working it that accorded fairly well with Samoan opinion.® These two elections were also marked by the return of more capable groups of members. A greater number of progressively-minded men was anxious to come forward as candidates; and in the districts—as a result, in part, of the broadcasting of debates—there was a growing awareness of the qualities needed for effective participation in the work

of the assembly. Three of the four leading Samoan members of the first assembly—Tofa Tomasi, Tualaulelei Mauri and Tuala Tulo— were re-elected in 1951; and, although the fourth, Fonoti Ioane, was defeated as the representative of Atua, he was replaced by the equally progressive and extremely able Leutele Te’o Simaile. Among the others elected in 1951 were ’Anapu Solofa, the Leader of the Fono of Faipule, and To’omata Tua, his predecessor in that office. Leutele, ‘Anapu and To’omata were all men of some education and of broad experience, who had been conspicuously successful as traders and planters and as leaders in their own districts. All three, along with Tualaulelei, later became members of the Samoan cabinet. Before the 1954 election both Tofa and Tuala had died.* And at the election "Anapu, who had been elected as member-at-large (not as one of the eleven district representatives), did not retain his seat;+ but he was replaced in this position by Fonoti. Two of the newly-elected members

—Lealaiauloto Aso and Tufuga Fatu--were men of conspicuous ability. Lealaiauloto, a trader and former headmaster, did not remain in

public life after his first term in the assembly; but Tufuga, who had been trained as a teacher and had become a trader and cocoa planter, later attained cabinet rank. Among the European members, G. F. D. Betham served throughout the period, and others sat for more than one term. The ability and experience of men such as these, together * Tofa Tomasi died in Feb. 1953, at the age of forty-three (Samoa Bulletin, 13 Feb. 1953). Tuala Tulo died in Oct. 1953 (AD, § Oct. 1953, 189).

t He had no chance of becoming the representative of his own district of Tuamasaga, as it decided to adopt the old system of rotation. The sub-district of Vaimauga was accorded the right of making the nomination.

318 SAMOA MO SAMOA with the continued membership of the assembly of the High Commissioner and of Tamasese and Malietoa, as members of the Council of State, led to a progressive raising of the level of debate and decision. Immediately after the general election of 1951, Fonoti Ioane had taken the novel step of calling a public meeting of Samoans to consider

the formation of a political party. Out of this action the Samoan Democratic Party emerged. Men as varied in their outlook as Fonoti himself, the practical businessman, and Fa’amatuainu Tulifau, the traditionalist, joined it; and the link between some of them seems to have been mainly a shared resentment at their failure to obtain or, in Fonotis case, to retain political office. But the party did succeed in adopting a platform in keeping with its name. Its central plank was a demand for universal suffrage, with candidature for election confined

to matai. It also asked for the replacement of the existing Fono of Faipule and Legislative Assembly by a single body with forty-one members representing constituencies based on population, not on the

traditional political divisions. The most interesting of its non-constitutional planks was that recommending the revival of a personal tax,

a proposal well-calculated to develop a greater sense of political responsibility but not one, to judge by the events of the 1920s, likely to have a wide appeal to the electorate. During its first year the party claimed a membership of about three hundred and the support of a substantial proportion of the untitled people; after that it gradually declined. But the election of Fonoti to the Fono of Faipule late in 1951 and his return to the Legislative Assembly in 1954 gave it a place in the

formal political life of the country; and others who were associated with it have since served in public office. Though it was never able to function effectively as a pressure group, its more important policy proposals were brought clearly before the public. The dominant tone of Samoan political thinking remained a more conservative one, characterized by a desire for cautious advance and for maintaining a firm link with the past. On the question of suffrage it was commonly argued that, since a family elected its matai, it was reasonable that he alone should have the right of casting a vote on its

behalf. When a politician in the main stream of Samoan thinking went farther than this, it was usually to say that, while universal suffrage might eventually become acceptable, the change would not occur in his own time. Since universal suffrage was already possessed by the European community, the continued restriction of Samoan

voting rights to the matai made impossible the introduction of a

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common roll, a development that was, in theory, desirable before the

attainment of full self-government. In other matters, however, the political leaders were willing to give a more positive interpretation to their belief that there was a proper time for the making of any particular change. For example, though the more progressive politicians

had considered in 1950 that it was a little too soon to press for the repeal of legislation protecting Samoans against being sued for the recovery of trade debts, a motion seeking this action was accepted unanimously by the assembly in 1952;5 and the Samoan Trade Debts

Ordinance was repealed a year later. In other ways, as well, there was an increasing willingness to consider a reduction in the legal distinctions between Samoans and Europeans; and, at the personal level, a greater number of local Europeans—including, for example, Mrs O. F. Nelson—had themselves declared Samoans.* The people of

Samoa were beginning, cautiously but with assurance, to abandon the forms of racial discrimination that belonged to their paternalist past.

But the strongest emphasis in Samoan political thinking was placed upon the problems of constitutional change that were directly related to the attainment of self-government. After the 1951 elections to the Legislative Assembly, the High Commissioner proposed that an important move should be made in this direction by the establishment of an Executive Council. He suggested that it should consist of the members of the Council of State, three official members, and four elected members of the assembly, of whom three should be Samoans and one a European. After some delay, due principally to doubt by the Minister of Island Territories as to the wisdom of allowing the Samoan and European members of the assembly to choose their own representatives, provision was made for the council in the Samoa Amendment Act, 1952; and it held its first meeting in March 1953. In the words of the Act, the functions of the council were ‘to confer

with and advise the High Commissioner on the forming, determining and implementing of the policy of the Government of Western Samoa’. Though the High Commissioner was not legally required to accept the council’s advice, both the facts and the atmosphere of Samoan politics made it certain that he would do so, except in circumstances of a most unusual kind. The presence of Powles, as chairman, and of Tamasese provided the council with a nucleus of sound experience; and the inclusion of Tualaulelei, Leutele and Betham among those nominated by the assembly ensured that its

320 SAMOA MO SAMOA deliberations would be rigorous and realistically in touch with outside

opinion. At its mectings—normally held about once a week—the unofficial members were brought into far more intimate contact with the problems of government than before. For this reason, and because it was conceived as a first step towards cabinet government, its establishment was accepted as a major advance. The only note of dissent came from back-bench members of the assembly, who complained

occasionally at the Executive Councillors’ ready acceptance of collective responsibility for decisions that the council had taken. But this element in Samoan thinking—derived from indigenous factionalism, as well as from experience of colonial rule—had been muted by time and circumstance; more characteristic of the contemporary attitude was the satisfaction that Samoans were sharing in the exercise of executive power.

When the Executive Council met for the first time, the High Commissioner was in New Zealand. He had, by this time, reached fairly firm conclusions as to the further stages by which Samoa might most smoothly attain full self-government; and he had been discussing them with Ministers and departmental officers in Wellington. As a result of these discussions, it had been decided that a comprehensive statement embodying Powles’s ideas should be made by the Prime Minister, the Right Honourable S. G. Holland, in order that it should be clear to the Samoans that the proposals that were to be announced

represented a firm commitment by New Zealand. On 19 March 1953, immediately after the High Commissioner’s return to Samoa, this statement was issued by the Prime Minister in New Zealand and presented simultaneously by Powles to the Legislative Assembly.’ Just five years had elapsed, the Prime Minister pointed out, since the changes decided upon in 1947 had come into force; and events had proved that New Zealand’s confidence in the Samoan people had been ‘amply justified’. The political task that remained to New Zealand was, he said, that of assisting the people to develop: (1) A strong, responsible and representative central government whose authority is accepted by the community and which is Samoan in outlook, personnel and in the basis of its power. (2) A united population comprising all Samoan citizens regardless of race.

(3) The administrative machinery, the institutions, and the knowledge

necessary for the solution of the political, social and economic problems that will come during the next generation.

THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION 1951-8 321

He defined his government’s responsibility in the economic and social

fields as being that of drawing attention to major problems and suggesting ways in which they might possibly be solved, while leaving their actual solution to the people of Samoa. But he mentioned several matters on which action had already been taken or decided upon, of which the most important was the decision to hand over New Zealand Reparation Estates to Samoa.

To enable the people to decide upon the form that their future self-governing state should take, it was proposed that a constitutional convention should be held before the end of 1954 and that work in preparation for it should begin at once. The Prime Minister listed some of the principal subjects that the convention would have to consider. In respect of two of them—the composition and powers of the legislature and the executive—he made specific proposals. He suggested that a single legislative body with between forty and fifty members should replace the Legislative Assembly and Fono of Faipule. Members should be directly elected by the eleven traditional political districts, in numbers proportional to population. Election should be by secret ballot, ‘upon the widest suffrage the Samoan people feel able to accept (the Apia electorates at least having universal suffrage)’. This new legislature should be known as the House of Representatives. Executive government should be vested in a ‘Premier and Cabinet Ministers’, chosen from members of the House of Representatives and responsible to it. These proposals were based fairly closely upon the British system of parliamentary government as it operated in New Zealand. In the

choice of the name House of Representatives for the unicameral legislature, they seem merely to have echoed New Zealand terminology, since neither in English nor in its Samoan translation— ‘Maota o Sui’—did the term possess any particular local significance or appropriateness. The reference to suffrage seems to have had a more

complex origin. Though it reflected New Zealand—and United Nations—belief in normal democratic practice in regard to voting rights, the suggestion that there should be universal suffrage in ‘the

Apia electorates at least’ seems to have derived primarily from a desire to eliminate the need for separate European representation. By singling out the town area in this way, the statement ignored the extreme sensitiveness of the alii and faipule of Vaimauga and Faleata, who, from the time of the old municipality at least, had felt humiliated by their actual loss of authority. But these were, at most, minor defects.

322 SAMOA MO SAMOA More generally, the selection of the British parliamentary model was as acceptable to the Samoans, in view of their experience since 1948, as it was to New Zealand. Moreover, like Fraser before him, Holland was undoctrinaire in his approach: if the Samoans decided that they wanted ‘some other form of government than is proposed, or some

changes in the details of these proposals’, he said, New Zealand would give their wishes the “most careful and friendly consideration’.

The Samoan political leaders were impressed above all, however, by the prospect of early self-government that the statement opened up to them; and they received it with enthusiasm.* The criticisms that could reasonably be levelled at the proposals were of a different order. The changes of 1948 had been few in number and relatively straightforward in character; and the people had been given time to assimilate their political practices to the requirements of the new institutions. The period of political goodwill that they had brought had been used—at any rate during 1949 and 1950—to direct attention towards the less dramatic, but no less important, problems

of economic development and local government. Now, on the contrary, the people were being asked to reach firm conclusions on a wide range of politically controversial and constitutionally complex issues within a limited period of time. In itself, this had its dangers; in its indirect consequences, it was bound to exact a price. Political thinking could lose something of its clarity in the concurrent consideration of a number of disparate problems; existing attitudes—on matters such as the maintenance of a separate legal status for Samoans and for

Europeans—could be strengthened by the need to reach rapid decisions; and a rift could be created between the politicians, who were

primarily concerned with the attainment of self-government, and members of the élite outside the political field. Less directly, by encouraging the political leaders to concentrate their attention upon the constitutional issues, the statement undermined the growing— though still inadequate—concern with problems of social and economic

development. The High Commissioner was quite conscious of these difficulties; but, since he believed that a settlement of the country’s political future was a necessary preliminary to effective action in other fields, he considered them unavoidable. While it was true that un* A motion expressing the assembly’s gratitude to the Prime Minister, the High Commissioner and the New Zealand government, moved by Tamasese

and ieanell by Malietoa, was carried unanimously (AD, 19 March 1953, 36-40).

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certainty as to the future was an inhibiting factor in many respects, it seemed to some people—including me—that he accepted the consequences of this line of reasoning too readily. The resultant delay in taking firm decisions on social and economic matters was undesirable, and a more adroit and confident approach on the part of the High Commissioner might have made it unnecessary.

Several months passed after the making of the Prime Minister’s statement before any formal action was taken towards preparing for the constitutional convention. In August, however, the High Commissioner appointed a Working Committee (Development Plan). He himself became its chairman; and an expatriate officer of talent and energy, P. K. Edmonds, was appointed to it as Special Assistant. Its

other members were the Fautua, the unofficial members of the Executive Council, three additional members of the Legislative Assembly and three Faipule. Its task was a formidable one. In minor part, it was educational: that of disseminating an understanding of the statement and of the problems of constitutional change. But its main functions were those of making detailed proposals for the constitutional

convention and of drafting recommendations for that body to consider when it met. Inevitably, this work took time; and, as had been the case during the discussions of 1947, uncertainty as to its results created considerable public anxiety. What would be the consequences

of the High Commissioner’s obvious sympathy for the Democratic Party's proposal of universal suffrage with candidature restricted to matai? What would be the cost of the new form of government? To what new forms of taxation might the people be required to submit? On this occasion, unlike that of 1947, the period of uncertainty lasted for about a year, and public suspicion was centred upon the actions of local leaders—the members of the Working Committee— rather than upon those of expatriates or the New Zealand govern-

ment. When I visited Samoa in the middle of 1954, I found the Samoan community more divided, politically, than I had previously known it. These fears were considerably assuaged, however, when the

Working Committee produced its recommendations, which were presented to the High Commissioner in July 1954 and published shortly afterwards. Several of the more controversial issues, such as the

introduction of a common domestic status, had been avoided, and proposals on other matters were of a fairly conservative character. In accordance with the recommendation of the Working Committee, the government decided to convene a constitutional convention

324 SAMOA MO SAMOA of 170 members.® This was to consist of the Fautua, the unofficial members of the Legislative Assembly, the Faipule, two additional representatives of each Faipule constituency, ten additional European representatives (some elected, others nominated by bodies such as the Chamber of Commerce), and other small groups. Among the latter were two tama diga, Mata’afa Faumuina Fiamé Mulin’a II and Tui-

maleali’ifano Suatipatipa, who were appointed in virtue of their standing in the traditional political structure, and two representatives of the Democratic Party. The committee, and the government, had

decided that Samoa’s political future should be considered by an assembly as broadly representative of the country as circumstances (and custom) permitted.

The Constitutional Convention met on 10 November and concluded its sittings on 22 December. In terms of size and composition, it bore some resemblance to the ‘Fono of all Samoa’ that had been held eight years earlier to consider the draft trusteeship agreement. But, in most other respects, it was an innovation, a development reflecting the growth of Samoan understanding of modern political processes. Unlike the earlier gathering, it faced a programme of work that included a number of separate and highly complex issues; and the decisions that it reached on them were intended to provide a firm basis for future New Zealand policy. Its formal procedure was not, as in the ‘Fono of all Samoa’ (or the Fono of Faipule), that of a traditional fono but was based on modern parliamentary practice. Only at an informal level—for example, in the personal deference shown to the tama diga or in the resort to private negotiation on controversial issues between meetings—could the challenge of novelty be softened by regard for custom.

Though it was generally accepted that the convention must use modern procedure and reach firm conclusions within a limited time, these requirements created a considerable problem. Many of the members were older men whose previous experience had been limited to participation in district and village politics. These members were described by one of their number as ‘slow brothers’, in contrast with the ‘fast runners’ who already had some understanding of the working

of modern government.® During early meetings a number of them expressed regret that the rules of procedure were so complicated or urged that consideration of particular matters should not be concluded too quickly. The Fautua, who had been elected joint chairmen,

and the steering committee, which arranged the agenda and drafted

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the resolutions, made allowance for these difficulties, so far as circumstances permitted. The High Commissioner was invited to explain

to the convention the merits of different forms of government; and members were given an opportunity to discuss all the subjects on the agenda before being asked to reach any decisions. Moreover, detailed explanations were frequently given from the chair—by Tamasese— or by members of the former Working Committee. With these forms of assistance, a general understanding of the various issues was built up; and the convention thus became a fairly effective constitutional forum. But it did not become efficient in its use of time. Many of the older members embellished their speeches with a wealth of allegory

and allusion, in the manner of traditional Samoan oratory; and members often rose to speak, in order to establish their personal standing, when they had nothing significant to contribute to the debate. Repeated requests from the chair for a less time-wasting approach seemed to have little effect. But, on balance, this infusion of Samoan traditionalism into the proceedings of the convention probably did more good than harm: it enabled a broadly representative assembly to reach conclusions on major constitutional issues in an atmosphere that was not too starkly alien. The basis for the convention’s deliberations was provided by the

recommendations of the Working Committee and the relevant extracts from the Prime Minister’s statement. One subject that had been considered by the Working Committee—the establishment of Samoan citizenship and of a common domestic status for Samoans and Europeans—was not discussed, since the committee had been unable to resolve the difficulties that it raised. On another—the future relationship with New Zealand—the convention accepted the committee’s recommendation without debate. It agreed that a ‘special relationship’ should be maintained indefinitely, that it “should eventually be based on an alliance or agreement somewhat similar to the agreement at present existing between the United Kingdom and the Kingdom of Tonga .. .’, and that there should be a New Zealand representative in Samoa with functions relating to ‘defence, foreign affairs, and seconded officers’. The remaining subjects were considered at length; and, in each case, the resolution of the convention differed

in some way from the committee’s recommendation. The smallest change was made in regard to control of the public service. The committee had recommended that the office of Public Service Commissioner should be retained and that its holder should be

326 SAMOA MO SAMOA appointed, and be subject to policy directions, by the Samoan cabinet. Members accepted control by a commissioner and were enthusiastic in their support of the proposal that he should be clearly subordinate to the political authorities. Many speakers dwelt upon the need for a rapid replacement of expatriates by local officers; and some criticized the present commissioner for failing to adopt a policy directed towards

that end. But there was a widespread feeling that the commissioner should be appointed and directed by the legislature, rather than by the cabinet. The steering committee responded to this by using the words ‘Government of Western Samoa’, in place of ‘cabinet’, in its draft resolution. Constitutionally, the change was purely verbal, since, in law, ‘government’ would normally be interpreted as ‘executive

government’ (i.e., cabinet). But, to most members, it was one of substance, since, in their thinking, it was the legislature that would govern, and members of cabinet would be its executive agents.

This latter opinion derived from a conception of government that had its origins in the traditional social structure, in the conventions of the ’diga and the fono that enforced the recognition of differences of social status, while restricting opportunities for the aggregation of

power. The Working Committee had been influenced by it, as was the convention; and it permeated much of the discussion about the executive, the legislature, and the office of Head of State. The Working Committee had recommended that the cabinet should not be subject to dismissal unless the legislature passed a vote of no confidence by a two-thirds majority. The convention accepted this proposal without demur, since, in Samoan thinking, ministers had a right to retain office even if the policies to which they had committed themselves had been defeated. On the other hand, many members objected to the recommendation that the Premier, after being nominated by the legislature, should choose his colleagues and argued— finally without avail—that all ministers should be directly nominated by the legislature. Consistently with this line of thinking, they also contended—successfully in this case—that the legislature should not be dissolved on the defeat or dismissal of the Premier, since, in the common view, its members should have the right to retain office for the full period for which they had been elected.

The Working Committee had adopted the Prime Minister’s proposal that a single legislature, presided over by a Speaker, should replace the existing Legislative Assembly and Fono of Faipule. It had

not, however, accepted his suggestions for a general widening of

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suffrage, for the introduction of universal suffrage in the Apia area, or for a constituency organization based on the traditional districts and

proportional to population. Its recommendation had provided for a legislature consisting, ‘for the time being’, of forty-one Samoan, five European and two official members.* European members would be elected, as at present, under universal suffrage; the officials were to be

included as it was considered that they would be required to fill the positions of Minister of Finance and Minister of Justice for an initial period. Samoan members would be elected, ‘for the time being’, under matai suffrage by the existing Faipule constituencies. The provision in the Faipule Election Ordinance, 1939, for the submission of a nomination signed by a majority of electors should be retained and, only in the absence of such a nomination, should a secret ballot be held.

This recommendation was a characteristic Samoan blend of traditionalism, cautious acceptance of change and tactical equivocation.

(The phrase ‘for the time being’ expressed a calculated vagueness.) The first two of these elements ran through most of the convention’s discussion of the subject. A number of members from the centres of Tiimua and Pule contended that the proposed basis of Samoan representation ignored their traditional claims and asked that eleven seats should be specially allocated to them. But other members pointed out that the forty-one constituencies were merely sub-divisions of the traditional districts; and, as one of them said, they did not destroy

tradition but extended the ‘dignity and power once held by the Tumua and Pule to include other sections of the community’. The time had passed when the claim of Tiimua and Pule for special privileges was acceptable to the country as a whole. On the other hand, a suggestion that Samoan membership should eventually be increased

from forty-one to forty-five and that some of the additional seats should be allocated to the populous Apia area was favourably received and included in the resolution. Even in this proposal, however, there was a mixture of political conviction and calculation. In the words of one of its advocates, “. . . as you all understand . . . addition is much

more pleasant than subtraction’.!# The proposal for five European * The High Commissioner, in presenting his proposals to the New Zealand government, had apparently suggested a constituency organization based on the traditional districts on the assumption that this was what the Samoans would want. But he found, as I had done in 1947, that interests had grown up round the existing forty-one constituencies (which had been created in their present form under the Faipule Election Ordinance, 1939). In Samoa the distinction between vested interest and custom is sometimes a delicate one.

328 SAMOA MO SAMOA members was generally accepted, although it would over-represent

the European community, on a population basis. Interestingly, however, two members—Eugene Paul, formerly the senior European member of the Legislative Assembly, and Va’ai Kolone, the prominent cocoa planter—who were advocates of universal suffrage and a common roll, suggested its reduction to two; and another, Fa amatuainu Tulifau,

urged Europeans to take matai titles, so that a separate roll would become unnecessary.

The issue of suffrage was one that many members discussed. Fourteen spoke in favour of universal suffrage. Apart from Paul and Va'ai, they included members associated with the Democratic Party and, most significantly, Mata’afa, one of the tama ‘diga. But the great majority clung to the traditional view that only matai should possess

the vote. This position was defended on a variety of grounds. A young and well-informed public servant argued, for example, that there was no general demand for a wider suffrage and that a change should not be made in advance of public opinion.’ The more conservative insisted, on the other hand, that universal suffrage could never be reconciled with Samoan custom and that, in the words of one of them, only the matai should vote ‘until the end of the world’.14 The latter opinion seems to have been nearer to that of the majority,

for the steering committee, in drafting its resolution in favour of matai suffrage, omitted the words ‘for the time being’.

The most difficult question of all faced by the convention was that relating to the office of Head of State, since it impinged on Samoan custom at its most sensitive level, that of the tama diga (or holders of ‘royal’ titles). The Working Committee had recommended that: The present Hon. Fautua should together be the first Head of State. The new Legislature sitting with the European Members present and the Official Members absent should appoint from among the title holders of the two Royal families [i.e., $4 Tupua and Sa Malietoa] persons to fill future vacancies as they occur. The term of office of Head of State should be for life... . The two persons making up the joint Head of State should act together and with equal power.

The Fautua withdrew from the convention—as they had previously

done from the Working Committee—while the subject was being considered; and the other two tama’ diga, Mata’afa and Tuimaleali ifano,

took the same action. Two of the most experienced members of the

THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION 1951-8 329

steering committee, Tualauielei Mauri and Leutele Te’o, assumed the

position of joint chairmen. Throughout the ensuing debate, which occupied the convention for a week, they strove to prevent speakers from straying from the point at issue, because of an underlying anxiety that some ill-considered reference to history or tradition might

cause a fresh eruption of old, dormant rivalries. The same cautious

spirit was shown by most members, particularly by those most intimately involved in the old political system. The first contributor

to the debate, Maulolo—the holder of an important orator title in Afega, one of the traditional political centres of Timua—expressed his own firm conviction that, in the context of Samoan history and social structure, the unusual expedient of a joint Head of State was necessary; but he asked members not to nourish their disagreement with him in private, since in this lay the real danger, but to voice it openly. Spokesmen for Leulumoega and Safotulafai took a broadly similar line; and Toluono Lama, of Palauli, stressed the importance of the convention’s final decision being a unanimous one. Though the old power of Timua and Pule had gone, a sense of responsibility

in matters relating to custom remained; and, on the whole, it was being brought to the service of unity and not, as in the past, to that of factionalism.

A good many members did disagree with the recommendation, as Maulolo had implied was likely. It was agreed that only tama Giga should be eligible to hold the office of Head of State; but opinion was divided on the proposed initial appointments to the office, which would exclude Mata’afa and Tuimaleali’ifano from association with it during the lifetime of Tupua Tamasese Mea ole and Malietoa Tanuma-

fili II. Nearly fifty years earlier, when the death of the Ali’i Sili, Mata’afa Iosefa, seemed imminent, a rather similar problem had arisen. Consideration had been given by the Samoans to the establish-

ment of a house of tama diga, perhaps through the revival of the Ta’imua. This suggestion had been supported by the adherents of Fa’alata (of Sa Malietoa) and Tuimalealiifano Si’u (of Sa Tupua), since they were in a position of weakness; but it had been opposed by those of Malietoa Tanumafili and Tupua Tamasese Lealofi, because it would increase the number of immediate contenders to the succession.15 Now, the division of opinion followed the same lines. Some members

thought that a council of four should be established, perhaps with one (or two) of its members exercising the formal functions of Head of State; and a few favoured a single Head of State, perhaps holding

330 SAMOA MO SAMOA office for a limited term of years.* These members—such as Fonoti and Tupuola, who both came from Lotofaga, the home of Mata’afa’s family, the Salevalasi—were mostly associated with one or other of the two tama diga for whom no provision was made in the Working

Committee’s recommendation. A majority of members, on the contrary—who, like their forebears, supported the holders of the Malietoa and Tupua Tamasese titles—favoured the recommendation. But, for nearly all, allegiance to a particular tama’diga took second place to a concern for national unity. Many speakers on the majority

side suggested that the efficacy of the proposed appointment of Tamasese and Malietoa was dependent upon its prior acceptance by Mata’afa and Tuimaleali’ifano. And towards the end of the debate two

older and influential members—one with close lineage ties with Mata’afa, the other with Tuimaleali’ifano—spoke movingly and courageously, avowing the love of each family for its tama’diga but

accepting a higher duty to peace and to the nation, and leaving it

to the people to find an appropriate place for these two when self-government had been attained.f

The problem relating to the initial appointment of a Head of State was also relevant to the recommendation regarding later succession to it. Many members believed that the tama’diga themselves

should decide which of their number should fill a vacancy. The proposal for an election by the legislature was, therefore, omitted from the draft resolution and replaced by the temporizing sentence: Future vacancies in the position of Head of State should be filled in a way to be decided by the Parliament of Western Samoa when the time comes.

When Leutele Te’o closed the debate on the Head of State, in order to put the resolution on the subject before the return of the tama’aiga, he showed that he was conscious of rising tension in the convention. * This latter group included several who thought Malietoa should be the sole holder of the office.

+ In September 1954 the Fono of Faipule had voted by secret ballot on three alternative ways of filling the position of Head of State: (1) the appointment of one person; (2) the appointment of two persons; (3) the appointment, on trial, of the two present Fautua. Twenty-one of the thirty-six Faipule voting had favoured the making of a single appointment. Fairly clearly, this represented their view of what the ideal solution would be, if commitments to particular tama Giga could be ignored. It was significant of the way in which Samoan thinking was moving. See Proceedings of Fono of Faipule, 28 Sept. 1954, 8.

THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION 1951-8 331

The resolution was carried, but with eight dissentients—mostly members of Mata’afa’s family.

On the following day, with the tama diga present, the convention

met for its final sitting. The remaining resolutions were carried unanimously. As the concluding speeches were about to begin, Mata’afa asked permission to speak. After congratulating the convention on its work generally, he made an emotional declaration of his dissatisfaction with the decision regarding the Head of State. No place had been made for him (or for Tuimaleali’ifano) despite his rank.

If the existing resolution stood, he said, ‘I feel [that] . . . this family should refrain from taking part in the future affairs of State’.1® This seems to have been received by the members as a classical declaration

of intent to form a revolutionary faction. Member after member— especially those associated with Ttiimua and Pule—rose to speak, expressing their respect for Mata’afa’s rank and pleading with him not to destroy Samoan unity when the long-cherished objective of self-government was on the point of being realized. But the conflict was not one that could be resolved in the convention's dying hours.

The congratulations extended to the Constitutional Convention by the High Commissioner when he formally closed it were well merited. It had been a success. But its achievement was a limited one.

The basic thinking on constitutional development had been done elsewhere—by the High Commissioner and his official colleagues, both in Apia and Wellington, and by the members of the Working Committee. The resolutions of the convention, however, related the demands of a workable political system more intimately to those of current Samoan opinion. But they left important gaps. Subjects such as domestic status and land tenure, for example, were ones on which it was desirable that decisions should be reached before the attainment of self-government. And, in the resolutions themselves, there were some serious weaknesses. The failure to specify whether the office of Head of State was to be held in future by one man or two or to lay down any procedure for filling vacancies was perhaps the most serious of these, since it left these highly controversial questions for decision in the critical period that would follow the death of one of

the initial holders. The proposal to permit a cabinet to remain in office unless defeated by a two-thirds vote created the danger of a weak and demoralized executive. And the deadlock between executive and legislature that could result, in these circumstances, would be made more damaging by the proposal that the legislature itself should be

332 SAMOA MO SAMOA dissolved only at three-yearly intervals. The resolutions thus marked a useful beginning in the planning of a self-governing state, but left a great deal of work still to be done.

The success of the convention could not be measured, however, in terms only of this limited formal achievement. No less important was the fact that it had brought a large body of Samoans, of the most varied outlook and background, face to face with the problems of constitutional change. This had yielded a large profit in terms of political education: they, and the far larger number who had listened to the broadcasts of the convention’s proceedings, were far better prepared for the difficulties that lay ahead. But the gain was political, as well as educational. Despite Mata’afa’s speech, which was itself an exemplification of Maulolo’s plea for frankness, the convention had demonstrated the extent to which the old divisive tendencies that had bedevilled Samoan politics in the nineteenth century had been weakened. The constant preoccupation of members with the need for unity

provided substantial assurance that Samoa was ready for the next stage in its political advancement.

The timing of the convention coincided with the appointment in New Zealand of the Honourable T. L. Macdonald as Minister of Island Territories, in succession to the Honourable T. Clifton Webb. The outgoing Minister had seemed, at times, an opinionated man, somewhat imperceptive in his handling of Samoan affairs; but he had

also been a man of energy and determination, who, once he had accepted the High Commissioner’s ideas on constitutional development, had not rested till he had gained cabinet’s approval of them. His successor, the great-grandson of an early missionary in Samoa, was less successful in obtaining cabinet decisions; but he was a man of understanding, modest and undoctrinaire. Somewhat earlier J. B. Wright, the former Secretary of the Government of Western Samoa, had become permanent head of the Department of Island Territories. The partnership between these two men became a close one; and, during the next three years, New Zealand participation in Samoan development was unusually sensitive and well informed. In June 1955 the Minister published the New Zealand government’s

interim reply to the resolutions of the convention.’ In brief, the government accepted the majority of the proposals, drew attention to the obvious defects and lacunae, and proposed a timetable for the introduction of the various changes. In July Macdonald and Wright visited Samoa and attended a joint session of the Legislative Assembly

THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION 1951-8 333

and Fono of Faipule, at which these matters were discussed in detail.18

The convention’s proposals for the new legislature were accepted without significant change. Although the New Zealand view that a widening of the Samoan franchise was desirable and would not be harmful to custom was reiterated, the convention’s decision in favour of matai suffrage was accepted. It was proposed that the new legislature should be brought into being in 1957. With regard to the introduction

of a cabinet system, which the Samoans had envisaged as being contemporaneous with the establishment of the legislature, the government proposed to act more gradually. In 1954 each of the elected members on the Executive Council had been given the title of ‘Associate Member’; and, as such, he had been associated, as an under-study, with one of the official members of the council in the general control and representation—in the council and the assembly— of a group of departments. It was now proposed that this system should

be somewhat extended by the appointment of additional Associate

Members. When the new legislature had surmounted its initial problems, further action could be taken towards the transfer of executive power. On the resolution dealing with the office of Head of State, no comment was offered; and, on that concerning the future relationship with New Zealand, comment was confined to a reference to the government's obligations under the Trusteeship Agreement. In regard to control of the public service, the Minister stated that only a minor change in existing legislation would be made for the present. The joint session expressed its general satisfaction with this interim

reply but recorded its opinion that cabinet government should be established in 1957 and control of the public service be transferred immediately.

In December the Minister issued a definitive statement of policy. This included a detailed plan for the transfer of executive power. It

was now proposed that, in 1956, the number of elected members on the Executive Council should be increased from four to six and that each of them, with the title of “Member’, should have full responsibility for the departments allotted to him. After the formation of the new legislature, the title of these Executive Councillors would be changed again, to that of ‘Minister’. The High Commissioner would

remain as chairman of the council and the Fautua as members. But,

since they would have ceased to be members of the legislature, a Leader of Government Business would be appointed from the other

334 SAMOA MO SAMOA members of the council. This appointment might be held initially, it was suggested, by an official. Finally—in 1960, if things went well—

a Premier would be appointed and full cabinet government introduced; and the High Commissioner and the Fautua would retire from their executive roles. The proposal that a vote of no confidence

should be effective only if it obtained a two-thirds majority was rejected as unsound. On two other matters the New Zealand government’s position differed significantly from that of the Constitutional Convention. The government insisted that the Head of State—and, during the transitional period, the High Commissioner—should have

power to dissolve the legislature at other than the normal threeyearly intervals. Regarding the office of Head of State, it accepted, though with reluctance, the proposal for an initial joint tenure but expressed serious disquiet at the decision that the procedure for making future appointments should be left till the occasion arose. It suggested

that some of the difficulties might be removed by a decision that future holders should be appointed for a fixed term of years, rather than for life, and that it might be wise to establish an appointing body less involved in day-to-day politics than the legislature. This policy statement was referred, like the Minister’s interim reply, to a joint session of the assembly and the Fono.!® At this meeting the government’s proposals relating to the executive and the legislature

were fully accepted. The questions raised in regard to the Head of State were debated at length. One important advance was made, when

the Faipule for Lotofaga and Lepa, speaking for Mata‘afa’s family (though not for him, personally), withdrew their objection to the initial appointment of Tamasese and Malietoa.?° But on the question of future appointments no agreement was reached; and the meeting confined itself to an endorsement of the convention’s resolution. The ensuing period was one in which the Samoan leaders felt fairly confident about the political future. There were, indeed, some slight

reasons for doubt. The gloomy prognostications of the Samoa Bulletin, whose expatriate editor considered the country unready for self-government, were interpreted as a sign that many businessmen, planters and senior public servants were as unsympathetic to political

change as they, or their predecessors, had been at the time of the ‘goodwill mission’ twenty years earlier; and the fall in overseas earnings and in public revenue in 1956 and 1957 created some anxiety. The politicians, therefore, never felt entirely certain that an unfavourable change in New Zealand policy would not occur or that

THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION 1951-8 335

officials would not attempt to delay the transfer of power. But, on balance, the prospects were good. When another joint session of the assembly and the Fono was held in May 1956, it was decided that the

United Nations Visiting Mission which was due in the territory shortly should be given only a very general statement on the con-

stitutional situation, in order not to endanger or complicate the existing understanding with the New Zealand government.*! Both the High Commissioner and elected members of the Legislative Assembly used this period of relative quiescence to raise some of

the issues that had been pushed into the background by the constitutional discussions. The important problems of domestic status and

land use were examined, for example, but only on a few relatively minor aspects of them were constructive conclusions reached. Practical advance continued to be mainly in the constitutional field. In Septem-

ber 1956, when the Member system was introduced, the Executive Council was given an enhanced status as ‘the principal instrument of policy of the executive government’,?? and the Members individually, as the holders of quasi-ministerial office, assumed control of the depart-

ments included in their portfolios and acted as spokesmen for these departments in the assembly. But, important as this change was, it was soon overshadowed by those that it had been agreed should be introduced in 19$7.

The Samoa Amendment Act, 1957, and the legislation supplementary to it,”* gave effect to the proposals in the Minister’s statement

of December 1955. Membership of the Executive Council was to consist of the High Commissioner and the Fautua, “the official members for the time being of the Legislative Assembly’, and five Samoan and two European elected members of the assembly. Members, other than

the High Commissioner and the Fautua, were to be styled Ministers. The new Legislative Assembly was to consist of forty-one Samoan and five European elected members and ‘not more than three official

members’.* It was to be controlled by a Speaker chosen by the assembly, either from among its own members or from outside. One of the Ministers was to be appointed by the High Commissioner as Leader of Government Business. The Samoan members were to be * The Act provided: that Samoan constituencies should be ‘not fewer than forty-one nor more than forty-five’; that the actual number should be determined, within these limits, by Ordinance; and that, till such an Ordinance was passed, the constituencies should be those defined in the Faipule Election Ordinance, 1939.

336 SAMOA MO SAMOA elected, for the time being, by the existing Faipule constituencies under

matai suffrage. Two important changes were to be made, however, in electoral procedure. A register of matai was to be established and used as an electoral roll. And, although the existing provision for election on the basis of a nomination signed by a majority of electors was retained, it was provided that a secret ballot should be held when such a nomination was not received. As had been previously agreed, the Fono of Faipule was to be abolished. Nominations for the first general election to the new Legislative Assembly closed in October 1957. All candidates—including those who were returned unopposed—were invited to deliver an election address over the Apia broadcasting station; and a large number availed them-

selves of this opportunity. Some Samoan candidates framed their speeches in traditional terms, expressing respect for the ancient political groups and adding a simple avowal of their desire to serve the country. But others spoke more specifically of the current situation. Luafalealo

Kurene, for example, emphasized the importance of the introduction of ballot-voting in the Samoan constituencies, on the ground that it gave equal weight to the opinion of each elector. Some of the candidates for the European seats—of whom five stood as members of a Progressive Citizens’ League and six as independents—outlined clearcut policies; and both the League and several of the independents distributed campaign literature and inserted advertisements in the local newspaper.*

In six of the forty-one Samoan constituencies members were returned by the procedure of nomination by a majority of the electors, and in another twenty-five only a single nomination was received. In

all these cases, the traditional procedure of carrying on discussion among the matai till a consensus was attained seems to have been followed. This was, in some respects, a disappointing result. Under matai suffrage only 5,030, out of more than 94,000, Samoans were registered as voters; and, to the extent that elections were determined by traditional procedure, even this small electorate was subjected to * The Progressive Citizens’ League was controlled by a committee of between seventy and eighty members. The candidates sponsored by it were: H. J. Keil, K. Meyer, F. C. F. Nelson, E. F. Paul and P. Plowman. Plowman had been a member of the previous assembly from 1948 till 1954. Literature issued by the League during the campaign period included a weekly newsletter. It did not develop into a permanent party organization, though the members elected under its auspices seem to have co-operated to some extent (for example, in determining who should be the two European Ministers).

THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION 1951-8 337

considerable further restraints.* The framework of discussion tended to emphasize the importance of maintaining district harmony, rather

than of finding the ablest candidate, and gave greater influence to matai of high rank than to the holders of lesser titles. Moreover, the procedure was open to abuse. In several cases, it was charged that names appearing on nominations were forgeries or that support for a single nomination had been gained by threats. In two constituencies, candidates who had narrowly failed to obtain majority nominations were soundly defeated in the subsequent ballot. But in many of the constituencies where traditional methods prevailed good selections were made. Astute condidates adapted their tactics to local circumstances; and many of the more conservative matai were not insensitive to the prestige to be gained from representation by a capable member. As in many developing countries, an ability to explain to the electors the working of the new system of government was, in itself, regarded as a qualification for office.2* Thus, even in the functioning of tra-

ditional procedures, there was evidence of adaptation to modern conditions. And in the remaining Samoan constituencies, where elections by secret ballot were conducted, this adaptation was quite explicit. On the European side, where four candidates sponsored by the

Progressive Citizens’ League and one independent were successful, the effects of well organized campaigning were probably greater than in previous elections.

One of the most interesting results was the return of Mata’afa Faumuina Fiamé Mulinw’i II as the member for Lotofaga. His declaration three years earlier that he would not participate in politics unless a place were made for him appropriate to his status as a tama’ diga had

been the climax to a considerable period of brooding and dissatisfaction. When he had succeeded his father in the Mata’afa title, he— and many members of his ’diga—had hoped that he would succeed him also as a Fautua; and he had been encouraged to believe that the

New Zealand government expected such an appointment to be recommended, in due course, by the Fono of Faipule. But, in custom, his claim was not a strong one. He was a young man and one lacking,

as yet, in experience or accomplishment. When the Fono was first asked to recommend his appointment, it had taken no action. When it was approached again in 1953, it had temporized by referring to the * The position was, perhaps, not very different from that in some English rural constituencies, where selection as candidate by Conservative Party branches dominated by local magnates ensures election.

338 SAMOA MO SAMOA constitutional discussions that would take place in the following year. Mata’afa eventually abandoned his claim to appointment as a Fautua, while maintaining his position that he must possess the same rights as other tama’diga in relation to the future office of Head of State. But, in the changing circumstances of Samoan politics, this demand came to occupy a less important place in his thinking. Influential members of his ’diga were more interested in the country’s smooth transition to

self-government than in supporting him; and he realized himself that he might gain greater influence by deciding to become a working

politician. Some time before the election, he brought himself into prominence as the founder of a Samoan co-operative to handle copra

and open trade stores, like the companies formed by Lauaki and Afamasaga Lagolago in previous generations. He referred to its members as ‘my party’.25 When the election drew near, he presented himself as a candidate as the holder of the title Fiamé. Though this was an important title of Lotofaga district, it was not, like Mata’afa, a ‘royal’ one and was, therefore, appropriate to his new role. Once elected it was certain that, though he sat as Fiamé, the attitude of his colleagues towards him would not be uninfluenced by the fact that he was a tama Giga.

The new Legislative Assembly met for the first time on 27 November 1957. It included only four Samoan and two European members of the previous assembly and only nine members of the last Fono of Faipule. A few others amongst its members—of whom Eugene Paul was the most prominent—had served in the assembly or the Fono at an earlier period. But just over half the members were political novices. These included, however, a number of men whose success as planters, businessmen, or public servants made them useful recruits to public life. It was thus a less experienced body than the previous Legislative Assembly but one that included a higher proportion of progressivelyminded men than had the Fono of Faipule. The first important business of the new assembly was its election

of a Speaker and a Deputy Speaker and its nomination of seven Ministers. As Speaker, it chose Luafatasaga Kalapu, a non-member, and, as Deputy Speaker, Amoa Tausilia, one of the younger members and a man new to politics. Luafatasaga had previously been Chief Interpreter-Translator of the Legislative Department, and Amoa had obtained leave from the public service in order to enter politics. Both men were fully bilingual, in Samoan and English. The assembly thus based its selections upon considerations of personal competence, rather

THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION 1951-8 339

than political standing. Among those chosen as Ministers, four— Tualaulelet Mauri, Tuatagaloa Leutele, To’omata Lilomaiava and Eugene Paul—had been leading members of earlier assemblies. One—Fa’alava’au Galu—had had a long political career, as secretary of the Mau, as a member of the old Legislative Council and as Leader

of the Fono of Faipule, though he had not previously sat in the assembly. And two—Fiamé Mata’afa F. M. II and F. C. F. Nelson—

were new to politics. The official members appointed by the High Commissioner were the Financial Secretary and the Attorney-General ;

and, under the provisions of the Act, they also assumed the rank and functions of Ministers.* The High Commissioner indicated that he proposed to appoint as Leader of Government Business one of the elected Ministers. During the first session of the assembly, he invited

each member to advise him by indicating his own preference in writing. This procedure failed to produce a decisive result. In the Executive Council itself there was some difference of opinion as to whether the office should be given to Paul, who had obtained the most votes, or to Tualaulelei, the leading Samoan contender. At the second

session, a formal ballot was taken, in which Paul, Tualaulelei and Fiamé offered themselves as candidates. Paul emerged as the victor. Although Tualaulelei’s position had been weakened by the blatancy of his ambition and Fiamé’s by his inexperience, the result showed that the assembly was prepared to accept as its leading member a European in whose personal qualities it had confidence. After the changes of 1956, the Members on the Executive Council had possessed powers similar to those of the new Ministers. But the High Commissioner had found them generally reluctant to exercise full control over their departments and sometimes unwilling to support

government policy in the assembly. The establishment of the new assembly and the replacement of the title Member by that of Minister created a different atmosphere. These changes were seen as a decisive move towards self-government; and the Ministers readily accepted the

responsibilities that law and convention conferred on them. When Fiamé and Tualaulelei—who both nourished ambitions of displacing

Paul—supported anti-government moves in the assembly, their actions did not pass uncondemned by their colleagues. The system was, like its predecessor, essentially a transitional one, since the * During the first session there were actually three official members, the Secretary to the Government, the Financial Secretary and the Assistant Secretary

to the Government. This was, however, a temporary arrangement only.

340 SAMOA MO SAMOA Executive Council continued to rely substantially on the knowledge and experience of Powles and Tamasese; but, as the penultimate stage in the transition to cabinet government, it effectively filled its intended role. The assembly showed itself to be slow-moving but responsible. The Speaker and Deputy Speaker controlled its proceedings with knowledge and restraint; and members, experienced in the elaborate

conventions of district and village fono, were generally quick to appreciate the different conventions of its standing orders. Many members tended to dwell tediously upon matters of financial and administrative detail, so that debates were unduly prolonged. And many, particularly among those who were new to the problems of central government, allowed a preoccupation with the preservation of custom and with the immediate interests of their own constituencies to determine their attitude towards major issues of social and economic

policy. The cautious approach of members to proposals involving substantial expenditure provided the experienced and politically adroit G. F. D. Betham with frequent opportunities to embarrass the government, so that the absence of a party system was acutely felt in Samoa for the first time. But, more generally, their thinking was dominated,

like that of the government, by the major objective of Samoan politics: the attainment of full self-government.

WITH the establishment of the new legislature and the appointment of Ministers, the conditions that the High Commissioner had defined as prerequisites to a major effort in the field of economic development had been partly—though not wholly—satisfied. And, as a consequence of the depressed conditions of 1956 and 1957, there was no alternative

to the making of that effort. The position of the government itself, which had been affected in both years by declining revenues, was further worsened in 1957 by its failure to receive a grant from the Western Samoa Trust Estates Corporation, on which it had been relying for about ten per cent. of its total receipts. To meet the emergency, expenditure was cut, and a request was made to New Zealand for assistance. In agreeing to provide further aid, the New Zealand

government made its offer contingent upon the preparation by Samoa of an economic plan.

When the Ministers were appointed, a portfolio of Economic

THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION 1951-8 341

Development was created and conferred, together with that of Finance, upon Eugene Paul. The Minister was a businessman, who had

built his own career upon practical shrewdness, rather than booklearning. He was conscious of the many reports by outside experts that already lay on government files and unhappy at the lack of action

resulting from them. He saw the immediate problem, not as one requiring sophisticated economic analysis, but as that of devising simple proposals that would be generally acceptable and that could be

implemented, year by year, within the limits of the resources that were available. A New Zealand offer to find an economist was declined, as being inappropriate to the initial stage of economic planning.

Instead, the government set out to formulate a number of proposals that could be carried out during the years 1959-61. The document that emerged from this work was described as an economic development plan.?® In fact, it was a general commentary on

the country’s economic situation and prospects, supplemented by

recommendations for immediate action that were only loosely related to one another or to the over-all situation. It made the obvious points that the country was primarily dependent on agriculture and that development must take place mainly upon land subject to Samoan

customary tenure. It advocated the establishment of secondary industries. But, even at this level of generality, its analysis was imprecise

and incomplete. No examination was made, for example, of the inhibiting effects upon development of customary tenure or the absence of facilities for the provision of rural credit. Nor was the case

for secondary industries supported by any but the most general references to the availability of raw materials or of markets. The proposals for government action in 1959-61 were similarly lacking in definition. The most important of these was a recommendation that unoccupied Crown lands should be subdivided and leased for agricultural development. The most suitable areas were listed, and the order in which they should be opened up was related to the existing state of surveys and road construction. But, beyond that, the details were inadequately worked out. It was suggested, for example, that individual lots should be of twenty-five acres, an area much larger

than that cultivated by most Samoans; and it was specified that lessees should be chosen from persons possessing insufficient land. But no attempt was made to explain the unlikely assumption that those who had previously possessed little or no land would prove

themselves capable of developing a larger area than most other M

342 SAMOA MO SAMOA Samoans. No consideration was given to the need for providing credit during the initial stage of development or to the cost of constructing water supplies and school buildings. As a means of rapidly increasing production, the scheme, in the form in which it was presented, was thus of only marginal importance. Other proposals—for the expansion of the experimental work of the Department of Agriculture, for the construction of access roads to village plantations, for the drafting of an industrial incentives bill, for a study of the problems of harbour development at Apia and in Savai'i—were common-sense

ones; but they did not add up to a co-ordinated plan intended to produce rapid results. The development plan did not represent the results of disciplined, consistent or original thinking. It was, on the contrary, mainly a restatement of a number of ideas that had been in circulation for a considerable time. Perhaps its most valuable point was its acceptance of the fact that expert advice, of the very kind that had recently been declined, was necessary as a basis of long-term planning.

The plan was placed before the Legislative Assembly in October 1958; and, together with a development budget for the year 1959, it was discussed during the following month.?7 On the whole, it was favourably received. The plan itself was endorsed, in principle; and the budget for 1959 was agreed to, except for the deletion of the item for a harbour survey. But little action flowed from the assembly’s decisions. Apart from the harbour survey, which was later reinstated, developmental work remained within the narrow limits that had been set before the idea of a plan had been conceived. Towards the end of the debate in the assembly, a Samoan Minister quoted with approval

a reported statement by the New Zealand Minister of Island Territories: “There is plenty of evidence . . .’, the latter had said, ‘that in a situation of this kind, economic development follows rather than precedes Self-Government.’** And this was the general view among Samoan political leaders. In regard to local government, also, the establishment of a Ministerial system was made the occasion for a re-examination of policy. The

initiative for this did not come from the Ministers themselves but from the High Commissioner. The loss of interest in the development of local government among the political leaders and the inability of the District and Government Board to achieve constructive results had discouraged Powles, but they had not destroyed his desire to see an effective policy formulated before he finally transferred his executive

THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION 1951-8 343

responsibilities to a Samoan Cabinet. In 1958 he asked a senior officer

of the Treasury who had previously worked in local government in New Zealand to examine the problem and submit recommendations to him. The document that emerged from this study, early in 1959, incorporated this officer's conclusions and comments added by the High Commissioner. It proposed the establishment of a local government system not very dissimilar to that existing in the rural areas of New Zealand and performing broadly similar functions. District

councils should be constituted, it was argued, with territorial boundaries determined by modern administrative needs, rather than by reference to traditional political organization. The extent to which Samoan loyalties were centred upon the traditional divisions of the

country, both district and village, was thus ignored. Instead, the country was to advance in one leap to the position at which the 1950 commission had hoped it might arrive eventually if a first step were taken in the same direction by the formation of advisory councils in departmental districts. Everything that had happened since the estab-

lishment of the District and Village Government Board suggested that such a programme was impracticable. But the proposal had a further major weakness, in that it treated local government simply as a problem of decentralization, to the neglect of its special—and vitally

important—role in Samoa as an instrumentality for the broadening of the sense of national identity. By the time the document was completed, however, the thinking of Samoan political leaders was largely concentrated upon the problems of the transition to independence. By that time, too, I was again in Samoa myself, working with them on the examination of these problems. It thus fell to me—in writing a comment on the document—to extinguish the last flicker of active concern among New Zealand officers for a subject in which I had striven to engage them nine years before. Our constitutional discussions were both intricate and replete with issues on which harmful divisions of opinion might emerge, either between the local politicians themselves or between them and the High Commissioner or the New

Zealand government. To complicate the situation through acquiescence in the launching of a programme of local-government

reform as controversial as that which Sir George Richardson had sought to implement over thirty years earlier would, it seemed, have been an act of political irresponsibility.

344 SAMOA MO SAMOA DURING the ten years between 1948 and 1958 preparations for Samoa’s

final emergence from colonial control had been less comprehensive than, ideally, they should have been. The major problems of economic development remained unsolved. By its failure to establish a modern system of local government, the central government had left itself without adequate means for the implementation of its programmes of development and welfare at the local level and without the instrumentalities for the political education of the people that such a system would have provided. Because of the defective arrangements for the control of the public service, little had been done to train local administrative staff to replace expatriates in senior positions. Yet even in these fields of activity there had been changes of great significance. Many individual Samoans had responded to the opportunities of the years of prosperity by establishing plantations and trading enterprises

on a substantial scale. The people generally had gained valuable experience through the use of the traditional district and village fono for the creation of local services—such as water and electricity supplies —and through participation in the national discussion of constitutional

change. And, with the return from New Zealand of scholarship students, the country had gained a corps of well qualifted—though still relatively junior—public officials. The expansion and improvement of the education system in Samoa itself had ensured that many of those leaving school would possess a knowledge that their elders had been unable to acquire. No less significantly, the divisions of interest and outlook between

Samoans, local Europeans and papdlagi had become less sharply defined. Many young Samoans had adopted a way of life that had previously been regarded as almost exclusively European, participating

in sports, such as tennis, and in cultural activities, such as debating, and abandoning the /avalava for European dress; and members of

the older generation were beginning to reconcile themselves to these innovations. The social clubs of Apia had opened their membership to Samoans. On the European side, the old assumptions of racial

superiority were less commonly made and much less commonly expressed. Expatriates who identified themselves with local society were not exposed to the pressures of a colonial establishment, as they

had formerly been. Local Europeans took greater pride in their Samoan descent. The aspiration to political unity was gaining substance through an approach towards cultural unity. But, most directly, Samoan preparedness for self-government was

THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION IQ5I-8 345

represented by the growth of Samoan participation in the fields of legislative and executive control. In part, this growth had been a consequence of the decisions of 1947. But, primarily, it had been the product of the unrelenting labour of the High Commissioner and his principal Samoan associates—above all of Tupua Tamasese—and of the

perceptive co-operation of J. B. Wright, as Secretary of Island Territories. These efforts had made the final stage in the transfer of power one that could be faced without undue anxiety. They had also made it one that, for good or ill, had to be faced without further delay.

Transition to Independence 1958-62

Il THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 HE problems that had to be resolved between 1958 and 1962

Tver of a different order from those of the preceding period. Although Samoa had advanced a long way constitutionally since 1948,

final control had remained with New Zealand. In the event of a political breakdown, remedial action could still be taken by the New Zealand government and parliament. But, once full self-government or independence was attained, responsibility would rest wholly with Samoa. The country’s future ability to handle its affairs would depend significantly upon decisions taken during the period of transition. Primarily, these decisions related to the general character and actual provisions of the future constitution; but, secondarily, they concerned matters of procedure. Experience has shown that the stability of a new state is greatly affected by the manner in which representatives of the people are associated with the work of constitution-making,

by the legal form of constitutional enactment, and by the timing of that enactment in relation to the termination of political dependency.

Recent thinking upon the first two of these procedural issues has been much influenced by the long fight which the Indian National

Congress waged against the British policy of providing for constitutional change by metropolitan enactment.* Basing their case partly upon precedents, such as that provided by the framing of the American constitution, Congress leaders demanded that the Indian constitution should be drawn up by a constituent assembly composed * H. N. Brailsford described the theory as follows: ‘It is fixed as an obstinate principle in our rulers’ minds that God’s Englishman must plan the house in which Indians are to live. Our Civil Servants will do the drafting. Our Parliament, clause by clause, will debate the Bill. The votes of white men responsible to the electors of Govan and Clapham and Cardiff will decide whether India shall have two chambers or one, a wide or a propertied franchise . . .’ (quoted by N. Gangulee, Constituent Assembly for India (London, 1942), 176). Brailsford’s

comment does not apply in full to the British colonies, since constitutional enactment in respect of them is provided by order in council, not by Act. Although Parliament may discuss constitutional proposals, it does not directly enact them.

349

350 SAMOA MO SAMOA of freely chosen representatives of the Indian people. Eventually, during the Second World War, the Congress demand was accepted in principle by the British government. And, in the changed atmosphere of the post-war world, a constituent assembly was brought into being. Though its work was cut across and complicated by the developments that resulted in the formation of Pakistan and by the negotiations between the government of India and the Indian States, it completed its work; and, on 26 November 1949, the Constitution of India—a monumental document containing 395 articles and eight

schedules—was adopted and enacted. By this act the constituent assembly gave the Republic of India its supreme law and cut the chain of authority linking the law of India with that of England. The transfer of sovereignty had thus been complemented by a legal revolution.}

A similar procedure had been followed, or attempted, in a number

of other countries, particularly in Asia: a constituent assembly or constitutional convention has been elected to frame a constitution and finally to enact it. As might be expected, the agreement of January

1947 on the future of Burma provided for a constituent assembly in that country on the lines of the assembly that had just begun work in India.? Similarly, the Indian precedent was followed in respect of Pakistan, when a Constituent Assembly of Pakistan was set up by the Governor-General of India on the eve of independence.’ In Indonesia and South Vietnam, constitution-making bodies with similar functions were established after independence had been attained.* During their initial meetings these assemblies have most commonly elected a committee or committees to undertake the preparation of the draft constitution. In Burma, for example, a large general committee was set up for this purpose, with several sub-committees to work on separate parts of the constitution (for example, on “fundamental rights’ and on ‘the judiciary’). These committees have normally

worked with expert advisers and had access to a wide variety of documentation—the existing law of the country, the constitutions of other states, declarations of human rights, treatises on law and politics. When the draft has been completed, it has been submitted to the whole assembly and considered clause by clause. Eventually, perhaps after prolonged discussion and substantial amendment, it has been approved and adopted. In this way, the elected representatives of the people have been directly associated with the process of constitution-making from its initiation to its completion; and the political standing of the

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 351 adopted constitution has been enhanced by this overt expression of the popular will. A very different procedure has been followed in many other cases. In particular, the British policy that was successfully opposed in India

has been maintained in respect of the majority of British territories preparing for self-government or independence. Where this policy has been adopted, the decisive constitutional discussions have generally

taken place in London, at conferences attended by representative political leaders from the territory or territories concerned and chaired

by the Secretary of State for the Colonies.® Freedom of action has often been limited not only by the general character of the local political situation but also by specific resolutions of the colonial

legislatures and by the reports of constitutional commissions or similar bodies.6 None the less, the making of final decisions has been the prerogative of these conferences and not, as under the constituent assembly procedure, that of a large, directly representative, and wholly

local group. The agreed constitution has finally been enacted by British order in council.? The chain of authority linking the law of the new state with that of England has thus been retained. Apart from its purely legal consequences, this form of procedure

would appear to affect significantly the political character of the transition. On the one hand, the smaller number (and generally greater experience) of the colonial politicians involved, coupled with the presence of the Secretary of State and his advisers, has probably

made for more expert discussion of the issues. On the other hand, both the composition of the conferences and their place of meeting have provided a measure of insulation from local political pressures. While such insulation has obvious advantages, it also has dangers,

since the stability of the constitutional settlement depends upon facing and surmounting conflicts of interest and opinion, not upon avoiding them. These dangers were emphasized, while the Samoan constitution was being drafted, by the replacement of Ghana’s first constitution as an independent state—that of 1957—within a little more than three years of its enactment.

The principal characteristic of the new constitution adopted by Ghana in 1960—the strength of the executive, as compared with the legislature—strikingly illustrates the importance of the third of the

procedural factors: the timing of constitution-making in relation to the attainment of independence. In three of the countries of which mention has been made—Pakistan, Indonesia and South Vietnam—

352 SAMOA MO SAMOA constituent assemblies or constitutional conventions began work after independence had been attained. In both Pakistan and Indonesia they were dissolved before their task had been completed; in South Vietnam the President of the Republic was able to secure amendments to the assembly’s draft. Although the factors operating in each of these cases

were complex, one general conclusion can be drawn from them. They demonstrate the crucially important role of the executive during the first years of an independent state’s existence. Where the executive is weak, as was the case in Indonesia, the existing form of government

is likely to be overthrown and the constitution-making body to be destroyed in the process. Where it is strong, as in Ghana and South Vietnam, a constitution drafted at this stage is likely further to increase its power. A good constitution must provide for an effective executive without unduly weakening the directly representative elements in government or the protection of individual rights and freedoms. The attainment of

this delicate balance is most likely to result from discussion and enactment in advance of independence. At that stage, a small group of leaders is less likely to have the power to frustrate the will of the majority; and it is improbable that circumstances will be such as to

give any wide support to authoritarian proposals. If the work of constitution-making is entrusted at that time to a widely representative

constituent assembly, the chances are greatest that the resulting constitution will possess an authority sufficient to make its early supersession extremely difficult.

IN the case of Western Samoa, there had never been any doubt that the future constitution would be prepared in advance of New Zealand’s withdrawal. Both the Samoans, with their deep-rooted attachment to

continuity, and the New Zealand government, with its well-established policy of transferring responsibility to the Samoans by stages,

were firmly committed to such a course. And the effect of these intellectual and political commitments was reinforced by a decisive practical consideration: the United Nations would need to be told how the country proposed to control its affairs when a request was made for the termination of the trusteeship agreement. Similarly, there had been no doubt that the most important constitutional discussions would take place in Samoa itself and that a

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 353 broadly representative group of Samoans would participate in them.

Wellington, unlike London, had not become a natural venue for conferences between representatives of the metropolitan government and the leaders in the dependent territories. The portfolio of Island

Territories had always been held by a Minister with other (and heavier) responsibilities; and the department of which he was political head had never been of more than minimal size. In Western Samoa, the office of High Commissioner had been held since 1949 by G. R.

Powles; and he, rather than the Secretary of Island Territories, had become the Minister’s principal adviser on its affairs. Further, the Samoan leaders themselves took it for granted that major political decisions should be taken in ways that would be acceptable to the people. The actual procedure that was adopted, and the substantive decisions that were taken in 1958 and the immediately following years, derived,

in part, from earlier events. The Working Committee of 1953-4 and the Constitutional Convention of 1954 provided important procedural precedents. The resolutions of the latter, and the subsequent statements by the Minister of Island Territories, determined some of the broad characteristics of the future constitution. But action in this later period also possessed a momentum, and took a direction, of its own. To some degree, the innovations that were made reflected New Zealand’s assessment of the work to be done; but, to a greater extent, they were a result of the increasing confidence of the Samoan political leaders and of their desire to keep the responsibility of constitution-making in their own hands. Late in 1958 the High Commissioner presented to the Executive Council proposals for the establishment of a Working Committee on Self-Government; and the committee was duly established in January 1959 ‘to discuss and make provisional decisions upon all matters concerning the attainment of Self-Government .* The new committee differed significantly in composition from its predecessor. The High Commissioner was not a member; and an early suggestion by him that several members should be chosen from outside political life was not proceeded with. The Fautua became Joint Chairmen; the seven elected Ministers and seven additional members of the Legislative Assembly, chosen by the assembly, comprised the remainder of the membership. The committee was thus wholly representative of those actively engaged in politics. In place of the Special Assistant, a New

Zealander, who had been a member of the earlier committee, a

354 SAMOA MO SAMOA Samoan-born public servant, M. R. Meredith, was appointed as Research Secretary.*

Somewhat earlier the New Zealand government had appointed C. C. Aikman, Professor of Constitutional Law in the Victoria University of Wellington, as its constitutional adviser in relation to Samoan self-government. It had clearly been the government’s expectation that the principal responsibility for preparing a draft constitution would rest upon him and New Zealand government officers; the role of the Samoans would be that of clients or critics.f The Samoan leaders were unwilling to accept this situation. In particular, they were not prepared to rely solely on an adviser who would

be finally responsible to New Zealand. They therefore obtained agreement, in principle, to the appointment of a constitutional adviser to the Samoan government itself. It was suggested to them that such

an adviser might be obtained through the United Nations or other official channels. These suggestions were received but not acted upon. When the time for decision drew near, the Fautua asked me whether

I would be able to accept the position. On receiving a favourable reply, they placed my name before the Executive Council, and the appointment was made. The significance of my selection lay in my past association with Samoa. I was regarded as one who had identified

himself with the people of Samoa, rather than with the expatriate group, and who had been willing to suffer official unpopularity through giving support to Samoan interests. My name had not been publicly mentioned till the appointment needed to be made, since it was not thought wise to provide time for the possible emergence of Opposition in official circles. My acceptance of the appointment had been sought, since it was believed that I would assist the Working Committee to draft a constitution adapted to Samoan needs. * After the first few months Meredith, who possessed administrative ability and experience that was in very short supply, was able to perform his duties as Research Secretary on a part-time basis only. Like a good many other local Europeans, he has subsequently chosen to identify himself completely with Samoan society and is now known as Lauofo Meti. { This expectation seemed to be implicit, for example, in a statement made by the High Commissioner during a broadcast in Samoa on 2 Nov. 1958 on the problems of citizenship and domestic status. ‘Professor Aikman, who, as you know, is preparing the preliminary draft of the new Samoan Constitution, has

these matters in mind.’ As Aikman had, up till that time, been able to pay only one brief visit to Samoa it is fortunate that he was not, in fact, then preparing the draft or attempting to solve the problems referred to.

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 355 At its first meeting, on 3 February 1959, the Working Committee took decisions that similarly emphasized the intention of keeping responsibility firmly in Samoan hands. It adopted rules of procedure which provided that persons other than members and officers of the committee should be present at meetings only by invitation and that the committee’s minutes should not be circulated to non-members. In this way, it was hoped to ensure completely frank discussion and

to avoid the danger of outside pressure, whether from groups or individuals in the territory or from New Zealand. The committee also formally resolved that the draft constitution which it was to prepare should be placed before a constitutional convention for consideration and for enactment. In essentials, the procedure that had been decided upon was similar

to that which had been followed in India and Burma. It diverged from it, however, in one respect, since the process of constitutionmaking was initiated in advance of the election of a constitutional convention (or constituent assembly). This difference was not of major practical significance. On the one hand, the Working Committee was

representative not only of those exercising executive functions—the Fautua and the Ministers—but of the Legislative Assembly as a whole. On the other hand, the constituent assemblies of India and Burma had

been initiators only in a somewhat formal sense, in that much work had been done in advance by the dominant political organizations in the two countries. In Samoa, since there were no political parties,

preliminary work of this kind could not have been undertaken informally. For the same reason, a committee chosen by the members of a newly elected constitutional convention would almost certainly have been less well qualitied—though not more broadly representative —than one composed of members of the Executive Council and the Legislative Assembly.

A more important innovation lay in the broad terms of reference of the Working Committee. The preparation of a draft constitution was to be its major task; but it was also expected to recommend necessary changes in ordinary legislation and in the procedures of the executive government and to submit proposals regarding the future conduct of external relations. The responsibilities of the Working Committee were thus more

onerous than those previously borne by any group of Samoan politicians. The experience of its members was, however, not inconsiderable. The Joint Chairmen had led the move towards self-

350 SAMOA MO SAMOA government for many years. As members of the Council of State, of the Executive Council, and of the Legislative Assembly (till 1957), they

had gained an intimate knowledge of matters of government. A number of other members had served in the Legislative Assembly (and its predecessor, the Legislative Council) or in the Fono of Faipule

for considerable periods.* Nearly all possessed some first-hand ex-

perience of countries other than Samoa. A few, such as Tupua Tamasese, Eugene Paul, Tualaulelei Mauri and Amoa Tausilia, had travelled very widely. Tamasese, since his years as a leader in the Mau, had found in the reading of works on politics an absorbing intellectual

interest; and his example had influenced others. Outside politics members’ experience was varied. Nearly all had some experience as agriculturalists, of whom several—such as To’omata Lilomaiava and Tufuga Fatu—had been conspicuously successful as cocoa planters.

Nearly all, too, had some acquaintance with commerce, though this ranged from the direction of relatively large companies to the management or ownership of village stores. Eight had, at some stage of

their careers, been members of the public service, either in clerical positions or as teachers.} In the matter of age, the composition of the committee fairly accurately reflected the cautious but not unpro-

gressive character of contemporary Samoan politics: among the fourteen members, apart from the Joint Chairmen, five were aged between fifty-five and sixty, six between forty and fifty-five, and three between thirty-five and forty. In terms of political experience, this meant that some, like Fa’alava’au Galu, had been active in the hey-day of the Mau, while others, like Fiamé Mata’afa, had gained the whole of their experience as matai in the less tense atmosphere of the years since 1947.

Judged by the ordinary standards of political life in democratic * For example, Tualaulelei Mauri, the Minister for Lands, M.L.C., 1942-7,

M.L.A., from 1948; Tuatagaloa Leutele Te’o, the Minister for Education, Faipule, 1945-51, M.L.A., from 1951; Fa’alava’au Galu, the Minister for Radio, Post Office and Broadcasting, M.L.C., 1939-46, Faipule, 1954-7, M.L.A., from 1957; G. F. D. Betham, M.L.A., from 1948; ’Anapu Solofa, Faipule, 1948-51, M.L.A., 1951-4, and from 1957.

+ It is indicative of the former lack of opportunity for Samoans and local Europeans in the public service that seven of these members had resigned and turned to commerce and agriculture long before they entered politics. The one exception was Amoa Tausilia, who had made the opposite move—from private employment to the public service—to assist in the promotion of the co-operative movement. He had obtained leave from his duties as a public servant in order to stand as a candidate for the 1957 general election.

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 357 countries, the committee was a good one, experienced in politics, reasonably diverse in professional and other interests, varied in age and outlook. Its members included a high proportion of the most able men in public life. Of the seven who were appointed as backbench members of the Legislative Assembly, five later served as Ministers and a sixth, Amoa Tausilia, has been Speaker of the assembly

since 1961. The seventh, Pilia’e Leilua Iuliano, who has remained a back-bencher (though a conspicuously influential one), played a part in the work of the committee as important as that of almost any of his colleagues.* As the holder of important titles in both Leulumoega and Safotulafai, he regarded it as his duty to ensure that the committee did not ignore the traditional point of view on the problems before it. But, asa man of perception and experience, his main concern was with

reconciling the conflicting claims of custom and contemporary circumstance. On some matters the committee reached decisions that

diverged from custom farther than he thought was wise. But his acceptance of majority decision and collective responsibility was absolute. His considerable gifts of advocacy were always available for the public defence of any proposal that the committee had adopted. Most of the other members similarly made a distinctive contribution

to the committee’s work, adopting some topic or interest as their particular responsibility and thus gaining the confidence of their colleagues as guides in particular fields. During the course of their work, members of the committee developed a strong sense of corporate loyalty and mutual reliance.

Like most political groups, the Working Committee was heavily dependent on professional assistance in bringing its experience to bear with precision on many of the problems that came before it. It needed

help in the preliminary analysis of its field of responsibility, in the elucidation of problems raised in discussion, and in the final embodiment of its decisions in constitutional drafts and detailed recommenda-

tions. As Constitutional Adviser, I was expected to provide a large part of that help, in co-operation with the Research Secretary. The relationship to the committee of the New Zealand Constitutional Adviser, C. C. Aikman, was more complex. At first his advice tended to be received with caution and some doubt. But, when the committee became satisfied that he spoke from personal conviction and from knowledge of local circumstances, and not as a mere spokesman * In 1965 Pilia’e was the representative of Samoa at the meeting of the Commonwealth Parliamentary Association held in Wellington.

358 SAMOA MO SAMOA for New Zealand, it gave him its confidence; and, as a constitutional lawyer of wide experience, he was able to make a major contribution to its work. Both the committee and its advisers were dependent on the availability of documentation relating to the subject of their work: the texts of other modern constitutions; reports on the government of countries approaching independence; text-books and commentaries on constitutional subjects. During the early meetings material of this kind was listed for acquisition. In one respect, we were in a more favourable position than earlier groups faced with similar tasks. When the constitution of Burma was being drafted in 1047, the existing constitutions that were principally looked to for guidance were those of the Republic of Ireland and Yugoslavia.® In 1959-60 we were able to draw on the results of a further decade of constitution-making;

and the constitutions of India, Malaya, Singapore and Ghana, in particular, were consulted at many points in our work. One type of responsibility fell most directly on me, because of my

past experience in Samoa and of my standing with the political leaders. Samoan conservatism—the preoccupation with continuity and with the avoidance of situations that could lead to a revival of factionalism—is inimical to rapid decision. It is felt that problems are best left unresolved till a consensus has been reached, that silence or equivocation is wisest while significant differences of opinion remain. The neglect by the Constitutional Convention of 1954 of the problem

of domestic status and the calculated incompleteness of some of its

resolutions, such as that on the Head of State, exemplified this characteristic of Samoan thinking. In the ensuing five years the constitutional ideas of the Samoan leaders had not advanced very far beyond the point they had reached at that time. But, before a constitution could be drafted, it was necessary to reach decisions in respect of these unresolved problems. In the early stages of our work expatriate

officers were inclined to express sympathy with me in my task. Did I really think the committee could reach agreement on all the central issues within the time that was available? This was a question that I found no difficulty in answering. The members of the committee were moderate and realistic men; necessity would be their spur. But I was conscious of questions of a different kind—relating to the course of discussion and the forms of persuasion through which agreement would be reached—that I knew it would be impossible to answer till our work was completed.

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 359 As the first stage in its examination of the transition to self-govern-

ment, the committee made a general survey of the whole range of problems. All matters on which decisions would have to be taken were listed; data papers were prepared on the most important of them; and possible lines of action, including those recommended by the 1954 convention, were considered. Two sets of circumstances arose, how-

ever, that quite soon compelled the abandonment of this leisurely approach. First, it was realized that detailed recommendations would have to be prepared as soon as possible on the establishment of Western Samoan citizenship. A general election was due at the end of 1960. As the new Legislative Assembly would continue in office after self-

government had been attained, it was thought desirable that only citizens should vote in the election. To achieve this end without injustice, it would be necessary for a Citizenship Ordinance to be enacted in 1959, in order to give residents who possessed some other citizenship time to decide whether or not to elect for that of Western Samoa. Secondly, a special United Nations Visiting Mission was due

to arrive in the territory towards the end of March. This mission, which had been appointed at the suggestion of New Zealand, was primarily concerned with assessing Western Samoa’s readiness for the termination of trusteeship.1° It, therefore, became necessary to demonstrate that Samoan opinion had begun to crystallize on some of the more important constitutional issues and that a reasonable measure of agreement had been reached. For this purpose a series of informal meetings was held, both before and during the mission’s visit, of the Fautua and the whole membership

of the Legislative Assembly. I attended these meetings, in order to provide explanations and to emphasize the need for acceptable and clear-cut decisions. As a result of the adoption of this procedure, a great deal of ground was covered in a short time. Resolutions were adopted on several matters that were understood to be of particular concern to the mission, including the position of Head of State and the

future relationship of Western Samoa with New Zealand. At this stage the term ‘independence’ began to be used, in place of ‘selfgovernment’. Emotively, the word ‘independence’ was more attractive

to the Samoans; and it was now more accurately descriptive of the intentions of the Samoan and New Zealand governments. In New Zealand it had been decided that a treaty should not be signed between

the two countries till after the termination of trusteeship, in order that the two countries could negotiate on terms of legal equality. The

360 SAMOA MO SAMOA resolution on the future ‘special relationship’ therefore reiterated the New Zealand view, while leaving open the question of the treaty’s contents till detailed suggestions had been received from Wellington. Two other matters came before these meetings at short notice. The first of these was a detailed proposal by the New Zealand government for the introduction of ‘the first stage of cabinet government’ at the beginning of 1960. The second was an informal intimation by the mission that the United Nations General Assembly would almost certainly require the conduct of a plebiscite to determine the attitude of the people towards the termination of the trusteeship agreement. To satisfy the General Assembly such a plebiscite would have to be conducted on the basis of universal suffrage."

The proposal for the early introduction of cabinet government aroused no serious doubts, since it was in line with frequently expressed Samoan wishes. It was agreed to in principle; and certain relatively minor amendments were suggested. But the proposal for a plebiscite was far less readily acceptable. In the opinion of the meeting,

the Legislative Assembly itself and, a fortiori, the forthcoming constitutional convention should be considered fully representative of the Samoan people. Any suggestion that they were not implied criticism of the concept of political representation through the matai. Might not acceptance of the United Nations point of view result in a weakening of the traditional social structure? To counter this argument, I suggested that, in the circumstances, only one question could usefully be asked:

did the Samoan leaders desire their country’s freedom on the only terms on which it could be obtained? This line of reasoning was taken

up by members. ‘If this is the gateway to the future,’ said ’Anapu Solofa, a member of the Working Committee, ‘then, we must pass through it. If our custom is valued by our people, as we believe it is,

it will not be harmed. An adjournment of the discussion was arranged, so that members might discuss the plebiscite proposal with their constituents; and the Honourable Malietoa Tanumafili made an explanatory broadcast to the country. The result was that, with some

misgivings, a resolution agreeing to a plebiscite was later passed without a dissenting vote. The Visiting Mission itself held several meetings with the Working Committee and with the informal session of the Fautua and members of the Legislative Assembly. It was an outstandingly good mission. All four of its members possessed sympathy with Samoan aspirations

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 361 and a wide and relevant experience.* On some subjects, such as citizenship, they were able to make useful points which gained accept-

ance. On others, such as the division of the people of Samoa into ‘Samoans and ‘Europeans’, they drew attention to difficulties and thus assisted later discussion in the Working Committee. But, as had been

the case with the missions of 1953 and 1956, the Samoan attitude towards them was one of courtesy and wariness. The political leaders

did not wish the work of preparing for independence to be complicated by the intrusion of foreign ways of thought. Despite these reservations, the mission’s visit was of major benefit

to Western Samoa. The relatively formal public meetings were complemented by frank and constructive private discussions, both in Samoa and in New Zealand. Deficiencies—in the educational system, for example—were effectively pointed out. Politically, the mission— which was expected to be the last to visit Western Samoa—had an effect similar to the first in 1947: by creating an occasion for decision, it speeded up the thinking of those directly concerned. Its report was

a well-informed and well-balanced document, which provided a sound background for the future discussion in the United Nations of ‘the question of Western Samoa’.

After the mission’s departure, the Working Committee greatly reduced its activities. Members needed time in which to attend to their

duties as Ministers or as members of the Legislative Assembly.t+ Moreover, the decisions that had already been reached on citizenship

and on the introduction of cabinet government had created a substantial body of work in preparing the necessary draft legislation. At its relatively infrequent meetings, the committee devoted itself mainly to considering submissions from individuals and groups who had responded to a general invitation to the public to make representations to it. This invitation, like the decision that had been made to issue press

statements and deliver broadcasts from time to time, was part of the procedure that had been agreed on for creating a sense of popular participation in the country’s preparation for independence. The next period of intensive work by the committee was a brief * The members of the mission were: Arthur S. Lall (India), chairman; Jacques

Kosciusko-Morizet (France); Omar Loutfi (United Arab Republic); and Sir Andrew Cohen (United Kingdom). t I myself had to leave Western Samoa, in order to return to my university duties. At all stages, my own limited availability imposed a further restriction on the committee’s work.

362 SAMOA MO SAMOA one in late August and early September, when the drafts of the Citizen-

ship of Western Samoa Bill (to be presented to the Legislative Assembly) and of the Samoa Amendment Bill (to be presented to the

New Zealand Parliament) were available for study. The detailed scrutiny that was given to them, and the character of the amendments proposed, revealed the extent to which the committee as a whole— not merely its most experienced and best informed members—was gaining in experience. The citizenship bill, in particular, provided a test of the committee’s understanding. Citizenship is a highly technical subject; and it is one on which politicians are rarely required to possess expert knowledge, since once a state has enacted its citizenship legislation changes are likely to be infrequent and of minor consequence. When the subject

had first been discussed earlier in the year, members had tended to see it in terms of ‘race’ and to be preoccupied with the problem of ‘dual citizenship’. They had wished to ensure that, so far as possible, all persons of Samoan descent should be able to enjoy the privileges of Western Samoan citizenship, if they wished to do so. And they had

wanted to deny these privileges to any person who possessed the citizenship of another country. This latter wish stemmed, in part, from a mistaken notion that a foreign country might seek to come to the aid of Samoan citizens who also possessed its citizenship, in the same way as consuls and naval officers had assisted their nationals in the nineteenth century. But, in part also, it related to a fear that has been shared by the nationalist leaders in many new states. It was felt

that a person who retained a foreign citizenship might not give undivided allegiance to Samoa, that he might, for example, exercise his political rights in a way that was contrary to Samoan interests. Only after prolonged discussion were these issues clarified. It was explained that citizenship related to a person’s place of birth (and to that of his father), not to ethnic origin. It was suggested that Samoans who would not automatically qualify for Western Samoan citizenship —in particular, the people of American Samoa—could be assisted, if this were thought desirable, by specially generous arrangements for naturalization. It was explained that rigorous conditions regarding the assumption and retention of Western Samoan citizenship could be imposed on persons possessing a second citizenship but that Samoa could not determine the status which these persons might still possess in relation to the citizenship law of another country. These points were eventually accepted. And the draft bill gave expression to Samoan

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 363 wishes, in the form in which Aikman and I had explained was practic-

able. When the bill came before the committee, members showed themselves to be capable of discussing fruitfully the complex issues of legal definition and administrative implementation that it raised. As amended by the committee, the bill was passed by the Legislative Assembly.*

The Samoa Amendment Bill provided for the reorganization of the executive government. The agreed scheme contained three parts: a redefinition of the functions of the High Commissioner and Council

of State; the creation of a Cabinet; and the formation of a new Executive Council, composed of the members of the Council of State and the Cabinet. Broadly speaking, the powers formerly exercised by the High Commissioner were in future to be exercised by the Council

of State (consisting, as before, of the High Commissioner and the Fautua). In this way the dignity of the Fautua was enhanced at the same

time as they withdrew from participation in the day-to-day work of the executive government. The Cabinet was to consist of a Prime Minister, appointed on the nomination of the Legislative Assembly,t and of eight other Ministers chosen by him from members of the assembly. At least one of the Ministers was to be a European member. The limitation placed on the number of Ministers arose directly out of

earlier discussions in the Working Committee, when it had been realized that, because of the absence of a party system, a Prime Minister might be tempted to build up his support in the assembly by appointing

an unnecessarily large Cabinet. The functions of the Cabinet were defined as being those of advising the Council of State and of exercising

‘the general direction and control of the Government of Western Samoa’. The Executive Council reflected the intention that the bill should introduce ‘the first stage’ of cabinet government. In addition * As has been explained, citizenship legislation was enacted (and brought into force) in advance of independence for domestic political reasons. In inter-

national law, Western Samoan citizens remained, for the time being, New Zealand protected persons. For a more detailed account of the actual provisions

of the legislation, see: J. W. Davidson, “The Citizenship of Western Samoa Ordinance’, The Journal of the Polynesian Society, LXVIUI (1959), 146-8.

+ The draft bill actually provided for the appointment as Prime Minister of ‘a Member of the Legislative Assembly who is likely to command the confidence of the majority of Members of that Assembly’. The Working Committee

requested that this should be changed to read: °*. . . who commands the confidence. . .’. This amendment, which was accepted by New Zealand, was intended to ensure that no appointment would be made till the Legislative Assembly had considered the matter and submitted a nomination.

364 SAMOA MO SAMOA to possessing the formal powers—such as that of making orders in council—that were vested in the British Privy Council or the New Zealand Executive Council, it was to provide a procedure for the

review of Cabinet decisions. If two members of the Council of State opposed a Cabinet decision in the Executive Council, or asked for its amendment, the decision would be referred back to Cabinet. At that stage, power would lie with Cabinet, which could either accept

the advice of the members of the Council of State or reaffirm its original decision. Only if Cabinet proposed some new course of action could the Executive Council again be summoned to consider it. The

procedure was thus genuinely one of review, not of encroachment upon the authority of Cabinet.

The bill also dealt with several other matters, of which the most important was the machinery for the control of the public service. In place of a Public Service Commissioner appointed by the GovernorGencral of New Zealand, there was to be a Public Service Commission

of up to three members appointed by the Council of State, on the advice of the Executive Council; and the commission was to be required to ‘comply with the general policy of the Government of Western Samoa relating to the Western Samoan Public Service, and ... with such policy directions as may from time to time be given by the Executive Council. ..’. The broad objective of subordination of the public service authorities to the executive government, which had been sought by the Legislative Assembly since 1951 (and by the High Commissioner since 1949), was thus finally to be realized.* The amendments to the draft bill proposed by the Working Committee were accepted by the New Zealand government and parliament; and the Samoa Amendment Act, 1959, came into force on I October. The Legislative Assembly had, in anticipation, made its choice for the office of Prime Minister. Three members of the assembly

had been nominated: the Honourable Fiamé Mata’afa Faumuina Mulinu’a II, Minister for Agriculture; the Honourable Eugene Paul, Leader of Government Business and Minister for Economic Development; and Tualaulelei Mauri, a former Minister.t In the first ballot, Fiamé had emerged as the leading contender but lacked an absolute * Full advantage was not taken by the government of the legal changes. The serving Public Service Commissioner was appointed as the sole member of the new commission. He took a different view from that of the Executive Council as to the character of the ‘policy directions’ with which he was required to comply. + Tualaulelei had ceased to be a Minister earlier in the year.

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 365 majority; in the second ballot, he had been selected. He, in turn, had chosen, as members of his Cabinet, the six elected Ministers in the

outgoing Executive Council (including Paul) and two additional members (including Tualaulelei). Superficially, the choice of Fiamé as the first Prime Minister was a

surprising one in so conservative a society. He was only thirty-eight years of age and a comparative newcomer to politics. His actions

five years earlier, as a member of the Constitutional Convention, when he had both advocated universal suffrage and threatened to maintain a position of non-co-operation unless his status as the holder

of the Mata’afa title was recognized, had created anxiety as to his ambitions, rather than confidence in his claims to leadership. Yet, at a deeper level, his choice was wholly in accord with Samoan ideas and values. He was a tama diga. He had shown firmness and clarity of mind as Minister for Agriculture. Less tangibly, though of no less importance,

he had created in the minds of members an image of himself as a traditional Samoan leader. Eloquent and allusive in speech, confident but unaggressive in action, aloof but not unfriendly in manner, he had gained the respect of all and avoided close association with any group

or faction. He was a leader who, like a good matai in his relations with his family, kept in sensitive touch with the feelings and opinions of those who had entrusted him with authority. And his first decision after his nomination, in selecting the outgoing Ministers and his rivals

for the Prime Ministership as members of his Cabinet, confirmed this reputation. It showed that he was determined to maintain the unity of the country during the remainder of the transition to independence.

The inauguration of cabinet government was, in itself, a major contribution towards the smooth completion of the transition to independence. When the New Zealand government had formulated its proposals, its primary intention had been to give the Samoans a useful period of experience in exercising full control in domestic matters before they entered upon the wider responsibilities which independence would bring. That objective was amply achieved: the

new Cabinet governed effectively and won the confidence of the assembly and the country as a whole. But the change had other important consequences as well. Experience of a functioning cabinet system provided answers to a number of questions that had previously seemed difhicult to the Working Committee, so that the framing of constitutional provisions relating to the executive was later handled with confidence and expedition. Moreover, the change removed any

366 SAMOA MO SAMOA remaining causes of friction between Samoa and New Zealand. Previously, the position of the High Commissioner had been an anomalous one. As the representative of New Zealand and, at the same time, chairman of a predominantly Samoan Executive Council, he had been forced to be a spokesman for both sides. Now, the division of responsibility was clearly defined; and representatives of the two governments could discuss Samoan problems on terms of equality.

One result, of a very different kind, also flowed from the introduction of cabinet government. For ten years Samoa had been guided by G. R. Powles, as High Commissioner. With the gradual transfer of responsibility to representatives of the Samoan people (in accordance

with plans that he had largely framed), he had modified his own executive role, imaginatively and successfully. But the establishment of a Cabinet, by removing the High Commissioner completely from

the ordinary work of the executive government, reduced his responsibilities far more radically than had previous changes. In April 1960, therefore, he relinquished his office. His successor was John Bird Wright, the former Secretary to the Government of Western Samoa and, subsequently, Secretary of Island Territories in Wellington.

Superficially, his appointment was, in one respect, more surprising than that of Fiamé as Prime Minister: he was living in Samoa as a cocoa planter, a member of the small European settler group. But the Fautua and the Prime Minister had made it clear that, in his case, they regarded this association as no disqualification. His past work for the

country had been outstanding. His personal qualities, as a man of great talent and unusual modesty, had won him the warm regard

of the Samoans. As High Commissioner, he contributed most significantly to the amity and frankness of relations between the governments of Samoa and New Zealand during the remaining stages in the transition to independence.

IN January 1960 the Working Committee began its most onerous task: the drafting of the Constitution. The time available for this work was

strictly limited by the provisional programme for the attainment of independence. As the United Nations General Assembly was expected

to consider the procedure for the termination of the trusteeship agreement in October or November, it would be necessary for the Constitutional Convention to adopt the Constitution, in its final

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 367 form, before that date. This meant, in turn, that the committee’s draft must be completed and made available for study well in advance of

the meeting of the convention. Initially, the committee hoped to complete the draft by May; but it recognized that the making of any predictions was hazardous. At the beginning of the year, Ministers were involved in the preparation of the annual budget, in addition to their normal duties. When the budget was completed, all members of the committee (other than the Joint Chairmen) would be engaged for a considerable time in discussing it, along with other business, in the Legislative Assembly. In the event, the draft was not completed till early in July.* And it was finished then only as a result of very long hours of work. Cabinet meetings, for example, were sometimes held

at night or early in the morning, to leave most of the day free for the work of the committee. Apart from the actual drafting of the specific provisions of the Constitution, the committee had to consider a number of more general questions. To what extent should constitutional provisions be entrenched or, in other words, how difficult should it be made for

them to be amended? And—dependent upon the answer to that question—where should the line be drawn between matters for which provision should be made in the Constitution and those that should be covered by ordinary legislation? Similarly, what should be left to be determined by practice and convention and, therefore, not be defined either in the Constitution or in ordinary law? Again, to what extent, if at all, should the Constitution seek to impose solutions in advance

of current Samoan opinion? The final answers to these questions were found as work proceeded; but some of them were considered, in terms of general principle, at the beginning.

In regard to constitutional amendment, a relatively simple procedure was decided upon. With any bill providing for an amendment of the Constitution, at least ninety days would be required to elapse

between the second and third readings; and at the third reading a two-thirds majority would be necessary for the bill to pass.t Such a procedure, it was considered, would give ample time for careful consideration, outside the legislature as well as within it, and would * The draft was prepared in English by Aikman and me and translated into Samoan by Etené Sa’aga, translator and interpreter to the committee. Members

of the committee used both versions and often discussed difficult points of

translation.

t+ One provision, that relating to the protection of customary lands, was entrenched more firmly. In that case, a plebiscite would also be required.

368 SAMOA MO SAMOA ensure that amendments were genuinely in line with majority opinion. At the same time, it should not make amendment unduly difficult.

The committee’s answer to the question as to what should be included in the Constitution and what in ordinary legislation cannot,

in the nature of things, be stated so simply. It was a question that had continually to be asked as each new subject came up for discussion.

But one factor was always present in the situation. This was the character of the existing constitution, established by the Samoa Act, 1921, and its various amendments. From the Samoan point of view, this was ‘fundamental law’, since the Legislative Assembly could not

amend it; but, to the New Zealand Parliament, it was ordinary legislation. Moreover, since New Zealand had not originally intended

to confer wide powers on any legislative body in Samoa, the Act made very detailed provision for the various subjects with which it dealt. Since 1947 most of the constitutional provisions in the Act had

been recast, in agreement with the representatives of the Samoan people, so that—with all its detail—it was thought of as part of the familiar framework of Samoan government, rather than as an instru-

ment of external control. Careful consideration was, therefore, necessary before a decision was made to include any provision in the Constitution on the ground that a similar provision was in the Act.*

The point at which the division is made between matters to be determined by law and those left to be determined by practice and convention is one of great interest and importance in respect of any country engaged in establishing a basically Western type of govern-

ment in a non-Western society. A major part of the argument for adopting a largely written constitution in these circumstances is concerned with the inevitable conflict between the conventions appropriate to a modern system of government and those sanctioned by the traditional culture. However, if a sufficient degree of flexibility is not left, the institutions of government will not function effectively, and the constitution itself will necessarily fall into some disrepute. This was a problem that the committee discussed at length in relation

to many constitutional provisions. In one area particularly it was decided to leave a large measure of flexibility. Bodies constituted by the Constitution—the Head of State, the Cabinet and the Legislative * Sir Ivor Jennings has suggested that the Constitution of India contains much unnecessary detail, as a result of its drafters having followed too closely the Government of India Act, 1935. See his Some Characteristics of the Indian Constitution . . . (Madras, 1953), 17-18.

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 369 Assembly, for example—were given wide authority to determine their own rules of procedure. In this respect the committee went

rather further in the direction of allowing flexibility than constitution-making bodies in many other countries have done. It did so

from a feeling that the conventions of modern government had already taken firm root in Western Samoa.* As soon as the committee began to discuss the subject of Fundamental Rights, it was forced to consider the question of whether the Constitution should be used for the enactment of reforms for which an

unambiguous public demand had not yet developed.t It concluded that this should not normally be done. For example, although the abolition of capital punishment was fairly widely supported, it was felt that this was an issue that the Legislative Assembly should be left to determine, in order that the arguments for and against the change could be examined fully and at leisure.t In a few cases, however, the

committee decided that there were special reasons for including a ‘progressive’ provision in the Constitution itself. For example, a guarantee to ‘all citizens of Western Samoa’ of the ‘right . . . to move freely throughout Western Samoa and to reside in any part thereof’ was included, so as to prevent legal or judicial support of any order of banishment imposed by the ali’i and faipule of a village. Members

considered that the practice of banishment was incompatible both with Christian principles and with the requirements of an economy based on the production of cash crops; and they were disturbed by the tendency of expatriate judges to become the protectors of an element in Samoan custom that the people themselves were increasingly ready

to abandon.! In some other matters which the committee regarded as of particular and urgent importance, such as the making of provision for an adequate system of granting leases over customary land, a draft * The ability of members of the committee to expound the Standing Orders of the Legislative Assembly and the immediate success of cabinet government can be cited as evidence that this feeling was justified. + Fundamental Rights form the subject of Part II of the Constitution. t Article 5, Clause (1) reads: ‘No person shall be deprived of his life intentionally, except in the execution of a sentence of a court following his conviction of an offence for which this penalty is provided by Act’. It was thus left within the discretion of the assembly as to whether any future Act should (like the existing law) provide for capital punishment in any circumstances. References to specific Parts or Articles of the Constitution are, for simplicity, to The Constitution of the Independent State of Western Samoa [Apia, 1960], rather than to the Draft Constitution of the Independent State of Western Samoa (Apia, 1960). As will become apparent below, the differences between the two documents are ones of drafting, not of substance.

370 SAMOA MO SAMOA resolution was prepared for consideration by the Constitutional Convention.“ It was thought that the adoption of these resolutions would provide a clear indication to the future government that their substance should be brought before the assembly for study and action. There was one fundamental question that the committee did not have to consider: what kind of constitution should Western Samoa

possess? It was taken for granted that it should be of the British parliamentary type, with a head of state exercising powers broadly similar to those exercised by the Queen in the United Kingdom, and with control of the executive government vested in a cabinet responsible to the legislature. This assumption stemmed largely from the

territory’s forty-five years’ association with New Zealand and, in particular, from the constitutional changes and discussions of the period since 1947. But it was an assumption that was peculiarly congenial to Samoan thinking. The conventions of the traditional political system, which distinguished between titular supremacy and executive authority, and which emphasized the role of conciliar discussion as the formal basis of decision-making, accorded well with those of parliamentary government. A presidential system, such as that

of the United States, would, on the contrary, have run counter to Samoan canons of political propriety. By conferring both titular and executive roles on the president, and by creating the possibility of lasting conflict between the executive and the legislature, it would have

provided a potent breeding ground for Samoan factionalism. The adoption of a parliamentary system of government was the result of circumstance, rather than of conscious decision. But, in drafting the actual provisions of the Constitution, the committee was constantly aware of the need to adapt legal terminology to the requirements of local conditions. As a result, few provisions followed exactly the wording of other constitutions, and not many were taken without

change from the Samoa Act. However, some parts of the Constitution dealt with relatively technical matters, while others— particularly, Part III (The Head of State), Part IV (The Executive), Part V ((Parliament) and Part IX (Land and Titles)—were directly concerned with some of the most important aspects of Samoan social and political organization.* In the drafting of these latter parts, the * The Constitution contains a Preamble, twelve Parts (comprising a total of 124 Articles), and three Schedules. The Parts are, as follows: Part I, The Independent State of Western Samoa and its Supreme Law; Part II, Fundamental Rights; Part III, The Head of State; Part IV, The Executive; Part V, Parliament;

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 371 knowledge and intelligence of the committee and its advisers were put to their severest test.

The subject matter of Part III (The Head of State) presented the most complex problem of all. It had always been taken for granted that tenure of this office would be associated with the holders of the highest Samoan titles, since these persons symbolized the dignity and. unity of Samoan society, just as the Head of State would symbolize the dignity and unity of the Samoan state. The question of initial tenure

had been settled by the Constitutional Convention of 1954 in its resolution that the office should be held jointly by Tupua Tamasese

Mea’ole and Malietoa Tanumafili II (‘the present Hon. Fautua’) for life. But the more difficult questions relating to future appointments remained unresolved. Would a vacancy be created by the death or resignation of one of the initial holders? By what procedure should vacancies be filled and who should be eligible to contend for the office?

Finally, if candidature should be restricted to the holders of the highest titles, should some form of political recognition be accorded to those of them who were not serving as Head of State and should any limitations be placed upon their right to participate in politics at a more

workaday level? The resolution adopted by the informal meeting of the Fautua and members of the Legislative Assembly in 19509, which had merely declared ‘that future vacancies in the Head of State be appointed by the Parliament of Western Samoa from the two royal families’, had made no significant contribution to the answering of these questions. The committee’s discussions, which were conducted in the absence of the Joint Chairmen, on account of their personal interest, were full

and frank and infused with a sense of the critical importance of the issues. But they were difficult and prolonged; and on a number of occasions discussion was adjourned, so that members might give the subject further thought. On one matter agreement was easily reached: members were convinced that joint tenure should be abandoned once existing commitments had been honoured. But this decision intensified Part VI, The Judiciary; Part VII, The Public Service; Part VIII, Finance; Part IX,

Land and Titles; Part X, Emergency Powers; Part XI, General and Miscellaneous; Part XII, Transitional. The Constitution of the Independent State of Western Samoa, which was first

issued in book form by the Government Printer of Western Samoa shortly after its adoption in 1960, has been reprinted as required. The Government of Western Samoa published a popular summary of the Constitution in The Plebiscite and the Constitution (Apia, 1961), 8-16.

372 SAMOA MO SAMOA other problems. Most members believed that eligibility for the office of Head of State should be restricted; and many coupled this with the

view that those who were eligible should be excluded from participation in ordinary political life. These opinions created difficulties at both the representational and personal levels. In Samoan custom

there are two related, but often conflicting, concepts: those of the royal lines (SA Tupua and Sa Malietoa) and the tama’diga (or ‘royal sons’). Samoans tend to give priority to one or the other, depending on its potential utility to them in relation to the attainment of some immediate objective. Of the four titles currently recognized as giving their holders the status of tama’ diga—Malietoa, Tupua Tamasese, Mata’afa and Tuimaleali’ifano—three were associated with $4 Tupua and only one with Sa Malietoa. A simple decision equating eligibility with the possession of the status of tama’diga could have resulted in the exclusion of $4 Malietoa from the highest political office for a dangerously long period. One favouring alternation between the two families

would have penalized the leaders of S4 Tupua. If either decision were combined with the exclusion of the tama’diga from active politics, a firm foundation for political dissension—and probably revolution—would have been laid. These dangers would, of course, have been maximized if it had been decided that the office of Head of

State should continue to be held for life. To complicate matters further, a minority of members believed that eligibility should not be

restricted to the holders of the highest titles; and this view seemed certain to gain increasing support over the years.

Eventually, all these problems were resolved. On the death of Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole or Malietoa Tanumafili II, the survivor would continue as sole holder of the office.* On his death, or prior

vacation of office, new provisions would come into force. The Legislative Assembly would, thenceforth, elect a single Head of State

for a five-year term. Eligibility for election could be restricted by resolution of the assembly; and the committee recommended that it should be so restricted to the tama’diga. A Council of Deputies would also be constituted to perform the functions of the Head of State during his absence or incapacity. This body, to which the Legislative Assembly was to be required to make its first elections ‘as soon as possible after

Independence Day’, could have a membership of up to three; and * A vacancy in the office of Head of State could also be created by resignation or by the removal of a holder of it by the Legislative Assembly ‘on the ground of misbehaviour or of infirmity of body or mind’ (Article 21).

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 373 eligibility for election would be subject to the same restrictions as those applying to election as Head of State. A position of dignity in the political structure would thus be available—as Head of State or as a member of the Council of Deputies—to all the tama’aiga. Acceptance

of such a position would preclude the holder from participating in active politics. But any of the tama’diga who wished to follow a political career—as Fiamé Mata’afa was then doing—could retain the freedom to do so by declining election as Head of State or as a member

of the Council of Deputies. Finally, by providing that restrictions should be imposed only by resolution of the assembly, the Draft

Constitution left the way open for a widening of eligibility for election as Head of State whenever Samoan opinion should change.*

In Part IV (The Executive) and Part V (Parliament) two complex groups of problems had to be solved. One of these related to the reconciliation of the requirements of effective government with the desire to protect the dignity and rights of Ministers and Members of Parliament and with the present absence of a party system. The other related to the questions of suffrage and domestic status. The 1954 Convention, in deciding that a cabinet should retain office unless it was defeated in the legislature by a two-thirds majority and that the legislature itself should not be dissolved except at regular

three-yearly intervals, had clearly reflected Samoan reluctance to subordinate the claims of dignity and personal standing to the needs of * Article 18, Clause (2), reads, in part: A person shall not be qualified to be elected to the office of Head of State— (a) if he is not a person qualified to be elected as a Member of Parliament; or (b) if he does not possess such other qualifications as the Legislative Assembly

may determine from time to time by resolution; .... The proposal that eligibility should be restricted to the tama’diga by resolution,

rather than by constitutional provision, marked a break-through in our discussions. It was pointed out that the inclusion of the term tama’diga in the Constitution would render it liable to judicial interpretation, if any question involving eligibility should come before the courts. It was suggested that, since the concept was of customary origin, it would be safer to leave its interpretation to Parlia-

ment, whose members would be well acquainted both with custom itself and with the traditional procedures for arriving at an acceptable definition, in the event of a dispute arising. So long as Members of Parliament continued to hold the opinion that only the tama’diga should be eligible for election to the highest political office, it was further suggested, a resolution would be as effective as a provision in the Constitution. This argument was acceptable to the conservative majority in the committee, since it believed that Samoan opinion on this issue would not change. It was acceptable to the minority taking a more radical line for precisely the opposite reason. Arguments of this general type were of crucial importance at a number of points in our discussions. N

374 SAMOA MO SAMOA administrative efficiency. A number of members of the Working Committee had not abandoned this attitude of mind; but they had come to accept the need for its expression in a qualified form, largely as a result of discussion of the Samoa Amendment Bill in 1959 and

subsequent experience of the working of cabinet government. In place of the suggested requirement of a two-thirds majority on a vote of no confidence, it was provided that: The appointment of the Prime Minister shall... be terminated by the Head of State—

.. «if the Legislative Assembly passes a motion in express words of no confidence in Cabinet or if Cabinet is defeated on any question or issue which the Prime Minister has declared to be a question or issue of confidence. . . .19

The issue of a premature dissolution of the Legislative Assembly was covered by a proviso to the same Clause: *. . . if after the passing of such a motion or after that defeat the Prime Minister so requests, the

Head of State may dissolve the Legislative Assembly instead of terminating the appointment of the Prime Minister’. The wording of the proviso reflected the committee’s continuing fear of an overpowerful executive, in that it gave the Head of State discretion, in

such a case, to accept or reject the Prime Minister’s advice. The committee hoped by this means to prevent dissolutions engineered by a Prime Minister in order to enhance his own power, while making an early dissolution possible when it was necessary to the maintenance of effective government.

The tenure of office of the Cabinet presented one other problem. Where a party system is operating, the results of a general election normally indicate whether or not the existing cabinet has retained the confidence of the legislature. If its supporters are clearly in a minority,

its resignation will be tendered to the Head of State even before the new legislature has met. Under the conditions ruling in Western Samoa, on the other hand, election results would leave the position obscure. When the new Legislative Assembly met, there might be some reluctance to test the position by moving a vote of no confidence; and, even if such a motion were moved and carried, it would give no clear guidance as to who should be called upon to form the new government. To overcome these difficulties, two provisions were inserted in the Draft Constitution: the first session of a new assembly

would commence within forty-five days of the general election;

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 375 and the appointment of the Prime Minister would be terminated by the Head of State within seven days of the commencement of that session, if the Prime Minister should have failed to resign.1® In that

way, each new assembly would be required to decide which of its members it wished to nominate for the office. The existing law relating to domestic status raised a number of complex problems, since the division of the population into ‘Samoans’ and ‘Europeans’ had created rights that were highly valued by those who possessed them.!” Europeans valued their right to vote in elections to the Legislative Assembly on the basis of universal suffrage. Samoans

valued the reservation to them of the rights of holding matai titles beneficially and of exercising the pule over Samoan land.* Any proposal to modify these arrangements was thus bound to arouse resistance on both sides. Yet some modification seemed essential, both to bring this part of the law into line with changing social and economic realities and to reduce likely causes of friction after independence.

The most straightforward solution to the problems created by the existing law would have required changes of three kinds: the wiping out of the legal distinction between “Samoans’ and ‘Europeans’; the adoption of new methods for the protection of rights relating to land and titles; and the introduction of an electoral system based on universal suffrage and a common roll. After a great deal of anxious thought and discussion, the Working Committee reached agreement on proposals that would achieve the first two of these changes. The Draft Constitution recognized no distinction on grounds of ‘race’, but only one between citizens of Western Samoa and non-citizens. Together with proposals for the amendment of certain parts of the law—put forward in draft Resolutions—it provided the framework for a legal system in which the terms ‘Samoan’ and ‘European’ would

not need to be used and in which rights to land and titles would be adequately protected. The third change, however, was unattainable. The committee took the view, which was shared by a majority of Samoans already possessing the vote, that no extension of the existing

Samoan franchise was immediately desirable. At the same time, it believed that those who were entitled to be on the European roll under the existing law, or who had expectations of becoming so * A European holding a matai title was legally forbidden to exercise any of the rights associated with it (including, in particular, rights in relation to land). In law, he was required to obtain the consent of the Council of State (formerly of the High Commissioner) before permitting the title to be conferred on him; but in fact this legal requirement was seldom observed.

376 SAMOA MO SAMOA entitled when they reached the age of twenty-one, should not suffer under the new Constitution. It thus became necessary to maintain two types of electoral roll and to define them in ‘non-racial’ terms. The new roll which would replace the existing European roll was, however, regarded as a temporary expedient. In the long run it was desired, for social as well as political reasons, to encourage the formation

of a fully unified Samoan community. The acceptance of this objective had two consequences. First, persons on the new roll should not be grossly over-represented in the Legislative Assembly (like the European community under the existing law), since the creation for them of a privileged position would tend to undermine the policy of assimilation.* Second, as the unassimilated minority was expected to be a steadily declining proportion of the population, a procedure

would have to be evolved for determining, from time to time, the representation to which it was entitled. This group of problems was disposed of in a rather complex series

of arrangements. It was provided in the Draft Constitution that the Legislative Assembly should consist of forty-five members elected by single-member ‘territorial constituencies’ and ‘Members elected by those persons whose names appear on the individual voters’ roll’.18 The number of members to be elected in the second category was to be

determined in accordance with a procedure set out in a Schedule annexed to the Constitution. This provided that: The number of Members of Parliament to be elected by the persons whose names appear on the individual voters’ roll shall bear, as nearly as possible, the same relationship to the number of persons deemed to be represented by those Members as the number of Members of Parliament to be elected by territorial constituencies bears to the number of persons deemed to be represented by those Members.19

For the purpose of these calculations, the forty-five members elected by

territorial constituencies were to be deemed to represent the whole population, less the estimated number of non-citizens (who would not

be entitled to a vote) and less the number of persons deemed to be represented by the members elected by individual voters. The latter members were to be deemed to represent three times the number of persons whose names appeared on the individual voters’ roll. The roll number was multiplied in this way to take account of the under-age * The European community, with five members, numbered about 6,000; Samoans, with forty-one members, numbered over 100,000.

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 377 members of voters’ families and of persons entitled to enrol who had failed to do so. The allowance made for these non-voters was calculated very generously, in order that there could be no suggestion of injustice towards a minority. For a similar reason, it was provided that any fractional entitlement under the formula should constitute entitle-

ment to an additional member. The number of members to be so elected was to be determined by an Electoral Commissioner appointed by the Head of State at intervals of between five and six years.*

In regard to suffrage, the Draft Constitution merely provided that ‘the qualifications of electors . . . shall be prescribed by Act’.?° It was assumed that the right to vote in the territorial constituencies would initially be limited to the matai; but this restriction was omitted

from the Constitution itself, in order that the suffrage could be widened as soon as there was a majority in the assembly in favour of such a change. Qualifications for inclusion in the individual voters’ roll were set out in a draft resolution, since the efficacy of the committee’s whole plan was dependent upon the legislation on this matter

following its intentions exactly. The resolution was necessarily a complex one, as difficult questions of definition had to be handled unambiguously; but its general purpose was fairly simple. It was proposed that all persons who were enrolled as European electors immediately before Independence Day, and their children on attaining * The operation of this formula can perhaps be made clearer by giving an

illustration. Assume the basic figures to be:

Total population .. _ . _ 120,000

Estimated no. of non-citizens . . . a 2,000 No. on individual voters’ roll. . - - 1,000 Then: Members elected by individual voters would

be deemed to represent 1,000 x 3 .. - 3,000

Members elected by territorial constituencies would be deemed to represent 120,000—

2,000 —3,000 .. - .. . .. 11 §,000

Each member elected by a territorial constituency would be deemed to represent

IIS,000+45.. 00 6. eee 2,555

Individual voters’ roll would be entitled to

3,000 + 2,555 (or 1.17) members and would, therefore, receive two members.

On the first occasion on which such a calculation had to be made by an Electoral

Commissioner, the number of members to be elected worked out at two (see Samoa Bulletin, 31 Jan. 1964).

378 SAMOA MO SAMOA the age of twenty-one, should be entitled, provided they were citizens,

to have their names included on the roll. A similar right would be extended to those who acquired Samoan citizenship by naturalization.*

A person in any of these categories, however, would be disqualified if he (or she) was exercising any privilege in relation to a matai title or to Samoan land or was married to a person who was doing so. An ‘individual voter’ who because disqualified in this way would not be entitled to have his name restored to the roll if his circumstances later changed. By these means, the committee intended to provide appropriate political rights for citizens who were, for one reason or another, not assimilated into the Samoan social system. At the same time, it sought to create safeguards against the enjoyment of both types of privilege contemporaneously; and, by providing that a person who

once became disqualified could not regain his right to enrolment as an ‘individual voter’, it endeavoured to promote the objective of gradual assimilation.

The provisions of Part IX of the Draft Constitution, dealing with Land and Titles, were extremely brief; but, together with the related draft resolutions (and with the proposals for an individual voters’ roll), they made possible the abolition of the existing legal distinction between ‘Samoans’ and ‘Europeans’. In law, a Samoan was ‘a person

belonging to one or more of the Polynesian races’; and the term ‘Polynesian’ was itself defined as including “Melanesian, Micronesian, and Maori’. A person of pure Polynesian descent (in this special sense of the term) was a Samoan, without qualification. A person of mixed

descent who was half or more than half Polynesian might be either a Samoan or a European, depending upon a variety of circumstances; and he could ask the High Court to change his status from one to the other. Anyone who was by descent more than half non-Polynesian was, without qualification, a European. These legal provisions, which had been intended to protect the Samoans against the blandishments * The full list of those entitled to have their names on the roll was as follows: (a) Persons whose names are included on the European roll on 31 December 1961; (b) Persons who are the children of fathers whose names were included in, or who if then alive would have qualified to have their names included in, the European roll on 31 December 1961; (c) Persons who acquire citizenship of Western Samoa by naturalization; (d) Persons who are citizens of Western Samoa by birth and who are the children

of fathers who are not citizens of Western Samoa or of fathers who if alive

would not have automatically qualified to be citizens of Western Samoa. (See Resolutions, 5.)

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 379 of a better educated and wealthier minority, were by now both unnecessary and productive of consequences of a socially and politically

undesirable kind. An American Samoan, a Tongan or a Solomon Islander could hold a matai title without restriction, since legally he was regarded as being of Polynesian descent; but a member of an old-established Western Samoan family who was slightly more than half non-Polynesian was subject to the restrictions of an unchangeable European status.* The Draft Constitution provided that: “A matai title shall be held in accordance with Samoan custom and usage and with the law relating

to Samoan custom and usage’.24 Samoan land, which would in future be known as ‘customary land’, was to be specially protected against alienation.f And disputes in relation to tmatai titles and to * This anomalous situation was not of merely theoretical interest. Two European members of the Working Committee and its Research Secretary— all members of well-known Western Samoan families—were ineligible for Samoan status, as they were more than half European by descent. The opposite situation can also be illustrated. A few years earlier a well-known resident whose father was German and whose mother was Tongan had successfully applied to have himself declared a Samoan. + This was provided in Article 102 (No alienation of customary land) and Article 109 (Amendment of Constitution). The former Article imposed a complete pro-

hibition on any alienation of customary land, or of any interest in it, subject to the terms of the following proviso: Provided that an Act of Parliament may authorize— (a) the granting of a lease or licence of any customary land or of any interest therein; (b) the taking of any customary land or any interest therein for public purposes.

The latter Article, after setting out the normal procedure for amendment of the Constitution, added the following proviso: Provided that no bill amending, repealing or adding to the provisions of Article 102 or the provisions of this proviso shall be submitted to the Head of State for assent until it has been submitted to a poll of the electors on the rolls for the territorial constituencies . . . and unless it has been supported by two-thirds of the valid votes cast in such a poll.

Subsequently, doubt has been cast on the efficacy of the proviso to Article 102 in relation to legislation dealing with the granting of leases or licences and consideration has been given to invoking the special procedure laid down in the proviso to Article 109 in order to resolve the problem. In view of the extremely conservative attitude of the Samoan electorate in matters relating to land tenure, it would be difficult to obtain approval for any proposed amendment. Less rigorous

constitutional provisions would not, however, have been acceptable to the Working Committee or the Constitutional Convention. A suggestion of my own, for example, that Article 102 should permit legislation authorizing the exchange of land between different Samoan ’diga—which would have been acceptable in Samoan custom before the catastrophic land alienations of the 1870s

—was promptly rejected by the Working Committee. The adoption of the term ‘customary land’, in place of ‘Samoan land’, was complemented by the adoption of ‘freehold land’, in place of ‘European land’.

380 SAMOA MO SAMOA customary land were, as at present, to be referred to the Land and Titles Court.22 The Draft Constitution thus sought to ensure that land and titles matters should continue to be determined in accordance with custom. Parliament could make laws to determine the procedure to be

followed when any matter relating to the interpretation or effect of custom was in doubt; but it could not overrule custom. Having established this position the committee was able to propose a radical change in the conditions governing eligibility to hold matai titles and to exercise the privileges associated with them. In a draft resolution, it recommended: 1. That only citizens of Western Samoa shall be permitted to hold matai titles.

2. (a) That all citizens of Western Samoa who are related to families possessing rights to customary land shall be eligible, in accordance with Samoan custom and usage, to hold matai titles and to hold the pule over customary land. (b) That any dispute as to whether the holding of a matai title or the pule over customary land by any citizen is in accordance with Samoan custom and usage shall be determined, as at present, by the Land and Titles Court.?3

As had been foreshadowed when the Citizenship of Western Samoa Bill was before the Legislative Assembly in 1959, the holding of titles

by non-citizens would thus no longer be permitted. But, among Western Samoan citizens, an equality regardless of race would be established, in that any citizen who was related, in accordance with

custom (i.e., by blood, adoption or marriage) to a Samoan “diga would be eligible to become a matai and to exercise all the privileges of his position. In reaching decisions that were both clear and comprehensive on subjects such as the Head of State and domestic status, in its various aspects, the Working Committee had provided a firm foundation for

the government of the future Samoan state. But the drafting of the Constitution raised several further problems of importance in relation to national sentiment, rather than to the type of government that the Samoan people would possess. One of these concerned the name of the state itself. Consideration was given to the use of the term ‘Samoa’, in place of “Western Samoa’, since the Samoans, like the Irish, had never accepted the legitimacy of an imposed partition. This proposal, however, was soon abandoned, in the interests both of clear identi-

THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 381 fication and of amicable relations with American Samoa and the United States. More important was the question of choosing a term to describe the new state. ‘Kingdom’ or “elective monarchy’, which would have accorded with Samoan sentiment, were inappropriate; and ‘republic’, which would have been accurate, was wholly unacceptable. Other terms that were thought of, such as ‘principality’, were rejected for one reason or another. The final decision, therefore, was in favour of the term ‘Independent State of Western Samoa’. Another such question was that of language, on which members of the committee took a characteristically moderate line. It was decided that the proceedings of the Legislative Assembly, and all documents associated with its work, should be in both Samoan and English.*4 In respect of the Constitution itself, where the paucity of Samoan terms for the expression of legal concepts presented a problem, it was provided that, in case of any difference of meaning, the English text should prevail.?°

The Working Committee had been able to reach solutions to the most difficult problems of Samoan politics where these had remained beyond the reach of earlier groups, in part, because of the long period over which its members had worked together and, in part, because it had been able to see each one in its relationship to the structure of the Samoan state as a whole. As it approached the end of its task, it was inevitable that those who had contributed to its deliberations should speculate as to how far these factors would, or could, affect the thinking

of members of the Constitutional Convention. They would be far more numerous and, on the whole, far less experienced; and it would be necessary for them to complete their own work within a relatively short time. But the committee's success had been influenced by other factors, as well. It had treated the problem of constitution-making as one of politics, as much as of law. It had always been conscious that it

was engaged upon a task of historic importance, that the future of Samoa would depend, in no small degree, upon the correctness of its decisions. And these factors should also influence the convention. Yet the matters to come before it were so numerous and so intricate that

a great deal would have to be taken on trust. It was realized by the committee and its advisers that the achievement of the convention would be largely dependent upon their own ability to win support for the Draft Constitution and for the other documents they were placing before it.

[2 THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 HE Ordinance establishing the Constitutional Convention was

“T ouace! in May 1960.1 The convention was to consist of the Fautua, the members of the Legislative Assembly, Tuimaleali’ifano (as a tama’ diga who would not otherwise have been included), three

additional representatives of each Samoan constituency and ten additional representatives of the European community. The right to vote in the election of the additional members, and to sit in the convention, was restricted to Western Samoan citizens. The Fautua were named as Joint Chairmen and the Prime Minister as Deputy Chairman,

an arrangement that was intended both to serve the interests of practical convenience and to demonstrate the unity of the titular and the executive leadership of the country. The Ordinance declared that the convention was established ‘for the purpose of making provision as to the constitution of Western Samoa’; but it conferred no powers

upon it. Since the intention was to create a break with the law of New Zealand, the power to adopt the Constitution was to be assumed by the convention itself.

The election of the additional members was held in July.* The Draft Constitution was distributed shortly afterwards to all members for study; and the press and radio were used to disseminate knowledge of its contents to the people generally. The convention assembled for its Opening meeting on 16 August.

The intellectual tone of the Constitutional Convention was far different from that of the previous convention in 1954. To some extent, this was a consequence of changed circumstances. Members knew that the country’s long cherished objective of “Samoa mo Samoa’ was on the point of fulfilment; and they were conscious, as the Working Committee had believed they would be, of the importance of their * Only five nominations were received for the ten additional European seats; and one of those who was nominated later withdrew. + The Draft Constitution of the Independent State of Western Samoa (Apia, 1960) contained, in addition to the draft constitution, an explanatory preface and the draft resolutions adopted by the committee. 382

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 383

own contribution towards its attainment. Moreover, the matters that they were required to consider, unlike the broadly-framed resolutions of 1954, were detailed and specific. To an equal extent, however, the difference between the two conventions reflected a change in the political experience and outlook of the participants. A few older members, it is true, still lived in the past and interpreted

problems very largely in customary terms; and one of them, in particular—the blind Fata Matua, of Afega—remained consistently suspicious of every alien influence upon Samoan politics. But most members accepted the need for a constitution framed in modern terms and examined its proposed provisions realistically. The creation of the greatly enlarged Legislative Assembly in 1957 provided it with a much bigger nucleus of members who possessed experience of the

work of a legislative body. But among the additional members, also, there were many who adapted themselves easily and effectively to the conditions of constitutional discussions. In the main, these were members who brought to their work in the convention a background of experience in government (either as public servants or as members of

boards or commissions), or in church affairs or commerce. Two members of this type were Magele Tagailetoaono Ate, a former officer of New Zealand Reparation Estates, and Tagaloa Siaosi, a successful trader and prominent churchman, both of whom had previously possessed European status.* Another was Paitomaleifi Siaki, the holder of an important title in Falealili. Paitomaleifi had taken little part in politics since the 1930s (when he had been active

in the Mau); but he had lived for a time in the United States, had taught in a school in American Samoa, and had been a member of the Western Samoan public service. He was a thoughtful, well-read man. Since he had returned to his village, he had spent much of his time translating English books—including a text-book in philosophy— into Samoan. During his membership of the convention, he reported its proceedings for one of the local papers. Equally significant, against the background of Samoan conservatism, was the part played in the

proceedings of the convention by its youngest member, A’e’au Taulupo’o. A’e’au, who had obtained leave from the public servce in order to sit in the convention, was in his early twenties and had represented Western Samoa at Rugby football earlier in the year.

Through education, and as a son of the senior associate judge, * Both Magele and Tagaloa were elected to the Legislative Assembly in 1961. Three years later, Magele became Deputy Speaker.

384 SAMOA MO SAMOA Seumanutafa Tonumaipe’a Lafaiali’i, he possessed advantages that most of his seniors lacked. He displayed both energy and skill as a debater and, on occasion, put forward his own interpretation of constitutional provisions when criticizing that presented on behalf of the Working Committee. He was undeterred by his youth, and other members did not discount his arguments on account of it. The importance attached by members to their responsibilities was itself productive of some tension during the early meetings. A good many members regretted, and a few resented, the fact that the con-

vention had not been convened till after the drafting of the Constitution. The first contribution from the floor—a motion seeking

to confirm the appointment of the Joint Chairmen and Deputy Chairman—reflected the inclination of members to assert their rights.”

A similar attitude was evident during consideration of the draft Rules of Procedure, which had been prepared by the Working Committee. An amendment was moved, for example, to alter the composition of the steering committee of the convention, so that members of the Working Committee should not be in a dominant position upon it.* This motion was defeated (by ninety-four votes to sixty-nine). But another, and far more embarrassing, amendment was carried. The draft rules provided that the convention should sit from 9 a.m. till 12 noon and from 1.30 p.m. till 4.30 p.m. from Monday to Friday each week. Ulualofaiga Talamaivao, a member of the Legislative Assembly, moved that sitting hours should be from 9 a.m. to

1 p.m.t A number of arguments were advanced by members in support of the amendment: the need to have the afternoons for study; the unfamiliarity of living conditions (for example, lunching in a cafeteria); the inadequacy of members’ sitting allowances. As * Membership of the steering committee, as originally proposed and eventually

accepted, comprised three members chosen by the Working Committee, four members elected by the convention, and the Joint Chairmen and Deputy Chairman, ex officio. It is significant of the fair-minded attitude of the convention that: 1. Members of the Legislative Assembly (with one exception) declined nomination for election by the convention, in order to ensure that representatives of the additional members would be elected; 2. The four persons elected comprised two Samoan members who had formerly possessed European status (Magele and Tagaloa), a Samoan member who was a

retired public servant (Le Mamea Matatumua, of the Petaia family), and a European member (P. L. M. Morgan). All of those elected thus had some non-Samoan links, by descent or association. + After the 1964 elections Ulualofaiga Talamaivao was appointed a member

of Cabinet. His tactics at this stage were those of a man who was making a strong bid for popular support.

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 385

Faolotoi Momo’e, an elderly member who had formerly served as an associate judge and as a Faipule, remarked: One of the speakers referred to the question of our being distributed with copies of the Draft Constitution in print before we came to the Convention. That is true enough but if we refer to the Bible there is a very well-known story of Philip and the Abyssinian. When the Abyssinian

read the Bible Philip said to him, ‘Do you understand these things,’ and the Abyssinian replied “How can I understand all these things if I have not seen them’.?

The motion was carried by 103 votes to sixty-six. Once the convention had settled down to its main task, this suspicion

of Working Committee domination began to disappear. From the beginning members had shown respect for, and deference towards, the Joint Chairmen and the Deputy Chairman, on account of their traditional rank and the political positions that they occupied; and they had been generous in their recognition of the amount and quality of the committee’s work. These attitudes provided the basis for the growth of a sense of common purpose, similar to that possessed by

the Working Committee itself. On 13 September the convention unanimously approved a proposal from the steering committee for afternoon sittings. And, in practice, there was little or no opposition to evening sittings as well, when, from time to time, the Chair declared them to be necessary. A Cabinet decision approving increased allowances contributed to this change of attitude; but, more fundamentally, it reflected a common determination that the Prime Minister should be able to present the Constitution, as a sign of Samoa’s readiness

for independence, to the United Nations later in the year. The procedure adopted in the convention contributed substantially

to this result. The Joint Chairmen sat together on the rostrum but took turns in chairing the discussions. Aikman and I, as Constitutional

Advisers, sat on either side of them, when we were both present. Normally, each Article in the Draft Constitution was taken separately,

though where several successive Articles dealt with matters of a machinery character they were taken as a group. As each Article was reached, the Chairman would announce that it was before the house, and it would be read out in Samoan and English. A motion would then be moved from the floor for its adoption. Before debate was opened on the motion, an explanation would be given by one of the Constitutional Advisers. When Aikman was present, he explained Articles primarily of legal significance, and I dealt with those which touched

386 SAMOA MO SAMOA upon matters of political interest or which impinged upon Samoan custom. Aikman was able to be in Samoa, however, only for the early and closing stages, so that most of the explanations were given by me. Since these explanations came to occupy a central role in the proceedings, it seems necessary to make some statement about them.

My primary aim was the attainment of comprehensiveness and simplicity. Although only a small minority of the members was fully bilingual, a substantial number could comprehend an explanation in English provided it was simple enough.* To the extent that I made

myself understood in English, I reduced the unavoidable hazards of translation.| Contemporary illustrations, from Samoa or elsewhere, and references to Samoan history and tradition were frequently used to clarify difficult points. Although the explanations were factual, I did not entirely eschew—on some occasions—the role of advocate, since the rejection of a key provision would often have involved a far more radical recasting of the Constitution than members realized. On account of my long association with Samoan political development, of which members were aware, my personal involvement in the success

of the convention was unconcealed and became, in itself, a factor favourably affecting the acceptance of what was said.{ * Knowledge of English was considerably more widespread than it had been when I was living in Samoa ten years earlier; and its use by Samoans on formal occasions had gained acceptance. Although all but the European members and the Constitutional Advisers delivered their speeches in Samoan, certain phrases (for example, ‘Point of Order, Mr Chairman’) were normally spoken in English, and some Samoan members occasionally used English to give added precision to a particular statement. A tape recording of the Samoan original of speeches was kept; but the written

record of the proceedings of the convention is available only in English. In quoting, I have corrected one or two mistakes in tenses, etc., obviously made by interpreters or stenographers. In general, however, I have followed the official record. It should, therefore, be borne in mind that any uncouthness of phrasing may not be attributable to the speakers themselves. t These hazards related not only to the difficulty of translating many legal

concepts into Samoan, but also to the fact that the interpreters were often working to the limits of their physical capacity. The Working Committee had insisted—wisely, in my opinion—that the whole task of interpreting should be performed by three persons in whose ability it had full confidence. t The usefulness of these explanations both in shortening debate and in creating support for the Working Committee’s draft was made apparent by the terms of many speeches. For example, Leniu Fanene, one of the younger members and a successful bus proprietor, in moving to close debate on Article 15 (Freedom from discriminatory legislation), said: ... I did not in the first place understand the provision as set down, but on account of the explanations given by Dr. Davidson, I am now fully enlightened. .. . I therefore feel that everyone in this house has been fully enlightened .. . and with your

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 387

After the Adviser’s explanation, the Article before the convention was open for discussion on the existing motion for its adoption, or on any amendment that might subsequently be moved. Questions asked in the course of speeches would be answered by the Chairman or an Adviser. The debate would continue till a motion was moved,

and agreed to, that ‘the question be now put’. As the convention gained in experience, members became extremely skilful in judging when such a motion would be favoured by a substantial majority; and progress consequently was speeded up. The attitude adopted by members of the Working Committee also greatly contributed to the smoothness of proceedings. The committee

met frequently throughout the convention, to deal with drafting amendments and for other purposes. These meetings provided a formal opportunity for discussing progress. Moreover, the members—

who had worked so closely together for nearly two years—were in constant informal contact with one another (and with me). Likely opposition to the draft proposals was, if possible, considered in advance; actual opposition was discussed in terms of the tactics to be employed for overcoming it. Members were thus able to intervene in

debates, at the most effective time and on agreed lines, without appearing to seek a dominant role.

The amity of the convention cannot be explained, however, in terms of procedure and tactics alone. Equally important was the dignified and sophisticated Samoan convention of debate. Although arguments were pressed strongly, there were almost no intrusions of personalities, and no member had to be suspended. There were, of course, occasional flashes of invective. For example, when Tapusoa

Peni, an orator from Safotu, moved an amendment to the term of office of the Head of State, A’e’au Taulupo’o remarked that he opposed

the amendment mainly because the mover had failed to give any substantial reason for it. In replying, Tapusoa said: °. . . I wish to point out to my colleague A’e’au, that it is better to be smart than to try to be smart’. But even these rather urbane personal clashes were very rare. Most remarkable of all was the convention’s tolerance of P. L. M. Morgan, a New Zealander who had taken Samoan citizen-

ship. Morgan took up a great deal of the convention’s time by permission, therefore, Messrs. Chairmen, I would . . . ask that the question be now

(Convention, 1960, I, 226.)

Explanations given by Aikman tended to be rather different from mine. In particular, as an academic lawyer, he scorned the art of advocacy.

388 SAMOA MO SAMOA proposing innumerable amendments of little substance or interest, by disputing the Chairman’s rulings, and by demanding divisions when

votes on the voices appeared to leave no room for doubting the decision. The convention applauded when I likened him to a Siren seeking to lure the Samoan ship-of-state upon the rocks; but only rarely did it allow itself to be equally impolite. Above all, members who had been defeated on some issue that they regarded as of importance could be seen talking and joking with their successful opponents as soon as the sitting ended. They were always ready to acknowledge each other’s integrity.

Although practically every provision in the Draft Constitution and every draft resolution aroused some comment or question, certain types of subject were of particular concern to members. Among these, subjects that impinged upon the traditional social structure constituted by far the most important type. The relationship

of the tama diga to the office of Head of State; the lack of specific recognition of the important orator groups constituting Tiimua and Pule; the position of the alii and faipule of villages in relation to the law; the authority of the matai as head of the family—all these subjects

were debated earnestly and at length. There was also some controversy, though less than might have been expected, in regard to provisions affecting the power of the executive. A considerable number of members also showed a deep concern with the legal rights and freedoms of individuals. Technical provisions, on the contrary, such as those relating to the control of finance, were accepted

by the majority without a great deal of debate. Finally, there was a remarkable lack of tension between the Samoan and European members. The resolution recommending that citizens related to a Samoa “diga should be eligible to hold matai titles and to control customary land, regardless of their descent, was accepted without opposition. And, when certain of the European members proposed that persons on the individual voters’ roll should have greater representation than

the formula in the Draft Constitution would provide, they were supported, despite the weakness of their case, by a substantial minority of the Samoan members.* * See Convention, 1960, II, $02-9. H. J. Keil, M.L.A., moved that the provisions relating to the individual voters’ roll should ‘be referred back to the Working Committee for further consideration and... report .. . back to the Convention’. The motion was defeated by 120 to 41. Of the nine European members, five supported the motion, one voted against it, and three were absent (of whom one, at least, walked out to avoid having to vote).

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 3&9

One of these areas of debate—the protection of individual rights

and freedoms—was of particular concern to members with substantial experience outside the traditional culture. In this field, the most consistent speaker was Paitomaleifi Siaki. His first intervention was made during discussion of Article 5 (Right to life), when he moved

to abolish capital punishment by an amendment of the proposed wording. He received considerable support; and, before he finally withdrew his amendment, he obtained an assurance that the question would be brought before the Legislative Assembly for consideration as soon as possible. On Article 7 (Freedom from inhuman treatment) he also moved an amendment. This brief Article read: ‘No person shall

be subjected to torture or to inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment’. He proposed the addition of the word ‘cruel’ before the word ‘inhuman’. In explanation, he said: I would like . . . to try and draw the difference in the meanings of these words, ‘torture’ and ‘cruelty’. If I was to torture a person, I would have to contact him physically. ... But... I could be cruel by merely looking at him or speaking to him with a very loud or cruel voice... .

When one person is in a position of authority over another, he argued,

a look or a word can be as damaging as physical violence; and he suggested that when an abuse of authority occurred in a Samoan village it was usually of the former kind. The real purpose of his amendment was that of curbing harsh action by the ali’i and faipule towards the taulele’a. This motion was lost, partly, at least, because of suggested difficulty in the judicial interpretation of the word ‘cruel’. But its mover’s concern with the protection of the individual was undimmed by defeat. Paitomaleifi's most important motion, which had its origins in the same group of ideas and attitudes, was one proposing the introduction

of universal suffrage. He moved for the deletion from the Draft Constitution of provision for an individual voters’ roll (which would

become unnecessary) and for the passage of legislation to provide for the wider suffrage. The second part of this amendment read: That the Convention recommends that legislation should be prepared and passed by the Legislative Assembly to provide— (1) That every citizen of Western Samoa who has attained the age of twenty-one years and has been resident in a constituency for at least six months prior to his application for enrolment shall be entitled to have his name included in the roll of electors for that constituency;

390 SAMOA MO SAMOA (2) That only the holders of matai titles should be eligible for nomination as candidates or to sit and vote in the Legislative Assembly.*

The restriction of candidature to matai brought the proposal into line

with opinions that had previously been expressed by the Prime Minister, Fiamé Mata’afa, and others. Several members, including the Prime Minister, spoke in support of the motion. Paitomaleifi

himself contended that universal suffrage would not harm ‘our dignified customs and traditions’, that a growing proportion of untitled people possessed a good education and wide—often including

overseas—experience, and that Samoa would not be able to hold many of the most talented of its young people if they remained disfranchised. None the less, it was clear that a great many members intensely disliked the proposal. The sense of strain which for a time gripped the convention was dissipated by Malietoa, in a carefully diplomatic speech. He likened the education of the present generation

of Samoan children to the formation of a new crop of breadfruit. When the crop had reached maturity, a new stick would have to be cut

for it to be fully harvested. In the meantime, the old stick would suffice. The motion was lost on the voices. A majority of members was clearly opposed to it; but—of significance for the future—several

of those who had not raised their voices in its favour privately indicated that they would have supported it had provision existed for taking a decision by secret ballot. During the discussion of Part IV (The Executive) two amendments were moved with the intention of weakening the position of Cabinet in relation to the Legislative Assembly. Seiuli Iakopo, a member of a

well-known local European family who had himself taken Samoan status, moved that all members of Cabinet, and not only the Prime Minister, should be directly nominated by the assembly.® Seiuli and his seconder, Ulualofaiga Talaimaivao, both made it clear that they were concerned with protecting the authority of the assembly (of

which they were both members) and with perpetuating, in Talamaivao’s words, ‘the true customs and traditions . . . of this territory by deliberating in all matters . . . collectively’. The answer to this argument—the collective responsibility of Cabinet to Parliament and the need to ensure the loyalty of all Ministers to the Prime Minister— * Convention, 1960, II, 485. I assisted in the actual drafting of this motion. I took the line, whenever I was asked for help of this kind, that members’ motions should be considered on their substantive merits and should not be susceptible to criticism on the ground of defective drafting.

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960~2 391

was effectively stated by Tualaulelei Mauri, the Minister for Agriculture. And, after debate, the amendment was defeated by 132 to

thirty-one. Another amendment was moved by A. M. Gurau, a European member, who wished to remove the discretionary power given to the Head of State to dissolve the assembly after a government

defeat in the house.? This amendment gained rather more support but was defeated by 110 to fifty-one. The notable feature of the debate on both these motions was the widespread acceptance of the need for a strong executive. It has been said of India that the long experience of ‘irresponsible Governments’ made the framers of the Indian constitution unduly suspicious of governmental power.® In Samoa there had also been experience of ‘irresponsible’ government: the Mau, to

a large extent, had been a revolt against it and its consequences. Moreover, the Samoan concept of leadership is anti-authoritarian. However, respect for the Draft Constitution as a carefully considered document and actual experience of representative government combined largely to overcome the fears that might have been expected.

Questions concerning the relationship between the Draft Constitution and Samoan custom arose very early in the convention. In Part II (Fundamental Rights) we had, with dubious wisdom, defined

and used the term ‘State’, in order to provide a form of blanket reference to all bodies established by the Constitution or by law. This definition had no application to any other Part of the Draft Constitution, nor was the term ‘State’ employed elsewhere. This limitation,

however, was not immediately apparent to many members. And confusion was made worse by the need to use the much broader term ‘Mal3’ in the Samoan text. Why, it was asked, did not the malé include the ali’i and faipule? Why did it not include Tiimua and Pule? The first question was answered to the convention’s satisfaction.

The authority exercised by the ali’i and faipule was derived from custom, not from law. Its importance, as an instrument of social control, was fully recognized and the need to protect it was accepted. In addition, the organization of a formal system of local government,

such as had been recommended by the 1950 commission, should again be considered. A resolution along these lines was prepared by the Working Committee and adopted unanimously.® The second question was left for the time being unanswered. It remained in the minds of a small group of members from some of the Tiimua and Pule centres, as a source of continual anxiety. The position of the matai, as the head of his ’diga, arose in relation

392 SAMOA MO SAMOA to a number of subjects. It was the central issue in the debate on Paitomaleifi’s motion for the introduction of universal suffrage. It was also raised in connection with Article II (Freedom of religion). To a number of the older members complete religious freedom seemed to endanger the solidarity of the family. As Mata’utia Fetaui, of Aleipata, said: Mr Chairman, as we have seen . . . some families used to belong right from the beginning to one form of worship. . .. Now the Matai may still belong to that religion while the members of his family are taking up all sorts of different religions and what I am not quite clear on is whether the right of the Matais can apply in any matters of worship. . . .1°

To this the Chairman (Tupua Tamasese) replied: First of all, God made man and man was given freedom... . The question now is this—if God the Almighty has given man that freedom,

who are we?—and who is going to take that freedom off man? The question of our children and their belief in God all depends on the examples or the instructions that you and all of us as parents give to our own family. If we train them and instruct them according to the Word of God, they will follow that way. If not, then it will be otherwise... 1

This statement closed the debate, for it was generally accepted that, as Tamasese had also said, ‘Religion is not custom’. The position of the matai was the central issue in another matter of a very different kind. In the Working Committee several of us— in particular, Luamanuvae Va’aelua Eti (the young and progressivelyminded Minister for Health),* Amoa Tausilia and I—had reached the conclusion that the convention should be used as the occasion for launching a campaign for land reform. We proposed the institution of a system for granting leases, or occupational licences, over customary

land for the purpose of promoting agricultural development. After lengthy discussion, we persuaded the rest of the committee to share our view; and a Note and Resolution regarding the leasing of customary land

was adopted by the committee.!? This recommended that the subject * Luamanuvae was a great-grandson, on his mother’s side, of Va’aelua Petaia and himself held the Va’aelua title. His father had served the L.M.S. as a pastor in Papua for many years. He retired from politics in 1961, with the intention (later abandoned) of training to become a pastor. Subsequently, he served for a

time as a member of the Public Service Commission and visited the United

States. His career, of which the more important part may still lie ahead (he was born in 1924), illustrates the fact that the families of pastors are continuing to provide—as they did in the nineteenth century—some of Samoa’s most effective and best-informed leaders.

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 393

should be investigated by a select committee of the Legislative Assembly and that expert advice should be obtained on its legal and economic aspects. But, as the starting point for this investigation, it set out a series of suggestions as to how such a system might operate. The main purpose of the scheme was to give adequate security of tenure to the “progressive planter’, whether he was a matai or a taule‘ale’a. By doing this, it was argued, planters would be encouraged to extend and improve their plantings and to invest their savings in the development of their property. Moreover, it would be made easier for planters to borrow money for development on the security of their crops or other improvements. The proposals were carefully framed to preserve the pule of the matai and of the ali’i and faipule. None the less, they represented a striking break with Samoan tradition; and the recommendation that leases could be granted to taulele’a was bound, in particular, to be seen by some as a threat to the position of the matai. The Note and Resolution was read to the convention on 5 October. The debate on it occupied eight hours on the following day.* Prepara-

tions for it had been thorough on the part of its sponsors. My own lengthy opening statement, though framed as an exposition of the proposals, was delivered with the aim of arousing enthusiasm for them. And Luamanuvae, Amoa and several other members of the Working

Committee had agreed to be ready to speak at appropriate intervals, so as to break any succession of critical speeches. In this way it was hoped to create the impression that the resolution had more widespread support than was actually the case. In fact, there was a great deal of vigorous support from members of

the convention. Magele Ate, for example, drew attention to the intensive development that had followed the leasing of land by Reparation Estates to small-holders and suggested that a similar development might be expected generally if the proposals were acted upon.18 And Luafalealo Pesa emphasized the existing disabilities of the taulele’a.

Some of the Ali’i and Faipule are enterprising enough to allow their taulele’a to cultivate and develop the land, whereas others, I can safely say, in most communities, the Alii and Faipule are holding on to that very title and therefore the taulele’a are just walking around as they have

no land to cultivate. ... * Members’ speeches, throughout the convention, were limited to ten minutes, so it will be realized that there were many participants on this occasion. My own Opening statement occupied more than twice that time.

394 SAMOA MO SAMOA But with the present recommendations, I can see that the taulele’a, starting from today, would be now placed in a much more favourable position, if this was carried and put into legislation. That means the taulele’a will have something to look forward to... . Those are the points .. . on which I would like to give my support to this recommendation... .14

Many other members supported the proposals, some with unqualified enthusiasm, others with an underlying anxiety that the position of the matai might be impaired. But there was considerable opposition. This was voiced in its most

sophisticated form by Toluono Lama, who had been an associate member of the local government commission, in 1950, and, later, a member of the local government board. Toluono held a title in the Pule centre of Palauli, where, in the time of the Mau, traditionalist Opposition to the encroachments of government had been more highly organized than in any other part of Samoa. Though he was a man of his times, appreciative of the opportunities of the modern world, he viewed with anxiety any change that might weaken the hold of custom. He explained how, under the traditional social system, a man could move from one part of Samoa to another and always be given land to cultivate by a matai to whom he was related. It is the normal custom of our people that if an untitled person serves and renders service to his matai in Upolu and at a later time he wishes to visit and live with other relatives in Savai’i, he may freely do so without any hindrance whatever, but if we are to institute this leasehold system,

it will then appear as if my own relatives will not be my own people, but will be regarded as people not related to me.

Many other countries faced the problem of a landless proletariat. Why should Samoa seek to emulate them? Despite his respect for Samoan custom and his admiration for the satisfying social relationships which

it created when authority was not abused, Toluono did not rule out

the possibility that circumstances might make some change unavoidable. Instead, he expressed doubt “as to the necessity to provide at this early stage for something which is considered to be a domestic

matter and which we can settle within our own territory’. Why should a decision be asked for, he implied, before the Constitution was presented to the United Nations? He, therefore, moved as an amend-

ment ‘that the matter be referred back to the Working Committee for further consideration’.

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 395

Tulunono’s attitude was not an unreasonable one; and he convinced

many members who were far from being extreme conservatives of its correctness. The real answer to it was that a reform such as that which was proposed could not be carried out easily or quickly and

that the initiation of it should not, therefore, be delayed. Moreover, the members of the convention had already been conditioned by their work to the taking of long-term views, so that they were likely to be unusually receptive to such a radical proposal. Several members of the Working Committee contended that to advocate delay was, in reality, to advocate doing nothing. They pointed to the rapid rate of population increase and to the financial needs of an independent Samoa. As Amoa Tausilia said: ... the Sun of authority, controlled from the outside, is now setting— the new Sun is rising and that is YOU, the people of Samoa—now is the

time for you to stand up. Stand up! How can the Government run its affairs without money?!®

And the source of money, he said, was the land. The amendment was finally defeated by ninety-four to sixty-eight. The Note and Resolution was agreed to by ninety-two to seventy.

The most important of all the topics that impinged upon the traditional social structure were those relating to the office of Head of State. Discussion of this subject occupied the convention for a fortnight. Before it began Tupua Tamasese and Malietoa withdrew and Fiamé Mata’afa took the chair. In an opening statement he drew the attention of members to the need for clear and unimpassioned consideration of the draft proposals. . .. we must deal and deliberate on the matter with a united mind and without partiality in any form whatsoever, because of the fact that if we are united we shall stand and if divided we shall fall... . Should your opinion be uncertain and indefinite on this very important matter, I

would then say that I feel pity for our country in times to come.... While considering it Article by Article, you will undoubtedly notice the various reasons why the Working Committee decided on the present wording. ... Numerous opinions and views have been made and given on this very important matter, however it was felt that we must hurt in

some respect so as to arrive at a peaceful and sound settlement. .. . ... if we are to contend with any partial intention or attitude whatever, where should we land?!”

He explained that he had chosen to enter politics as Fiamé, not as the

396 SAMOA MO SAMOA holder of the tama’diga title of Mata’afa, and not with any intention of seeking for himself the position of Head of State. ‘I now therefore declare before the Constitutional Convention,’ he said, ‘that Iam one of the servants of the people. . . . I come [before you] with a clear heart and the intention merely to serve the people of Samoa to the best of my ability. . . .” He was followed by Tuimaleali’ifano who explained that, unlike the Prime Minister, he was present in his capacity as a tama’diga and he therefore proposed to withdraw: *... may God be with the Convention’, he concluded, ‘while I withdraw and pray for the success of your deliberations’.1* At this stage the Rules of Procedure were suspended, in order that an orator of Tumua and Pule could make a formal reply to the speeches by the two tama diga. During the discussion of the fifteen Articles contained in Part III (The Head of State), members generally maintained the high level of seriousness set by the opening speeches. A great many expressed

support for the provisions as they stood, on the ground that the Working Committee had made an exhaustive study of all the intricacies of an extremely complex problem and had finally reached a workable solution. Most of the difficulties that the committee had

considered were traversed, however, in the course of the lengthy debate; and a large number of amendments was moved. Some of these were of a relatively trivial kind proposing, for example, an increase or decrease in the term of office of future Heads of State; but others, of a more fundamental character, would have required a recasting of the whole of Part III, if they had been agreed to. In fact, all amendments in both categories were defeated.

The first important amendment was one moved by Telea Fasi, of Fale’ula, the holder of a title closely associated with Sa Malietoa.1® This proposed that the initial arrangement for the joint holding of the office of Head of State by two persons should continue ‘from the present time until the end of the world’.?° He contended that there was a danger of future unrest unless the Malietoa and Tiipua families were always associated with government at its highest level. This old and familiar argument found considerable support. It brought the members of the Working Committee into action, mainly by way of raising points of order. For example, when one member claimed to know the feeling of ‘the people of this Territory’, Pilia’e Iuliano rose and said: A point of order, Mr Chairman. I would like to draw the attention of the Hon. Member now taking the floor that he must confine his remarks

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 397 to his own personal opinion but not refer in a general way ... [to]... the opinion held by the general public . . . because such remarks would tend to mislead the minds of Hon. Members. . . .?4

One member of the committee, “Anapu Solofa, the Minister for Justice, who was deeply respected by the convention for his sensitive and informed regard for custom, was asked by some of his colleagues

to make a general rebuttal of Telea’s argument. He explained the careful consideration that had been given to the problem by the committee. He pointed to the close connections between ‘the four royal lines’. If the Hon. Malietoa would carry out the duties of Head of State for a certain period then let it be remembered that he represents Tuiatua, Tuiaana and Tupua Tamasese. If on the other hand the position of Head of State is to be occupied by the Hon. Mataafa representing Tuiatua, in future years, let it be remembered that he too represents Malietoa, Tamasese and Tuiaana.*

The amendment was finally lost on the voices, without a division being called for. Another significant amendment was moved by members from two of the political centres of Pule: Fiso Fusi, of Palauli, and Tapusoa Peni,

of Safotu. They proposed that representatives of Tiimua and Pule should be added to the Legislative Assembly for the purpose of carrying

out the election of a Head of State. It was defeated by 126 votes to thirty-seven.?2

The most substantially supported of all amendments was one, moved by Ulualofaiga Talamaivao, to delete Article 25, which provided for the constitution of the Council of Deputies.2* The case for establishing this body, rather than making simpler provision for the performance of the duties of the Head of State during his absence or incapacity, lay in the need to ensure that all the tama’diga and, through them, their families were suitably associated with the formal political structure. A possible consequence of the proposal, however, * Convention, 1960, I, 260-1. ’Anapu referred to Tuimaleali’ifano as Tuia’ana,

thus implying that he was the person upon whom the title, which was not formally held by anyone, would be conferred if an election to it were made. A similar implication was contained in the speeches of other members during the course of the convention. In fact, Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole also had strong claims and had often been referred to as Tuia’ana in the past. It is significant of the change that has occurred in Samoan society that casual references to claims to the great titles can be made without serious political harm being done.

398 SAMOA MO SAMOA was the reduction of elections to the office of Head of State to a level of mere formality. For so long as eligibility should be restricted to the tama diga, the only candidates for the office (apart from any tama diga who had declined membership of the council) would be the Head of State himself and the members of the Council of Deputies. By bringing these persons together, as the holders of dignified official appointments, it had been made not unlikely that they would reach agreement

that only one of their number should accept nomination for a particular term. To some members, this possibility seemed a highly desirable one, since it would avoid an open contest in which strong feelings might be aroused; but to others, such as Talamaivao, it represented an attack on the powers of ‘the representatives of the people’. “The Tama-a-Aiga themselves’, he said, “would dominate the

whole structure of the Independent State of Western Samoa.’ Their domination, he suggested, was bound to lead to pressure for financial support of the Council of Deputies on a scale that the country could ill afford. In short, the proposal was cumbrous, expensive and unnecessary. The amendment appealed to several groups of members. Many of those associated with Tiimua and Pule supported it because they thought too much was being done for the tama Giga and too little

for them. Many progressively minded members supported it on the grounds advanced by Talamaivao. When the motion was put, the vote on the voices gave no decision. ‘It appears to be equal, to my hearing’, the Deputy Chairman declared, ‘and it is decided therefore that we take a division.” On the division, the motion was defeated by eighty-eight to seventy-one. Other amendments moved from the floor were defeated by a much

larger margin. But this adoption without change of the carefully articulated provisions in the Draft Constitution did not represent merely a negative success for the convention. It meant, on the contrary, that it had been able to discuss exhaustively the most difficult problem

in Samoan politics and to endorse, at the end with unanimity, a full solution of it. Despite the vigour of debate, personal and political relationships had remained unimpaired. When the Joint Chairmen returned, it was a member who had supported strongly all the more important defeated amendments, Toluono Lama, who welcomed them on behalf of the convention. “The frankness in our discussions did not spare any point’, he said, “we went fully into all our dis-

cussion. . . . I now wish to say: thank you, Tupua Tamasese and Malietoa Tanumafili I, for the prayers that you said in your absence. 4

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 399

The remaining important debate on a matter of Samoan custom— the recognition of Tamua and Pule—was held towards the end of the convention. The motion, moved by Toluono Lama, asked that the words “Tiimua and Pule’ should be included in the definition of the State and that there should be special representation of Tiimua and Pule in the Legislative Assembly. Tuluono explained that the precise wording of the motion did not greatly matter; he was concerned with a question of principle. At a time when the educational background of the young was changing, ‘we must ensure’, he said, ‘that nothing as far as the law is concerned in future will supersede our recognized customs and traditions’.?°

Toluono moved his motion at 2 p.m. on 10 October; the ensuing debate lasted, with a meal break, till 11.30 p.m. that evening. As the representatives from the centres of Tiimua and Pule enlarged on the merits of the motion, the atmosphere of the convention became tense. But it was an atmosphere also tinged with a nostalgic regret.* Ever since Samoa’s entry into the European age, the influence of Timua and Pule had been gradually declining. The great orators who could shake the Samoan polity to its foundations by their tenacity and skill in political negotiations were now figures of distant memory or of tradition. (Autagavai'a Siaupiu, who had organized Palauli on behalf of the Mau, had been, perhaps, the last of them.) The titles that they had held were now borne by very different men. Some of these, like the spokesman for Safotulafai, Tuilagi Pao, a former Apia taxi-driver, lacked mastery of the allusive language of Samoan oratory. Others, like Pilia’e, had recognized the need for the adoption of new political methods and alignments. Toluono’s concluding remarks, in replying to the debate, were troubled ones: he asked that no decision should be taken, that Timua and Pule should be given time to prepare a different motion. Like most—perhaps all—of the members, he knew what the result of a vote would be. The Chairman explained that the Rules of

Procedure did not permit him to agree to Toluono’s request. The motion was lost on the voices.

Towards the end, the convention was working at high pressure, disposing of constitutional provisions with the efficiency of a well regulated machine. The debate on Toluono’s motion was not the only occasion of a late sitting: on the preceding day the convention had * Tamua and Pule did not have special representation; but, since each constituency had four members in the convention (except for a few cases, where vacancies had occurred), they were well represented, in practice.

400 SAMOA MO SAMOA sat till midnight. On 13 and 14 October the future conduct of external relations was discussed, in the presence of the New Zealand Deputy

Secretary of External Affairs, F. H. Corner. On the latter day the convention also dealt with the last batch of amendments to clear up inconsistencies or obscurities of drafting and adopted the Preamble. On 28 October, when the corrected draft had been printed in both Samoan and English, the convention held its final meeting. A motion

was moved and agreed to for the adoption and enactment of the Constitution of the Independent State of Western Samoa; and all members, except P. L. M. Morgan (who declined), signed their names to the document in evidence of their assent and of the historic character of the occasion.* After the adoption of the Constitution, one further political act was

performed by the convention. A resolution had previously been drafted, and discussed, setting out the convention’s views on the future international status and external relations of Western Samoa. Final decisions on matters of external relations would not be taken till

independence had been attained; but it was believed, by both the Samoan and New Zealand governments, that negotiations for the termination of trusteeship would be facilitated if a clear indication could be given to the United Nations of Samoan wishes and expectations. At this stage therefore—when the convention had completed its task of giving the future state a constitution—the resolution was formally adopted. It read: The Constitutional Convention, in this, its final meeting —

1. Reaffirms the profound desire of the People of Western Samoa that Western Samoa should become an Independent State and expresses the hope the General Assembly of the United Nations will, in its current Session, agree to institute the procedure necessary for the termination of the Trusteeship Agreement. 2. Affirms its belief that, in view of its adoption of a Constitution for the Independent State of Western Samoa and of the transfer in October

1959 of the functions of the High Commissioner and Executive Council to the Council of State and Cabinet, no reasonable doubts can be held as to the readiness of Western Samoa for independence. 3. Welcomes the clear and friendly understanding between the Governments of Western Samoa and New Zealand, whereby both Govern* The Constitution was to ‘come into force on the day approved by the General Assembly of the United Nations as the date of the termination of the Trusteeship Agreement...’ (Article 113).

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 401 ments agree that the sovereignty of Western Samoa should be complete and unqualified and that the two countries should continue to work together, on terms agreeable to both Governments. 4. Welcomes the offer of the Government of New Zealand to provide assistance to the Independent State of Western Samoa. 5. Recommends: (a) That the framework of future co-operation between New Zealand and the Independent State of Western Samoa should be laid down in a Treaty of Friendship between the two sovereign states to be signed after Independence Day. (b) That, in particular, the Government of the Independent State of Western Samoa should request the Government of New Zealand to afford— (i) administrative and technical assistance;

(ii) assistance in carrying out its external affairs in such a manner as will not detract from the responsibility of the Government of the Independent State of Western Samoa to formulate its own international policy.Ӣ

In the period between 16 August, when the convention first assembled, and 28 October, the whole of the Draft Constitution and a

large number of resolutions recommending necessary changes in ordinary legislation and in administrative practice, or dealing with other matters, such as the investigation of land policy, had been considered. Not one of the Working Committee’s proposals had been

changed by a motion from the floor of the house. But this did not mean that the convention had been, in any way, a supine body. To a large extent, the acceptance of the provisions in the Draft Constitution

and of the resolutions was a result of the thoroughness of the committee’s own work, both in the preparatory stage and during the convention itself. But, to some extent, also, it reflected the operation of factors of a different order. Members felt a deference for the three men who had chaired its meetings, since they were both tama’diga and the country’s accepted political leaders; and some of them were reluctant to carry their opposition to the point of voting against proposals

that they believed the Joint Chairmen and Deputy Chairman supported. Some members, too, felt diffident about backing their personal

opinions on complex issues that were novel to them. The votes in favour of the committee’s proposals probably included a number which

derived from acceptance of its superior knowledge, rather than from the personal conviction of the voters. But, above all, the convention

402 SAMOA MO SAMOA was motivated by a desire to give the country a constitution and thus prepare it for its forthcoming independence.

IN December the Prime Minister travelled to New York to join the

New Zealand delegation to the fifteenth session of the General Assembly of the United Nations. I accompanied him as adviser. The year 1960 had been a climactic one in the history of colonial liberation. During the course of it, seventeen newly independent states had been admitted to the United Nations, and the issue of terminating colonial

rule wherever it remained had been taken up with passion in the plenary session of the General Assembly. The task of the New Zealand delegation was thus one, not of obtaining United Nations’ agreement

to Samoan independence, but of ensuring that the arrangements agreed on were in line with the wishes of the New Zealand and Samoan governments.

On 9 December the Fourth Committee began its consideration of the “question of the future of Western Samoa’. F. H. Corner explained

that the New Zealand government was ‘firmly committed to the proposition that Western Samoa should attain unqualified independence ... on I January 1962’ and asked the committee to consider what steps needed to be taken before a formal request was made for the termination of the trusteeship agreement. He was followed by Fiamé Mata’afa. Largely for tactical reasons—to suggest something

of the Samoans’ pride in their own culture—the Prime Minister spoke in Samoan, although his speech had been prepared in English and copies of it in its original form had been handed to the interpreters.

His tone was that of a committed, but unembittered, nationalist. The Samoan people have never wavered in their desire for independence. In earlier years—under the Germans, and then under New Zealand—the Samoan will to be free led to conflict and disagreement. In more recent years, Samoan aspirations have been fully accepted by the New Zealand

Government. But, although our relations with New Zealand are—and are likely to remain—close and friendly, we believe that the time has come for us to attain the status of an independent nation.

Fiamé described the procedure that had been followed in preparing for independence, emphasizing the representative character of the Constitutional Convention and the acceptance of the Constitution by all but one of its members. He referred, as Corner had also done,

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 403

to the development of thinking on the subject of external relations: Samoa would remain completely free to pursue its own external policies, but the New Zealand government had ‘expressed its willingness to consider an arrangement by which New Zealand would give assistance in the conduct of those matters of external relations in respect

of which the Government of Western Samoa felt unable to act fully for itself for the time being’. He said that his government was prepared to stand by the undertaking that a plebiscite should be held, under universal suffrage, to ascertain the opinions of the people. He suggested,

however, that the committee might decide that a plebiscite was unnecessary, in view of the Constitutional Convention's virtually unanimous acceptance of the Constitution and of the decision that Samoa should exercise full control of its external relations. He quoted

a resolution adopted by the convention in which the attainment of independence was contrasted with the continuance of ‘foreign rule’.* Is the alternative to independence to be considered, then, as the indefinite maintenance of the present situation which was devised essentially as a

stage in our steady development towards independence? Or is it to be considered as a step backwards towards the type of government which we possessed at some period in the past? Further, what would one suppose to be in the mind of a voter who cast his vote against independence? One could not really answer that question. In other words, the holding of a plebiscite on the question of a Samoan people’s attitude towards inde-

pendence makes sense only on the assumption that the people want independence and will cast their votes in favour of it. That, of course, is what will happen if a plebiscite is held.

The ensuing debate, though it included criticisms both of New Zealand and of Samoa, was generally friendly and relaxed. The subject was not one out of which much political capital could be made. Moreover, New Zealand, unlike some other countries responsible for

dependent territories, had always stood well with the Fourth Committee and had maintained fruitful contacts with members of most delegations. Answers were prepared for the Prime Minister's final address (which he delivered in English) to all the questions that it was * ‘The Convention recommends: That the Hon. Prime Minister inform the General Assembly of the United Nations that Western Samoa wishes only one question to be asked in the Plebiscite, namely— “To you agree that Western Samoa should be independent or under foreign rule?” ’ (Resolutions, 15).

404 SAMOA MO SAMOA thought might be raised. Some of them, including one explaining Samoa’s decision (not yet made public) to remain outside the United Nations, did not have to be used. But feeling in the committee was overwhelmingly in favour of the conduct of a plebiscite. A resolution,

drafted in consultation with the New Zealand delegation, was sponsored by a large and varied group of nations: Argentina, the Federation of Malaya, Ghana, India, Iran, Iraq, Nigeria, Sudan, the United Arab Republic and the United Kingdom. Following a preamble, which referred to preparations for Samoan independence, it recommended that a plebiscite should be held in May 1961. In this, two questions would be asked: 1. Do you agree with the constitution adopted by the Constitutional Convention on 28 October 1960? 2. Do you agree that on 1 January 1962 Western Samoa should become an independent state on the basis of that constitution?

The Soviet Union and a small number of other members abstained from voting on the resolution as a whole, because they objected to passages in the preamble; but they indicated their support of the operative clauses by asking for separate votes on them. The bulk of the committee voted in favour. Passage in the plenary session was equally decisive.??

A month after the Prime Minister’s return to Samoa, a general election was held to the Legislative Assembly. This was conducted under the law of 1957; but, in accordance with the transitional provisions of the Constitution, the new assembly was to continue in being after Independence Day.?® In eighteen Samoan constituencies, as compared with ten in 1957, members were elected by secret ballot. In the remaining twenty-three, traditional methods of consultation produced agreement on a single nomination. On the whole, the calibre of the successful candidates was higher than that of their predecessors. More members owed their success to personal ability and fewer to the old practice of rotating office among nominees of the different sections of the constituency. Among the defeated candidates was Tualaulelei Mauri, the Minister for Agriculture.* Since his election to the former Legislative Council in 1942, he had been one of the dominant figures * Tualaulelei died later in the year. His failure to become Prime Minister had greatly disappointed him; and his loss of his seat in the assembly just before the attainment of the objective for which he had worked so long and skilfully had been a bitter blow to him.

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960~2 405

in Samoan public life. But he had made enemies, as well as friends. His defeat was a result of personal and local disputes, not of declining support for the government. When the assembly met, It nominated

Fiamé Mata’afa again for the office of Prime Minister. (On this occasion no rival had stood against him.) He, in turn, included the former Ministers who remained members of the assembly in his new Cabinet. In place of Tualaulelet and of Eugene Paul and Luamanuvae Eti, both of whom had retired from politics, he chose G. F. D. Betham, Tufuga Fatu and Asiata Lagolago, all of whom were members of the

Working Committee on Self-Government. On the verge of independence, Samoa showed no sign of wishing to replace its established leaders.

Administrative preparations for the plebiscite had begun in 1960,

in anticipation of the United Nations decision. Nominally these were the responsibility of New Zealand, as the administering authority under the trusteeship agreement; but much of the detailed work had to be done by the officers of the Samoan government responsible for the conduct of elections. Political preparations did not begin till after

the Prime Minister’s return from New York. The wording of the questions that were to be asked created certain difficulties. Would voters think that a negative answer to the first question—on the Constitution—might precipitate the making of some particular change? For example, would ‘progressives’ feel that such a vote might assist the attainment of universal suffrage or the supporters of Tamua and Pule that it might help them to attain the constitutional recognition

that they had been denied by the convention? The Samoan government had to make it clear that the only likely result of the recording ofa substantial negative vote in respect of either question would be a delay

in the attainment of independence. It attempted to do this mainly through the impartial dissemination of information. The Samoan text of the Constitution was printed in the government paper, the Savali; use was made of the broadcasting service; and a special booklet

was published, in Samoan and English, explaining the purpose and significance of the plebiscite and giving a simplified version of the Constitution.?° In the villages, some informal canvassing for a ‘yes’ vote was done

by members of the Legislative Assembly and others; and attempts were made to persuade voters to accept the decision reached by the dominant local matai. Shortly before the plebiscite, Tupua Tamasese, Fiameé and other leaders delivered broadcast addresses, in which they O

406 SAMOA MO SAMOA not only stated the case for the Constitution and for independence but also suggested that casting a negative vote would be an act of treachery.

The plebiscite was held on 9 May, under the supervision of a United Nations Plebiscite Commissioner. Just under 38,000 people cast their votes. To the first question—‘Do you agree with the Constitution adopted by the Constitutional Convention on 28 October 1960? —eighty-three per cent. voted ‘yes’, thirteen per cent. voted ‘no’ and four per cent. voted informally. For the second question—‘Do you

agree that on 1 January 1962 Western Samoa should become an independent state on the basis of that Constitution?’—the proportions were seventy-nine per cent. ‘yes’, thirteen per cent. ‘no’ and eight per

cent. informal. The Samoan people thus endorsed both the Constitution and the prospective termination of trusteeship by overwhelming majorities.*

The number of negative votes was, however, a not insubstantial one. Its distribution, as between different polling booths, was very uneven; but, at most booths, the proportion of negative answers to both questions was fairly similar.8° The same group of voters seems, therefore, to have expressed opposition both to the Constitution and to the attainment of independence. In a majority of Samoan villages the proportion of these votes was well below the over-all average. Apart from Malie and Saleaula, the centres of Timua and Pule conformed fairly closely to this general picture. Even Lufilufi, where a spokesman had earlier threatened solid opposition because of the non-recognition of Tiimua and Pule, was no exception. On the other hand, at polling * The actual figures were:

Question I: yes 31,426

no 4,909 informal 1,562

Question 2: yes 29,862

no 5,108

informal 2,907

Total votes cast: 37,897 A voter who abstained from voting on one question, while casting a valid vote on the other, had his abstention recorded as an informal vote. This probably

explains the higher number of informal votes recorded against the second question.

For the official count by the Chief Returning Officer, see Samoa Bulletin, 26 May 1961.

For the report by the United Nations Plebiscite Commissioner, see: ‘Organization, Conduct and Result of the Plebiscite in Western Samoa’ (United Nations, Trusteeship Council, T/1564, 23 June 1961).

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 407

booths where a substantial proportion of the voters would have been local Europeans—some in the Apia town area and those at Lotopa and Aleisa—negative answers represented between twenty and thirty-five per cent. of valid votes. The most striking of the negative votes recorded in Samoan villages were those at Lotofaga, in Safata, Malie, in Sagaga,

and Vaisala, Sataua, and Papa, in Vaisigano. Lotofaga—alone in the

whole of Samoa—recorded a majority against independence and only a slight majority in favour of the Constitution. Malie recorded a forty-seven per cent. vote against the Constitution and one of thirtytwo per cent. against independence. The combined figures for Vaisala,

Sataua and Papa showed a negative vote of forty per cent. to both questions. At Saleaula, and at Falealupo, the proportion of negative votes was only a little lower.

The large vote against the Constitution at Malie reflected the opposition of a section of the Malietoa family to the future tenure of the office of Head of State by one man. These voters believed that a representative of Sa Malietoa should always be associated with it.

Elsewhere, the negative vote, though it was often organized by particular individuals or families, reflected anxieties of a different kind.

In Vaisigano, between Vaisala and Falealupo, prosperous cocoa planters, such as the members of the Va’ai family, feared that independence would have detrimental effects upon the country’s economy; and this fear was shared by local Europeans round Apia. Many Europeans, it seems, also feared that their personal position might worsen

and that their opportunity of settling in New Zealand might be restricted. Some younger Samoans voting in Apia—employees of government and commercial firms—may have voted ‘no’ because universal suffrage was not guaranteed by the Constitution. The factors that appear to have influenced these various groups of voters were not ones of major—or, in most cases, of lasting—political significance. Voters in many parts of the country may also have been

affected by a rumour that New Zealand aid would cease on the attainment of independence. This, too, was not a factor of lasting importance, since the rumour was without foundation (and was firmly denied, at the time, by the High Commissioner). The votes cast against the Constitution and against independence did not there-

fore give cause for anxiety as to the future stability of the Samoan state.

At the end of July I visited Samoa in the hope that I could expedite some of the more important legislative and administrative changes

408 SAMOA MO SAMOA that needed to be made before Independence Day. Nothing effective

had been done, in particular, towards implementing the complex series of proposals that would reorganize the electoral system, change the basis of eligibility to hold matuai titles and the pule over customary land, and finally eliminate the legal distinction between Samoans and Europeans. This was disappointing. It created a risk that the impetus to reform, which had been carefully nurtured during the preceding two years, would be dissipated by the effluxion of time. At the constitutional level, it threatened to make a premature dissolution of the Legislative Assembly impossible by leaving the country without any

electoral law.* But the tardiness in official action was perhaps inevitable. Cabinet Ministers and senior public servants had to attend to

work that had been delayed by the hectic period of constitutionmaking. They had to consider procedures for handling the administrative aspects of Samoa’s future relations with the outside world. They,

and the members of the Legislative Assembly, had to handle a programme of legislation designed to replace a substantial part of the

New Zealand law in force in the territory.f Moreover, after the adoption of the Constitution and the successful conduct of the plebiscite, there seemed to have been a slight reduction in the tempo of governmental activity. But, if this were so, it was a result of the strain to which those in positions of responsibility had previously been exposed, not of a decline in the sense of responsibility. More disturbing than the gaps in the preparations for independence

was the premature action that had been taken to give effect to the proposal for granting agricultural leases over customary land. New Zealanders in positions of influence, well informed and well disposed towards Samoa, had been heartened by the convention’s adoption of the Working Committee's resolution. They must have realized that it * Article 114 of the Constitution provided that: Subject to the provisions of this Constitution—

(a) the existing law shall, until repealed by Act, continue in force on and after Independence Day;... Since the Constitution created a Legislative Assembly differing in composition and in other ways from that established under the Samoa Amendment Act, 1957, the existing electoral law was invalidated by ‘the provisions of this Constitution’. + Between 14 Feb. and 21 Dec. 1961 thirty-one Ordinances were passed by the Legislative Assembly. Seven of these replaced parts of the Samoa Act, 1921,

and its amendments. Some replaced New Zealand orders in council. And several—such as the Head of State Ordinance—dealt with subjects that had been created by the impending constitutional changes.

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 409

dealt, in a more sophisticated way, with one of the problems that Richardson had tried to solve, and which had contributed to his downfall, over thirty years before. But they failed to understand that the convention’s vote was a result of careful political organizing, as much as of change in Samoan opinion. They persuaded the New Zealand government to offer the services of a legal officer experienced in Maori land problems to assist in the drafting of the necessary legislation. In response to this offer, the Prime Minister moved for the appointment of a select committee of the Legislative Assembly. In my own mind, I had regarded the convention’s endorsement of the resolution as an action of great importance, but only as a preliminary step in a lengthy programme of study, discussion and decision. The recommendation that expert advice should be obtained on the economic, as well as the legal, aspects of the problem related to an essential part of this programme. It had been intended that the economic adviser should visit the villages, much as the local government commission had done in 1950. During these visits, he would both seek local opinion and obtain information as to the actual restraints placed on efficient land use by the unimpeded operation of custom. At the same time, he would try to create a popular demand for land reform. As a result, it was hoped, the preparation of proposals more sensitively in touch with opinion and more closely related to needs

than those of the Working Committee would be facilitated. The provision of a law draftsman before this preliminary work had been done dealt an almost fatal blow to the whole proposal. I attended two of the early meetings of the select committee. Members showed their concern to be with the preservation of custom, rather than with the

need for economic growth. Neither of the two men who alone possessed the enthusiasm, knowledge and political standing that might have changed their opinions was present—Luamanuvae, because he had retired from political life; and Amoa, because he had been elected Speaker of the assembly. But it was clear that the com-

mittee would not, for some time, carry its work to a conclusion. Samoan interest was concentrated upon the final stages of the transition to independence.

In October the Prime Minister again joined the New Zealand delegation to the United Nations and addressed the Fourth Committee in support of the request for the termination of the trusteeship agree-

410 SAMOA MO SAMOA ment. On this occasion, with all the preparatory work completed, the debate was wholly formal and eulogistic.®

At midnight on 31 December church bells throughout Samoa rang out to mark the birth of a nation which had declared, in the Preamble

to its Constitution, that it was ‘based on Christian principles and Samoan custom and tradition’. Next morning, at Mulinu’u, in the presence of respresentatives of New Zealand (including the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition), of the member states of the South Pacific Commission, of Germany and of neighbouring Pacific countries, the New Zealand flag was lowered for the last time and the Samoan flag raised to fly, in future, alone. The first session of the Legislative Assembly of the Independent State of Western Samoa was opened by the Head of State. This was the beginning of a week of rejoicing and celebration. In terms of national pride, the attainment of independence marked

the realization of an objective for which Samoans had worked for many years. In terms of the political development of the Pacific Islands region, it marked the opening of a new era, since Western Samoa was the first Pacific territory to have emerged from a period of colonial rule and the first, not excluding Tonga, to possess full control of its external relations, as well as of its internal affairs. But, in

terms of day-to-day politics, the change was not an abrupt one. The joint holders of the office of Head of State had already, as Fautua, been

performing duties similar to many of those that were now their responsibility. The Cabinet, since 1959, had controlled the executive

government. And relations between the Samoans and expatriate officials were far more relaxed than they had been in earlier years, so that there was a willingness, on the part of the Samoans, to retain the services of New Zealanders and, on the part of the latter, a willingness to serve Samoa till qualified local candidates were available to replace

them. As the Prime Minister had told the Fourth Committee in 1960:

Ours should be one of the smoothest of transitions from trusteeship to independence. Helped by our gradual assumption of political responsibility over the past 14 years, and by our friendly cooperation with New Zealand, we should experience little strain or difficulty when the moment for independence comes. For that reason I would suggest that you should not look for any very spectacular or revolutionary change in our way of doing things when we become independent. Such revolutionary changes have been made unnecessary both by the strength of our tradition and

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 AII the good fortune of our circumstances. I would suggest, instead, that you

should be satisfied that, rooted in tradition and responding to the invigorating influences of the modern world, the Independent State of Western Samoa will grow and flourish to become an ornament—if only a minor one—to the world community.

Epilogue

I3 THE INDEPENDENT STATE OF WESTERN SAMOA HE case for independence rests on two basic premises: that the “T peovte of a country desire to control their own affairs and that they possess the capacity to do so. Where these premises are applicable,

independence provides the firmest foundation upon which to build an effective government. The size of a country is only marginally relevant to its capacity to control its own affairs, though it is a major determinant of the character of its relations with the rest of the world. Yet Western Samoa, with a population of 115,000, was one of the first of the ‘smaller territories’ to attain full sovereignty.* In prospect, the plan for Samoan independ-

ence had therefore aroused some anxiety overseas, particularly in British official circles. But, since its realization, it has been widely referred to as an example that could usefully be followed elsewhere. Before independence the Samoans had given careful thought to their country’s future position as a member of the community of nations. They had decided not to establish any defence forces, since they would not possess the strength to repel any likely aggressor. They had decided not to seek membership of the Commonwealth (for the time being, at least), primarily because they feared that Samoa’s

admission would be opposed by some of its members. They had decided not to join the United Nations. The Working Committee had examined the cost of maintaining minimal representation in that organization. “No one’, it was said, “would heed our opinions on

disarmament or the Berlin situation. We could spend the money more usefully on development at home.’ * The Census taken on 25 Sept. 1961 recorded a population of 114,427 (Western Samoa. Population Census 1961 (Apia, 1962), 9). + For example, The Economist (11 Jan. 1964, 93) referred to the Samoan solution

as a “working model which many a small emergent territory might profitably study’. The Samoan example was also commended in a pamphlet issued by the Bow Group (a group of younger British Conservatives): Imperial Postscript. A new era for the Smaller Territories (London, 1962), 23-4. This pamphlet outlines

earlier British thinking on the future of the smaller territories and proposes a policy more in line with contemporary political realities. 415

416 SAMOA MO SAMOA After independence the Samoan government began to develop its external relations along the lines that had already been planned. On 1 August 1962 a Treaty of Friendship was signed with New Zealand.t This provided for consultation between the governments of the two countries ‘on matters of mutual interest and concern’; and it gave an assurance that New Zealand would ‘consider sympathetically requests . . . for technical, administrative and other assistance’. But

its most important section was that defining the manner in which New Zealand would act as the agent of Western Samoa in matters of international relations. The Government of New Zealand shall, for as long as the Government of Western Samoa wishes, and in such manner as will in no way impair the right of the Government of Western Samoa to formulate its own foreign policies, afford assistance to the Government of Western Samoa in the conduct of its international relations. In particular the Government of New Zealand will: (a) when requested, act as the channel for communications between the Government of Western Samoa and other Governments and international organizations; (b) when requested, and where permissible and appropriate, undertake

the representation of the Government of Western Samoa at any international conference at which Western Samoa is entitled to be represented ;

(c) when requested, supply Western Samoa with information concerning international affairs; (d) undertake the diplomatic protection of nationals of Western Samoa in other countries and perform consular functions on their behalf.

The New Zealand government was willing to perform these services because it accepted a special responsibility to assist Western Samoa and because it recognized that the Samoan government was unlikely

to develop policies markedly divergent from its own. Within the framework provided by the treaty, the actual scope of New Zealand’s

activities on behalf of Western Samoa was defined in discussions between the two Prime Ministers and confirmed by a formal exchange of letters.* * For a more detailed statement on relations between Western Samoa and New Zealand, see: Annual Report of the [New Zealand] Department of External Affairs, 1 April 1962 to 31 March 1963 (Department of External Affairs, Publication

No. 250, Wellington, 1963). Either government may terminate the treaty by giving three months’ notice to the other of its desire to do so.

THE INDEPENDENT STATE OF WESTERN SAMOA 417

In Samoa, the Prime Minister holds the portfolio of External Affairs, and officers of the Prime Minister's Department handle the business of that portfolio. Western Samoa has become a member of the World Health Organization, of the United Nations Economic Commission for Asia and the Far East, of the South Pacific Commission and of some technical agencies (such as the Asian Broadcasting Union). It sends its own representatives to meetings of these bodies. In addition,

it has conducted trade negotiations with various countries. In other matters, New Zealand acts on its behalf.

New Zealand maintains a diplomatic mission in Apia, which serves as the normal channel of communications between the two governments.* Its head—as in Commonwealth countries—holds the title of High Commissioner. From 1962 to 1965 this office was held by J. B. Wright. Because of his personal standing and experience he was able to develop a relationship between the High Commission and the Samoan government of an unusually close and friendly kind. The Samoan government has been considering the appointment of commercial representatives abroad—in New Zealand and, possibly, in Britain. But in the political field it seems likely to remain content, for some years to come, with the broad pattern of existing arrangements.

ECONOMIC criteria for independence are impossible to define. Some

countries that have obtained full sovereignty are likely to remain permanently dependent on economic aid. Others will continue to require it at least till their rate of economic growth has caught up with the rate of increase in their populations. In this context, the Samoan situation is a not unfavourable one. The people have continued to live relatively well; and the aid that the country has received has always been on a small scale.

But the problems that have had to be faced since independence by those in positions of political or administrative responsibility have been difficult ones. The incompatibility of a gradually falling level of per capita income and the popular expectation of a rising level of public

and private expenditure has been brought home to them both by * Suggestions by other countries for the opening of diplomatic posts in Apia have been declined by the Samoan government.

418 SAMOA MO SAMOA more intensive study of long-term trends and by the facts of the immediate situation.

During the years 1962-5 the average annual value of exports was

just under £(2,500,000, a figure slightly lower than that for the three-year period immediately preceding independence. The value of imports, however, has been higher than in the preceding period; and in

each year, except 1962, it has exceeded that of exports by several hundred thousand pounds. A crisis in relation to the country’s balance of payments has so far been avoided through the disposal of some of the government’s overseas assets and as a result of a substantial growth in other sources of income.* In particular, remittances to relatives by

Samoans living in New Zealand have greatly increased. But the precarious basis of present export earnings has been a cause for concern. Copra and cocoa prices are inherently unstable; and, in the case of the

latter, they have recently been exceptionally low. Copra production is not increasing and is still dependent on the declining productivity of trees well past their prime. The banana industry, which alone possesses

a guaranteed (though not unlimited) market at a stable price, has been

detrimentally affected by the spread of the bunchy-top disease, by poor standards of plantation management and by the reliance of the rapidly growing population upon bananas as a staple food. The

devastation of plantations throughout Samoa by a hurricane in January 1966 has emphasized the uncertainty with which even the maintenance of the present, inadequate level of production is beset.?

Despite the lack of economic growth, living standards do not seem to have fallen significantly. Less money has, therefore, been available either for investment or for the payment of taxes. At the same time, the government has been faced with rising costs and has accepted the necessity of embarking on a far-reaching programme of development. In July 1965 the Minister for Finance pointed out that expenditure on wages and salaries, which had been £660,000 in 1961, was expected to exceed £1,000,000 in the current year. For education

(including salaries) the figures were £266,000 in 1961 and over £400,000 in 1965.8 Total expenditure, which had been under £,1,400,000 in 1960 and under £'1,800,000 in 1961, was estimated at a little over £2,300,000 for 1965; but its limitation to this figure had * In 1965 ‘other receipts’ totalled more than £1,650,000. Apart from personal remittances, these included expenditure in Samoa by visitors, the repatriation of overseas funds by Samoan firms, etc.

THE INDEPENDENT STATE OF WESTERN SAMOA 419

required the most rigorous pruning of departmental proposals.‘ Revenue had remained relatively buoyant, largely as a result of the high level of imports; and, with some assistance from its reserves, the

government has been able to meet its ordinary expenditure. The financing of development projects, however, has been mainly dependent on the availability of loan money and the willingness of overseas

interests to invest in Samoa on the conditions that the government was willing, and able, to offer.

The Cabinet’s response to this challenge has been a positive one and somewhat more constructive than that of New Zealand and the High Commissioner to similar problems during the 1950s. It has sought ways of improving the procedures of government itself by commissioning studies of the fiscal structure and of the structure and functioning of the administration; but so far it has made few changes as a result of them.® Its attention has been mainly concentrated upon the problems of economic development.

During the months immediately preceding the attainment of independence a preliminary study of development needs was made by

a broadly representative committee appointed by Cabinet. In its report, which was presented in December 1961, the committee stated

the need for a rapid expansion of agricultural production, for the increased exploitation of the country’s timber resources and for the development of secondary industries based on the use of local raw materials.6 In regard to agriculture, its recommendations were of a highly conservative kind. It recognized that a major increase in production could not be achieved unless land already under cultivation was more effectively used; but it rejected the case for changes in land tenure. In relation to the establishment of new industries, and to the

scope of government action in the economic field, it was less unadventurous. It recommended the creation of a development authority,

the granting of tax concessions to approved new industries and the raising of overseas loans for development purposes. But, realistically,

it also emphasized the need for more detailed study before final decisions were taken.

Early in 1962 a survey team sponsored by the United Nations examined Samoa’s need for technical assistance. As a result of its visit, the United Nations invited two economists to make a survey and prepare development proposals. One of those selected was V. D. Stace. But, despite Stace’s intimate knowledge of Samoa (and of the Pacific

Islands, generally), the report that he and his colleague produced

420 SAMOA MO SAMOA early in 1963 was a disappointing one.’ Though it was issued in both their names, it consisted of two parts which they had clearly drafted separately. These overlapped and were, to some extent, inconsistent. Much of the analysis was trite or woolly. Many of the recommendations seemed to reflect little more than a simple acceptance of ideas that were already in circulation. The work of the economists

was later supplemented by more specialized studies by other United Nations experts; but these, too, mainly failed to relate fact and theory rigorously enough to provide a firm basis for a development plan. The faulty work of the advisers did not produce paralysis at the executive level. There was no lack, but rather a surfeit, of schemes intended to promote the expansion of the country’s economy. One

subject that had long been under discussion was that of harbour facilities. Apia remained the only port of entry; and, in the absence of a deep-water wharf, it continued to be worked by lighters. The necessity of bringing all Savai’'i produce to Upolu in small coastal vessels was held to be a major impediment to the development of that

island.* In July 1963 the government announced that it intended to undertake a programme of dredging and wharf construction at Apia and Asau, in western Savai’i, at an estimated cost of £1,200,000, in order to equip both ports for the handling of overseas shipping.® In December it announced that a contract had been let for the major constructional work and that a loan of £/1,000,000 was to be raised, backed by a guarantee from the New Zealand government.® Development at Asau, which also includes the establishment of a township (the first in Savai’i), has proceeded rather slowly; but the new port facilities at Apia were brought into use early in 1966.

The government has been equally active in the promotion of a more general development programme. In 1964 a Development * The people of Savai’i have taken a very active interest in the improvement of port facilities. In Fa’asaleleaga it was believed that the best site for a deep-water port was Salelologa, which the government had already developed as the principal port for inter-island shipping. The Fa’asaleleaga district council raised funds and commissioned a report on its further development: ‘Preliminary Evaluation Report on a Deep Water Harbor for Salelologa, Western Samoa’, by Daniel, Mann, Johnson and Mendenhall (Los Angeles, Cal.; Washington, D.C.), 11 Jan. 1963. (A copy is in my possession.) The government was willing, however, only to undertake the further improvement of Salelologa as an inter-island port. In Gaga’emauga similar claims were made on behalf of Fagamalo. Recently, the Gaga’emauga people have greatly improved Fagamalo as an inter-island port.

THE INDEPENDENT STATE OF WESTERN SAMOA 421

Secretariat was formed, headed by an economist and assisted by groups of advisers. A loan was raised locally for development purposes; and funds were provided for the formation of a development branch of the Bank of Western Samoa. Studies have been made of the feasibility of establishing a number of new industries; and, in some cases, more positive action has already followed. Western Samoa Trust Estates Corporation has built a soap factory and also hopes to manu-

facture coconut oil and coconut flour. The government has begun negotiations for the establishment of the country’s first tourist hotel and is discussing a proposal for the large-scale exploitation and development of the timber resources of Savai'i. Several smaller enterprises, such as the export of teak furniture and of fresh fruit and vegetables, have been embarked upon; and effective action has been taken to improve the quality and increase the quantity of the principal export crops. These developments show that the government has been prepared

to act with vigour and that much of the advice it has received has been of a constructive kind. But, in some instances, they also reveal a weakness in the government's position and in its procedures. Recom-

mendations by overseas experts require careful examination, at the political and administrative levels, to relate them adequately to local circumstances; and, in these respects, the government’s studies have tended to be superficial.

The harbour development programme illustrates this weakness. When the government decided to proceed with constructional work at both Apia and Asau, it had a great deal of information on the technical problems involved. But its understanding of the economic implications of the programme was based on broad assumptions, rather than exact knowledge. It was believed that the two harbours would have a stimulating effect upon the economy that would more than compensate for the heavy expenditure upon their construction. In relation to Asau, this belief was probably sound. But at Apia the situation was more complex. The port has been worked efficiently with

lighters. The town and its environs have possessed a labour force substantially dependent on the port as a source of income. Compared with the position in richer countries, labour, in Samoa has remained an inexpensive factor in production and capital a costly one. In these

circumstances, it cannot safely be taken for granted that the construction of a wharf equipped for the mechanical handling of cargo

422 SAMOA MO SAMOA will reduce loading costs. Moreover, the consequential obligations of servicing an overseas loan and of mitigating possible unemployment may prove difficult to fufil. The significance of factors such as these does not seem to have been examined in any detail. If the new harbour facilities at Apia and Asau achieve the beneficial results that have been predicted, the government will be able to take pride in the correctness of its assumptions, rather than in the thoroughness of its investigation.

GOVERNMENT policy as a whole, including economic policy, has also been affected detrimentally by political factors of a more general kind.

One of these has been the uneasy relationship between Cabinet and back-bench members of the Legislative Assembly. The absence of a party system has left members free to oppose any government measure; and the practice—deeply rooted in Samoan custom—of compensating the government’s opponents for lack of ministerial office by dominant representation in the committees of the assembly has assisted them to

oppose effectively. Moved by caution and conservatism, on the one hand, and by the desire to increase their own influence, on the other, they have used their opportunities fully. Weaknesses in government arguments and policies have been vigorously attacked. Moves that would increase the power of the executive, at the expense of that of the legislature, have been consistently opposed. A government bill to enable the granting of tax concessions to approved new industries, for example, was amended by the assembly, so as to remove its admin-

istration from the control of the executive government and was therefore withdrawn.!° A subsequent bill, intended to remove the assembly’s power to act in this way, was reported adversely upon by the Bills Committee and was not proceeded with.1! On other occasions,

the assembly has rejected or amended financial proposals that the government has regarded as important. Cabinet has reacted to these rebuffs by refraining from bringing before the assembly matters that,

in strict law, have been the responsibility of the executive, even where—as with the terms of the Treaty of Friendship with New Zealand or of the harbour contract—they have been of major public interest. Neither the Prime Minister nor the assembly, however, has chosen to make these differences the occasion for raising an issue of confidence.

THE INDEPENDENT STATE OF WESTERN SAMOA 423

The acceptance of a situation in which a Cabinet may be defeated but is not dismissed has been, in part, a consequence of the lack of party organization. But, in part also, it has been a reflection of ideas deriving from the traditional polity. Ideas of this kind have sometimes been a major determinant of political decisions. They affected part of the new electoral legislation. The Electoral Act, which did not re-enact the procedure for election by majority nomination and which included provisions for the election of members representing individual voters, did not arouse any major controversy.! But the provision in the Constitution for the election of forty-five members representing single-member territorial constituencies created a difficult problem for Samoan conservatism. Though the existing division of the country into forty-one electoral areas was of recent origin, it had come to be accepted as part of the customary political

order. A select committee was appointed to recommend how the necessary changes should be made; and, after its report had been debated at length by the assembly, it was decided that present electoral boundaries should be retained but that the most populous constituency in each of four districts—Atua, Tuamasaga, A’ana and Fa’asaleleaga—

should return two members.!* The implementation of this decision required an amendment to the Constitution, which was made without difficulty. The assembly thus first used the amendment procedure in the service of conservatism, not, as had been hoped, to give expression to significant advances in political thinking.* * The Constitution Amendment Act, 1963, by which the change was implemented, also made a slight amendment to the provisions relating to the Court of Appeal. The willing acceptance of these amendments by the Legislative Assembly encouraged the government’s legal officers to regard further amendment of the

Constitution as a matter almost of routine. The growth of this attitude was dangerous, in principle. Moreover, since the government has not yet had a constitutional lawyer among its legal officers, it has created additional difficulties and dangers. A minor amendment included in a subsequent bill was based on a

misinterpretation of the wording of the Constitution; and it was later agreed that the original wording should be restored when a suitable occasion occurred. Further, there has been a tendency to contemplate the incorporation in the Constitution of provisions as detailed and specific as those appropriate to ordinary legislation. Provisions of this character, designed to meet the needs of essentially temporary circumstances, are likely to make further amendment of the Constitution, in due course, unavoidable. In so far as this attitude is allowed to develop, the value of the Constitution, as the basic legal framework of the Independent State of Western Samoa, will be undermined. A more mature attitude towards the Constitution has, however, already been

42.4 SAMOA MO SAMOA The same ideas shaped the decision of both Cabinet and the assembly

on the question of granting agricultural leases over customary land. In 1963 the select committee appointed before independence completed its work and reported to the assembly. It recognized the need for more effective use of the land and for the provision of credit to assist its

development. But it rejected the proposal that leases should be granted to taulele’a, on the ground that this would weaken the authority of the matai.4 The assembly accepted the report; and, in 1965, the government introduced a bill based on its recommendations. During the ensuing debate, Amoa Tausilia vacated his position as Speaker, in an attempt to reverse the decision excluding untitled

people from the right to become lessees; but his amendment was defeated by twenty-six votes to fifteen. The substantial support for Amoa’s motion shows, however, that Samoan opinion is slowly changing. The vote, unlike that in the Constitutional Convention, fairly accurately reflected the relative strength of progressives and conservatives in Samoan politics. In different circumstances, and with better organization, the progressive group could well win sufficient additional support to gain a majority. Although its members are only loosely associated and hold divergent views on a number of important subjects, they possess a broad similarity of outlook. The granting of universal suffrage, the formation of

political parties, the elimination of the surviving remnants of discrimination on grounds of descent—proposals such as these are shown by many members of the Legislative Assembly. When a second Constitution Amendment bill was introduced in the latter part of 1963, it was strongly criticized; and, in part, rejected. On that occasion, Pilia’e Iuliano said (AD, 6 Nov. 1963, 458): I would refer you, Sir, to the remarks of one of the Hon. Members during our Constitutional Convention where he rightly said that if one stone is removed from the present Constitution the whole foundation is being broken down or weakened.

And, in reference to the actual drafting by Aikman and me, he added: ... 1 know that the two gentlemen concerned had endeavoured to word our Constitution in a very simple and plain language. . . so that it would be readily understood by the people of our country.

The unfavourable report by the Bills Committee on the amendment introduced in the following year seems to have owed something to this point of view, as well as to the specific provisions of the bill.

The cautious approach of the assembly to proposed amendments, and the government’s recognition that its legal staff should include an officer trained in constitutional law (in which field a law graduate from Samoa is currently undertaking post-graduate work in New Zealand), provide substantial assurance for the future.

THE INDEPENDENT STATE OF WESTERN SAMOA 425

discussed amongst them with sympathetic interest and, mainly, with approval.*

At a different level, the general election held on 4 April 1964 similarly demonstrated a more sophisticated response to the demands of parliamentary government.!® Individual voters were entitled to

elect two members. Those returned, G. F. D. Betham and F. C. F.

Nelson, were both members of Cabinet. In the territorial constituencies, twenty-nine members were elected by secret ballot, as compared with eighteen in 1961, and only sixteen on the basis of a single, agreed nomination.} Of those elected by secret ballot, including

the two representatives of individual voters, nineteen received an absolute majority of valid votes cast; three, standing in constituencies where there was a substantial number of candidates, were returned on

polls of less than thirty per cent. Nine of the members elected by territorial constituencies had formerly possessed European status, including two who had sat in previous assemblies as European members and one who had served as head of a government department.t

One of the newly elected members was the editor of the Samoanlanguage section of a local newspaper. The new assembly contained a * The proposals of the Working Committee on Self-Government, which were endorsed by the Constitutional Convention, provided, of course, for the elimination of the legal distinction between “Samoans’ and ‘Europeans’. Subsequent action has fallen short of this in respect of eligibility to hold matai titles and to exercise the pule over customary land. In 1963, while I was present to advise the government, a bill was drafted, and approved by Cabinet, to give general effect to the Working Committee’s proposals on these matters. When the bill—the Samoan Status Bill—was being considered by the assembly, the Prime Minister successfully moved an amendment which had the effect of restricting such eligibility to persons who had ‘any Samoan blood’ (AD, 8 Nov. 1963, 499). The old restriction which prevented persons less than half Samoan by descent from enjoying these privileges, was thus removed; but persons related to a Samoan ’diga only by marriage or adoption were still excluded. An element of racial discrimination, though a minor one, had thus been retained in the law. + In constituencies where an election by secret ballot was necessary, the ali’i and faipule, in some cases, used traditional methods in an attempt to determine, in advance, the result of the poll. A village or district fono would decide which candidate should be supported and thus make it difficult for open support to be given to his rivals. A detailed account of action of this kind in the constituency of

’Aiga-i-le-Tai is given in an unpublished paper by F. C. and V. J. Ala’ilima (‘Consensus and Ballot in a Western Samoan Election Campaign’ [East West Center, Honolulu, 1964]). V. J. Ala’ilima was the unsuccessful candidate in that constituency. t After a by-election later in the year, the number rose to ten. The successful candidate on that occasion was, until his election, an officer of the Treasury.

426 SAMOA MO SAMOA larger proportion of members with useful experience outside the traditional social system than its predecessors had done. The character of Samoan political life is largely dependent upon the

composition of the assembly and thus upon the matai who (apart from the relatively small number of individual voters) constitute the electorate. Other sections of the community possess only a limited opportunity for exercising direct political influence. Although the two Apia newspapers provide a continuous, and often perceptive, commentary on matters of public concern, their more critical comments have, on occasion, been treated by Cabinet Ministers as an improper intrusion into their own special preserve. In 1965 an attempt was made to form a popular political movement.!7 This action was precipitated by a rise in the cost of living, which had recently been accentuated by increases in import duties,

and by the inadequate opportunities for employment available to those leaving school. Two mass marches to Mulinu’u were arranged,

for the purpose of placing requests for policy changes before the Legislative Assembly; and an organization was set up. Members of the assembly sympathetic to the requests (and to the organization) moved for the appointment of a select committee. This recommended the acceptance of several of the proposed changes; but its recommenda-

tions were rejected by the assembly as a whole. To a majority of Samoan parliamentarians, the methods of the Mau are no longer acceptable.

The dominant tone of Samoan politics is not reactionary, but it thus remains conservative. On some important subjects, opinion is changing very slowly. In matters of land policy, for example, it has not kept pace with the increasingly urgent need for agricultural development. And it is possible that matai suffrage will not be abandoned till great damage has been done to the traditional social structure. For many years villages have been creating additional matai in order to increase their influence in elections. In December 1964 it was found that the electoral roll for a constituency where a by-

election was to be held had been inflated to more than double its size at the time of the general election earlier in the year. New titles had been created, and many of them had been conferred on women

and children (including a boy of seven and a girl of twelve). The government dealt with the situation by securing the passage of legislation restricting suffrage to matai over the age of twenty-one.'® The Samoans, like all conservatives, run the risk of retaining the form of

THE INDEPENDENT STATE OF WESTERN SAMOA 427

traditional institutions when their spirit and purpose have disappeared and, in doing so, of failing to satisfy contemporary demands. When

faced with the problem of balancing the claims of progress and tradition, they have tended to attach a preponderant weight to the latter. This attitude of mind, which has distinguished the leaders of Samoa from those of many other new states, has brought the country benefits that, so far, have outweighed the losses. In particular, it has made the Samoans deeply respectful of constitutional methods of government. The response of Cabinet to its difficulties in the Legislative Assembly, for example, was to invite Aikman and me to discuss these with it and with the assembly as a whole. Was an amendment to the Constitution desirable, we were asked, in order to clarify the division of authority

between executive and legislature? We answered that it was not. We suggested certain changes in procedure. But the main burden of our comments was of a different order. Both parties to the dispute had

been acting in a spirit of exaggerated legalism, interpreting their respective rights with adroitness but with too little regard for the common sense and restraint that form an indispensable element in the effective working of parliamentary institutions.1® Our comments and suggestions were well received, since both sides were more deeply

committed to support of constitutional government than to the attainment of immediate political objectives. The government of Samoa since independence has thus been basic-

ally sound, though its achievements have been unspectacular. Its strength has derived from Samoan conservatism, which has continued to set limits to what the government may do, as well as to how it may do it. But, at a time when both the needs of the country and the

expectations of its citizens are rapidly becoming more difficult to satisfy, this also represents a weakness. Because of its political traditions,

Samoa is well protected against the tyranny and disorder that have marked the early years of many other new states. For the same reason, it is in danger of failing to keep pace with events.

THE prospects of a new state are never wholly determined, however, by the range of its material resources, the quality of its government,

and the character of its relations with the rest of the world. They are dependent also on its people’s sense of identification with the

428 SAMOA MO SAMOA country as a whole, rather than with its constituent groups. In Western Samoa both local and lineage ties are still strong. People are deeply

conscious of their association with their village and district, with their position in the lineage structure. To most of them, the decisions of the village fono seem of more immediate relevance than those of the central government. The quest for titles has retained most of its savour and much of its importance. But the old rivalries between the tama diga and their supporters have been muted; and a consciousness of national identity has emerged that embraces much more than the issues of status and ceremonial with which it was formerly concerned. These changes have been one of the more important consequences of Samoa’s long contact with the Western world. They had their origins in Samoan experience during the nineteenth century and during the

period of the Mau; but they were matured and confirmed by the political events of the years between 1947 and 1962.

Guided particularly by the example of Tupua Tamasese Mea ole, Samoan public men came to accept more completely the priority of their obligation to the national cause. Till 1947 Tamasese himself had hoped to become the active leader of an independent Samoan government. His knowledge and experience, and his political skill, would have enabled him to fill such a role with great distinction. But he came to

recognize that the course it was his duty to follow, because of his eminent position, was that of gradual withdrawal from the political arena. When he left one field of activity after another—on the forma-

tion of the new Legislative Assembly in 1957; on the introduction of Cabinet government in 1959; on the dissolution of the Constitutional Convention in October 1960—he gave no sign of the regret that he felt. In January 1962 he entered upon the largely ceremonial duties of Head of State with a determination to establish the dignity and

impartiality of the office. Till that time, his political influence had remained strong and pervasive; but, increasingly, he had chosen to exercise it behind the scenes.?° On 5 April 1963 Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole died, and, in accordance

with the provisions of the Constitution, Malictoa Tanumafili II became sole holder of the office of Head of State for life. The absence

of a representative of S4 Tupua at the highest level of the political

structure aroused no adverse comment. The spirit of contention between the adherents of the two great lineages and their tama’ diga had ceased to be a factor of importance. A further consequence of the death of Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole

THE INDEPENDENT STATE OF WESTERN SAMOA 429

was a dispute regarding the succession to his title.24 This was conferred on Lealofi, the eldest son of Tupua Tamasese Lealofi III. The new Tamasese was a man of forty-one and a government medical officer of high standing. An objection made at the time on behalf of Matai’a Europa, a younger brother of Lealofi III and Mea’ole, was not

proceeded with. But those who had supported it held a separate ceremony and conferred the title on Tufuga Efi, Mea’ole’s elder son, who, till his father’s final illness, had been a university student in New

Zealand. This split brought the issue before the Land and Titles Court. Lealofi, as a man of suitable age and experience and the representative of a senior line of the family, had been a strong contender. The court decided that, on procedural grounds as well, his election

had been a valid one and declared him to be the sole holder of the title. Those who had supported Efi were not satisfied, however, with the position in which their candidate was left by this decision. His election, or purported election, to the ancient title of Tuia’ana was, therefore, arranged; and this has been followed by a similar election of Tupua Tamasese Lealofi IV to that of Tuiatua.* The elections to these two titles greatly widen the dispute. Tuimalealiifano and Tupua Tamasese also have strong claims to that of Tuia’ana and Mata’afa to that of Tuiatua. Moreover, together with the titles of Gatoaitele and Tamasoali’i, they constitute the status of tafa’ifa. Because of the former struggles for titular supremacy all these titles had for many years been left unfilled. In an earlier period, actions of the kind that have followed the death of Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole would almost certainly have led to war. At the present time, they can still cause much ill-feeling amongst those directly concerned; but it is most unlikely that they will

endanger the stability of the Samoan state. The basic political irrelevance of contention for the great titles is a sure sign of the change that has occurred in Samoa. But throughout Samoan society there have been equally important sions of change. The career of Mata’afa shows that, even for a tama diga, political ambition can now best be fulfilled by gaining office under a

parliamentary system. The declining influence of Timua and Pule reflects both the more modern outlook of many of those who now * An appeal against the election of Tufuga Efi as Tuia’ana is at present before the Land and Titles Court (see Samoa Bulletin, 17 Dec. 1965). The election of Tupua Tamasese Lealofi IV as Tuiatua has occurred too recently for it to have yet become clear what consequences it may have. At a by-election in May 1965, Tufuga Efi was elected as Member of Parliament for the constituency of Vaisigano No. I.

430 SAMOA MO SAMOA represent the once dominant orator groups and a broadening of the basis of political power. The representation of more than a fifth of the territorial constituencies by members who formerly possessed European status reveals the growing unity of the Samoan population. Custom has been transformed. Samoa has become a nation.

A Note on Samoan Orthography FourTEEN letters only are used in the writing of Samoan words (other than words of foreign origin recently introduced into the language). These are: a, e, f, g, i, 1, m,n, 0, ps, t, u, v. The letters h, k, and r are used in writing some words of foreign origin. The letter g represents the nasal sound in the English word singer (written in English as ng). An inverted comma or apostrophe marks the glottal stop. This represents a break, or catch, in the voice similar to that found in the Cockney pronunciation of English (for example, letter pronounced as le’er), A macron (-) marks long vowels. Samoan practice with regard to the use of both these symbols varies.

Often they are omitted when this does not create any ambiguity or uncertainty as to pronunciation for a person conversant with the language. Here, I have used both symbols wherever linguistic propriety requires them, except in some cases (with personal names, place-names, and the titles of government offices) in which it would have seemed pedantic to ignore local convention.

431

Glossary”

“Giga family, relative

ali’i chief

Alvi Sili paramount chief, the title given to Mata’afa Iosefa by the Germans

aualuma the group of unmarried women in a village (including widows and divorced women)

"aumdga the group of untitled men in a village fa alupega a formalized naming of the principal titles and lineage connections of a village, a district, etc.

fa amasino judge

fa atonu instructor, director

faife’ au pastor faipule councillor

In the phrase ali’i ma faipule (ali’i and faipule), the term denotes the tulafale of a village.

Faipule district representative See also: Fono of Faipule; Ta’imua and Faipule

fale house A fale tele is a round house customarily used for the reception of guests and the holding of meetings; a fale

afolau is a long house, with straight sides, used as a dwelling.

Fautua adviser, the title of an office created by the Germans for certain of the tama’ diga and continued till independence

fono council, assembly for deliberation Fono of Faipule the advisory council of district representatives created by the Germans and continued till 1957

"ie toga fine mat

lavalava the waist-cloth or kilt forming part of the dress of both men and women

malae the central meeting place of a village

malaga journey, travelling party * Samoan terms are defined where they first occur in the text. Those that are used only once are, therefore, omitted from this glossary. The glossary also includes a few English terms that employ Samoan words (for example, Fautua, Fono of Faipule). As these have become part of normal English usage in Samoa, they are not italicized.

432

GLOSSARY 433 mal the dominant party or faction, victorious in war; in modern times, the government Mal@ is also used as the Samoan term for ‘state’ and ‘nation’.

matai titled head of a family, i.e., an alii, tuldfale, or tulafale ali’i

nu'u village, parish (in the English administrative sense)

papdlagi European

pitonu’u sub-village, section of a village potopotoga o faletua

ma tausi the group of wives of chiefs and orators in a village

pule authority, control

Pule eroups of orators in the principal traditional political centres of Savai'i

In the nineteenth century, till about 1889, these centres were Safotulafai and Saleaula. Subsequently, they have also included Safotu, Asau, Satupa’itea and Palauli. See also Tumua

pulefa’ atoaga plantation inspector

pulemau the matai of a village who reside there and participate in its affairs and who are not holders of government office

This group is considered to constitute the village’s “firm

authority’ (which is the literal meaning of the term), since its members are able to devote themselves to the control of its affairs without regard to obligations in other places or to outside authorities.

pulenu’u government agent in a village

siapo tapa cloth

tafa’ifa a chief holding the four great titles conferring titular supremacy, or kingship

Ta’imua and

Faipule the members of the two houses of the nineteenth-century Samoan ‘parliament’

Coloquially, the words were used on their own, as are ‘Lords’ and ‘Commons’ in England, to refer to the two houses themselves. The house of Ta’imua was a council of high-ranking chiefs. The house of Faipule was an assembly of district representatives.

tama diga ‘royal son’, a person of large family connections tama fafine the children of a sister, the female line of a family taule’ ale’ a a young or untitled man; the plural is taulele’a

tulafale orator

tulafale ali’i orator-chief

434 SAMOA MO SAMOA Timua groups of orators (and orator-chiefs) in certain important traditional political centres in Upolu

Originally the term applied only to the groups at Leulumoega in A’ana and Lufilufi in Atua. Later it was

applied also to the groups at Afega and Malie in Tuamasaga. It is now used, even more broadly, to refer similarly to the spokesmen for the districts of ’Aiga-i-leTai and Va’a-o-Fonoti as well.

tupu king

Abbreviations AD Legislative Assembly Debates For the exact title of these volumes, which has varied, see A Note on Sources.

AJHR Appendix to the Journals of the House of Representatives of New Zealand

AO Administrator’s Office Convention, 1954 Constitutional Convention of Western Samoa [1954] Papers and Proceedings

Convention, 1960 Constitutional Convention Debates (Official Report) 1960

DR ‘A Documentary Record and History of the Lauati Rebellion (O Le Mau Lauati) in Western Samoa—1909’

DVG Report of the Commission to Inquire into and Report upon the Organization of District and Village Government in Western Samoa

FO Foreign Office

GCA German Colonial Administration For details, see _A Note on Sources

IT Island Territories

PD New Zealand Parliamentary Debates RC Western Samoa (Report of Royal Commission concerning the Administration of ) [1927]

Report The official report on the administration of the Mandated Territory and, subsequently, the Trust Territory of Western Samoa

Citations indicate the period covered by a particular report thus: Report, 1926-7. For details of the title and form of publication of these reports, see A Note on Sources.

Resolutions Resolutions adopted by the Constitutional Convention of Western Samoa 1960

SSL London Missionary Society, South Sea Letters

435

A Note on Sources In chapter 2 (The Traditional Polity), I have drawn on accounts of Samoan society written by European observers after the establishment of contact with the Western world and have interpreted these in the light of my understanding of twentieth-century Samoa. This is a perilous—and, some might consider, unscholarly—undertaking; but in writing of a pre-literate society it has been unavoidable. Moreover, my contacts, like those of most earlier students of Samoan society, have been primarily with the matai. This has not, I think, much affected the analysis, since I have been concerned with thought and action at the political level; but it is a matter of some—even if slight—relevance, not only in regard to chapter 2 but to the book as a whole.

One ethnographic work has been of special importance, because of the great detail in which it examines the political structure: Augustin Kramer, Die Samoa-Inseln, Entwurf einer Monographie mit besonderer Beriicksichtigung Deutsch-Samoas, 2 vols (Stuttgart, 1902-3). Dr Solf noted that there were many

inaccuracies in Krdmer’s work (see Solf to Staff, 7 March r904—GCA, 17A1/3); and I have similarly found reason to doubt its accuracy on some matters. However, a considerable amount of knowledge of the traditional structure has now been lost to the Samoans, primarily as a result of the 1918 epidemic. It is therefore not always possible to go beyond Kramer. Chapter 3 (The Impact of the West 1830-1900) is based principally upon

printed sources (including parliamentary papers, etc.) and the late R. P. Gilson’s very thorough and perceptive study “The Politics of a Multi-Cultural Community: Samoa, 1830-1900’ (which is being prepared for publication by

the Oxford University Press, Melbourne). As the notes show, however, I have been able to supplement this material at some points from Foreign Office and London Missionary Society records and from the recollections or family records of Samoans. In preparing chapter 4 (The Period of Colonial Paternalism 1900-26) and chapter 5 (The Rejection of Paternalist Control 1926-46), I have found it impossible to rely upon secondary sources. For the period of German control, I have used, principally, the records of the German administration which have

survived. These are now deposited in the National Archives, Wellington, New Zealand. Despite major gaps, they provide a fairly adequate source for the study of general policy and, in particular, for the study of policy towards the Samoan people. (They are cited in the notes as GCA [German Colonial Administration].) An English translation of the most important documents and a summary of a much larger quantity of material was made by Mrs Trudy Newbury, under the general supervision of Mr Gilson and myself. Copies of these translations are held by the Department of Pacific History of the Aus-

430

A NOTE ON SOURCES 437 tralian National University and the National Archives. A somewhat more convenient, though less complete, source for the study of Solf’s policy towards the Samoans is: “A Documentary Record and History of the Lauati Rebellion (O Le Mau Lauati) in Western Samoa—r1909’ (typescript, 3 vols). This consists of English translations of despatches, letters, speeches, etc., covering the period 1900-10, compiled by A. L. Braisby for the Administration of Western Samoa

in 1932-3. A copy is held by the National Archives. A Samoan account of the Lauaki rebellion (and of events back to the 1870s) is “The Mau of Pule— 1900’ by the late Tofa Piga Pisa, a close associate of Lauaki during his later years. This is a typescript; a copy is in my possession. For the German period and for those which succeeded it, the Apia newspapers have also been an important source. They have been successively: Samoanische Zeitung, ? April 1901-2 January 1915 Samoa Times, 9 January 1915-28 February 1930 Samoa Guardian, 26 May 1927-27 February 1930 Samoa Herald, 7 March 1930-27 March 1936 Western Samoa Mail, 3 April 1936-28 March 1942 Samoa Bulletin, 3 November 1950-[to date] Samoana, 31 August 1960-|to date]

All these papers have been weeklies. Western Samoa was without a local newspaper between April 1942 and November 1950. There have also been official gazettes—the Samoanisches Gouvernementsblatt (1900-14) and, subsequently, the Western Samoa Gazette—and a combined gazette and newspaper in the Samoan language, O Le Savali, established by the Germans in 1905 and continued to date. The New Zealand Samoa Guardian, a newspaper concerned with Samoan affairs and espousing the cause of the Mau, was published in Auckland from 9 May 1929 till 9 March 1934. It was a weekly till 31 December 1930. After that it generally appeared every fourth week; but there were a few irregularities in publication dates. For the period of military administration, I have relied principally upon: (1) local newspapers; (2) material contained in Samoan Epidemic Commission (Report of) (AJHR, 1919, H31C) and Visit of Parliamentary Party to Pacific Islands, February-March, 1920 (ibid., 1920, As); and (3) secondary sources. I have seen only a few files from the considerable body of records dealing with this period in the National Archives in Wellington. One military file, which is

cited in a note, requires a specific mention. This is: MO, 18/15 [Secret]. Samoa: Native Feelings towards British Rule.

The Mitchell Library, Sydney, possesses an important collection of papers acquired some thirty years ago from the late Mr E. Riddell, a former officer

of the Native Affairs Department. This includes: an account of Samoan history up to 1918 by Te’o Tuvale; commentaries on the New Zealand administration of Samoa and other subjects by Riddell himself; and a few P

438 SAMOA MO SAMOA miscellaneous letters, gazettes, etc., of the nineteenth century and later. The existence of this collection has, till very recently, been unknown to historians, as it remains uncatalogued (Uncat. MSS. Set 39. Samoa. Letters. History). From the establishment by New Zealand of a civil government on 1 May 1920 till the termination of the Mandate in 1947 official reports on the administration were published in AJHR as paper A4. The first of these covered the period from 1 May 1920 to 31 March 1921; and a single report covered a four-year period, from 1 April 1941 to 31 March 1945. The remaining reports all covered a period of one year, running from 1 April till 31 March. Except at the beginning and towards the end of the period, the title of these reports was in the following form: Mandated Territory of Western Samoa (Sixth Report of the Government of New Zealand on the Administration of) for the year ended the

31st March, 1926. During Sir George Richardon’s term as Administrator, the reports contained, in addition to the normal contents of such documents, a personal commentary on events by the Administrator. In some years reports on particular aspects of the administration were printed in AJHR immediately

following the general report. (The more important of these are cited in the notes.) Together with other published material, including the mimeographed Legislative Council Debates (which I have used only selectively), these reports and the newspapers provide a fairly adequate coverage of events and opinions. I have, in addition, had access to the records of the former Secretariat (the present Prime Minister’s Department) in Western Samoa and to those of the

Department of Island Territories in Wellington. Except for material bearing upon the Mau, these records have been consulted only where they related to major policy issues or to matters of particular interest. The Samoan government records are difficult to use, because both of the system of classification adopted and of the inadequate method of storage. The Island Territories records, which have been deposited in the National Archives, are physically accessible and listed in an adequate inventory. The complexity of the Mau’s activities and of relations between it and the government made it necessary to examine thoroughly all available material. For this reason, and because of conditions of access, a more detailed reference to these records seems desirable. Of those in the National Archives, some are open to research workers generally; but the most important of them are not.

The Government of Western Samoa has also imposed restrictions upon its records relating to the Mau. The citation of a particular series in the notes does not, therefore, necessarily indicate that it is available to research workers. Of the material in Wellington the most important for a study of the Mau is Series IT 1, 1/23/8, Mau Agitation: General, 1 August 1926—|1939], 24 vols. This contains the correspondence relating to the Mau between the Minister and the Secretary of External Affairs, on the one hand, and the Administrator, the Secretary to the Administration, Crown Law officers and others (including private persons), on the other. Enclosures with this correspondence include

A NOTE ON SOURCES 439 drafts of proposed legislation, press cuttings, etc., and, of greatest value, reports on the proceedings at Mau meetings by the Inspector of Police. Other series of importance are: IT 1, 1/23/11, Mau Agitation. Riot of 28 Dec. 1929, 2 vols IT 1, 1/23/18, O. F. Nelson & Co. Ltd.: Prosecution of; Feb. 1931 IT 1, 1/33/1, Private correspondence between Sir G. S. Richardson, Administrator, and Sir Francis Bell, Minister of External Affairs IT 1, 1/49, Messrs. Verschaffelt, Park, and Berendsen: Visit to Samoa Dec. 1928 IT 1, 1/57, Administration. Notes by Col. S. S. Allen IT 1, 79/2/1, Nelson, O. F. Samoa. General Correspondence IT 1, 79/76, Col. J. W. Hutchen. . . . Personal correspondence with

Correspondence between holders of government office in Samoa and in New Zealand is of two kinds: official and personal. These are distinguished in the notes by citing the offices held by the writer and the recipient in the case of the former (for example, Administrator to Minister) and by using their surnames for the latter (for example, Richardson to Bell). The most valuable of the material in Samoa is in Series AO, 25/1, of which the relevant volumes are variously titled Political Agitation : General, Mau : General, and Political : General. This series corresponds to IT 1, 1/23/8, in Wellington and contains the Samoan administration’s record of its correspondence with the New Zealand government relating to the Mau. It also contains all police reports and much local correspondence, only a selection of which was copied and forwarded to Wellington. The volumes covering the period up to March 1932 could not, however, be found when I was working on the series.

The last volume (AO, 25/1/24) continues until the end of the war. Other miscellaneous volumes in the Prime Minister’s Department contain some further material. The government records in both New Zealand and Samoa contain a great many documents prepared by the Mau executive, or by leaders of the movement, and the originals or copies of much correspondence (particularly between O. F. Nelson and others) that was seized during police raids on the homes of Mau leaders. The attitudes and policies of the movement are also expressed in the columns of the Samoa Guardian and the New Zealand Samoa Guardian, in the various petitions and pamphlets cited in the notes, and in the records of court proceedings, etc., published in the Samoa Times and its successor, the Samoa Herald. For the period up to November 1927, an invaluable source is provided by the records of evidence heard by the Royal Commission into the Mau and the collection of documents presented to it, which are appended to its report: Western Samoa (Report of the Royal Commission concerning the Administration of )(AJHR, 1928, A4b).

For the period 1946-61—dealt with in chapters 6 to 12—the published official documentation is more adequate than that for earlier years. Annual reports on the administration, which became more detailed, covered the

440 SAMOA MO SAMOA calendar year from 1951 onwards and bore the title: Department of Island Territories. Western Samoa administered under Trusteeship Agreement dated 13 December 1946. Report for the calendar year. . . . (published as AJHR, A4). During

the later years of the period, the same reports were also published with the title: Report by the Government of New Zealand to the General Assembly of the United Nations on the Administration of Western Samoa for the calendar year... .

Publications of the Government of Western Samoa (to which fairly full reference is given in the notes) became both more numerous and varied and more informative. Most Samoan government publications were produced in mimeographed form and were unbound. In some cases, the titles, classification, etc., of documents produced as a continuing series were changed during the period. In the earlier years, the Debates of the Legislative Assembly bore the title: Legislative Assembly of Western Samoa. Debates. This was later changed to: Legislative

Assembly Debates (Official Report). Only in the later years were the Debates produced as bound volumes. Citations in the notes therefore give the date, as well as the page number. The reports of United Nations Visiting Missions were produced, first, in mimeographed form and, later, in a more permanent format. These differed in pagination and, sometimes, in other ways. References in the notes are to the mimeographed versions. Since independence, no general annual report on administration has been produced. However, the multiplicity of papers presented to the Legislative Assembly fairly adequately fills the gap. In writing of Samoan history since 1946 I have not, however, had to rely solely or even mainly, on published material. As an officer, at different times,

of the governments of New Zealand and Western Samoa I have seen the relevant current files. In addition, I made private notes on many of the transactions in which I was involved and of discussions with Samoan leaders and others. Other participants in the events of the period have also allowed me to use their private papers. As most of this material remains confidential or private, I have not cited it in the notes. The main exceptions are a few quotations relating to the negotiations of 1947—a year which is now sufficiently remote from the present to make this relaxation, I hope, unobjectionabie.

Notes I THE COUNTRY AND THE PROBLEM 1 The quotations from Henry Adams are from: W. C. Ford (ed.), Letters of Henry Adams (1858-1891) (London, 1930), 418, 454; H. D. Cater (compiler), Henry Adams and His Friends (Boston, 1947), 197-200, 207, 215.

2 Rupert Brooke, The Collected Poems, with a Memoir [by E. H. Marsh] (London, 1918), lxxxix, xc-xcl. 3 For more detailed statistics of population see: United Nations Department of Social Affairs, Population Division, The Population of Western Samoa (Reports on the Populations of Trust Territories, no. 1, Lake Success, 1948); and Kathleen M. Jupp, Report of the Population Census, 1956. Territory of Western Samoa (Wellington, 1958). 2

THE TRADITIONAL POLITY 1 For recent discussion of the subject, see: J. Golson, “The peopling of the South Pacific’, in Western Pacific: Studies of Man and Environment in the Western Pacific (Wellington, 1958), 26-40; Kenneth P. Emory, “East Polynesian relation-

ships: settlement pattern and time involved as indicated by vocabulary agreements’, The Journal of the Polynesian Society, LX XI (1963), 78-100; and

R. C. Green and J. M. Davidson, “Radiocarbon dates for Western Samoa’, ibid., LX XIV (1965), 63-9. For a modern statement of the classical view, see Peter H. Buck (Te Rangi Hiroa), Vikings of the Sunrise (eighth impression,

Philadelphia and New York, 1938). A radically different interpretation of Polynesian migration was advanced by Andrew Sharp in Ancient Voyagers in the Pacific (Polynesian Society Memoir, no. 32, Wellington, 1956; Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, 1957). For the discussion of Sharp’s views see The Journal of the Polynesian Society for the years subsequent to his book’s first publication and, especially, Jack Golson (ed.), Polynesian Navigation. A Symposium on Andrew Sharp’s Theory of Accidental Voyages (Polynesian Society Memoir, no. 34, Welling-

ton, 1963). The well-known, though generally rejected, view of Thor Heyerdahl is advanced most fully in his American Indians in the Pacific: the Theory behind the Kon-Tiki Expedition (London, 1952). 2 Louis Violette, “Notes d’un missionnaire sur l’archipel de Samoa’, Missions Catholiques, April 1870—quoted in Augustin Kramer, Die Samoa-Inseln (Stuttgart, 1902-3), I, 3; Peter H. Buck, op. cit., 286.

3 The most important of these accounts is: Augustin Kramer, Die SamoaInseln. Entwurf einer Monographie mit besonderer Beriscksichtigung Deutsch-Samoas,

2 vols (Stuttgart, 1902-3). It contains an extensive bibliography of work published up to that time. An English translation was made, of which a small number of mimeographed copies was issued by the Administration of Western Samoa some twenty-five years ago. A short, but important, study published later than Kramer’s work is: E. Schultz, “The most important principles of Samoan family 441

442 SAMOA MO SAMOA law, and the laws of inheritance’, The Journal of the Polynesian Society, XX (1911), 43-53.

More recent work of value includes: Margaret Mead, Social Organization of Manua (Bernice P. Bishop Museum, bulletin 76, Honolulu, 1930); F. J. H. Grattan, An Introduction to Samoan Custom (Apia, 1948); Lowell D. Holmes, Tau: Stability and Change in a Samoan Village (Polynesian Society, reprint no. 7,

Wellington, 1958); and C. C. Marsack, Notes on the Practice of the [Land and Titles] Court and the Principles Adopted in the Hearing of Cases Affecting 1. Samoan

Matai Titles 2. Land Held According to Customs and Usages of Western Samoa (revised ed., Apia, 1961). A recent article by Derek Freeman—‘Some observations on kinship and political authority in Samoa’, American Anthropologist, LXVI (1964), 553-68—is useful not only in itself but as a critical commentary on other recent anthropological writing. I have also been much assisted by the late R. P. Gilson’s unpublished study (see A Note on Sources, 436, above). 3

THE IMPACT OF THE WEST 1830-1900 1 I have been much assisted, in writing this chapter, by the late R. P. Gilson’s unpublished study (see A Note on Sources, 436, above). 2 On Williams’s visits to Samoa, see: John Williams, A Narrative of Missionary Enterprises in the South Sea Islands . . . (London, 1837). His manuscript journals,

in the archives of the L.M.S., contain material omitted from the published narrative. 3 See J. D. Freeman, “The Joe Gimlet or Siovili Cult . . .’, in J. D. Freeman and W. R. Geddes (ed.), Anthropology in the South Seas. Essays presented to H. D. Skinner (New Plymouth, 1959), 185-200. 4 Freeman, op. cit., 186. 5 Pratt to Mullens (Foreign Secretary, L.M.S.), 29 Sept. 1876—SSL. 6 On the transition from coconut oil to copra, and on agricultural development

generally, see: Gordon R. Lewthwaite, “Land, Life and Agriculture to MidCentury’, in James W. Fox and Kenneth B. Cumberland (ed.), Western Samoa: Land, Life and Agriculture in Tropical Polynesia (Christchurch, 1962), 130-76.

7 Copies of this agreement, in English translation, are included in FO 58/137 and in the Westbrook Papers in the Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington. The latter, a translation by E. W. Gurr, contains several points of substantial importance not included in the former. I have not seen the Samoan original. 8 Quotations from the code of laws are from the copy, in English translation, included in FO 58/137. I have added punctuation marks and reduced some capitals to lower case.

9 Steinberger’s role has largely to be inferred, since he did not reveal the extent of his intervention to the government of the United States. My account is based on the much fuller analysis in Gilson, op. cit. 10 For a detailed summary of this agreement, see: Joseph W. Ellison, Opening and Penetration of Foreign Influence in Samoa to 1880 (Corvallis, Oregon, 1938), $7.

11 For the English text of the constitution of May 1875, see: “Proceedings of H.M.S. “Barracouta” at Samoa’ (Foreign Office Confidential Prints, no. 2837).

12 Pratt to Mullens (Foreign Secretary, L.M.S.), 29 Sept. 1876—SSL. 13 On the Steinberger episode, see: Ellison, op. cit., 46-83; Sylvia Masterman, The Origins of International Rivalry in Samoa, 1845-1884 (London, 1934), 116-30;

NOTES 443 and G. H. Ryden, The Foreign Policy of the United States in Relation to Samoa (New Haven, 1933), 83-147. Its treatment by Gilson (op. cit.) is fuller and more

perceptive than that in these earlier works. But, as an important example of nineteenth-century efforts towards creating modern governments in the Pacific islands, it merits a still more detailed analysis. 14 Quoted in Masterman, op. cit., 150. 1§ Final Act of the Conference on Samoan Affairs, 14 June 1889. The text was reprinted in Apia, with the title ‘Final Act of the Berlin Conference on Samoan Affairs’, so that its provisions presumably became widely known in Samoa. 16 O le Tusi Faalupega 0 Samoa (Malua, Western Samoa, 1915). 17 William B. Churchward, My Consulate in Samoa (London, 1887), 123.

18 For information on Lauaki Namulaw’ulu Mamoe I am particularly indebted to Tofa Tiga Pisa. He was closely associated with Lauaki during the latter’s final years and possessed an intimate knowledge of Samoan politics during the period in which Lauaki was active. His manuscript history, “The Mau of Pule—1909’, deals with the whole of this period. 19 For information regarding the mavaega (wills) of Tupua Tamasese Titimaea and Malietoa Laupepa I am indebted to Tofa I’iga Pisa. 20 For information on the political organization of Savai’i I am particularly indebted to the late Va’ai Ropati and to the late Tofa Tiga Pisa. As the former was over a hundred years of age when he died and the latter over eighty, both clearly recollected the time when the changes occurred. Va’ai was living in the district of Vaisigano (Asau) and Tiga in Fa’asaleleaga (Safotulafai). 4

COLONIAL PATERNALISM 1900-26

1 On the legal status of German protectorates, see M. F. Lindley, The Acquisition and Government of Backward Territories in International Law . . . (London, 1926), 205-6.

2 On economic, and especially agricultural, development during the German

period, see: Gordon R. Lewthwaite, ‘Land, Life and Agriculture to MidCentury’, in James W. Fox and Kenneth B. Cumberland (ed.), Western Samoa: Land, Life and Agriculture in Tropical Polynesia (Christchurch, 1962), 130-76.

3 Governor to Colonial Office, 6 Feb. 1901—GCA, 17B/2. 4 ‘Address of the Governor to the Samoan Chiefs in Mulinu’u on 17th. [scil. 14th.] August 1900, regarding the self administration of the Samoans’— DR, I, [prelim. pp.]. 5s Governor to Colonial Office, 4 Sept. 1900—DR,, I, 16-19. 6 Governor to Chief Justice, 21 July 1905 —-GCA, 17A2/2.

7 Samoanische Zeitung, 19 Aug. 1905; Governor to Faipule, N.D. [Sept. 1905|—GCA, 17A2/2. 8 ‘Statement made by Lauaki... as to the causes of the ““Mau’’ movement...: taken before Richard Williams ... on 27th February, 1909’—DR,, II, 281.

g On 27 May 1907 Williams wrote to Solf expressing regret that Mata’afa and the existing Faipule opposed the appointment of Lauaki (to fill a vacancy)

and stating that he would inform Lauaki that Solf also regretted it (GCA, 17C4/2). Lauaki was subsequently nominated by a fono at Safotulafai and was appointed (see [Leilua] Taumei to Solf, 19 June 1907—ibid.; and O le Savali, Sept. 1907).

10 Vice-Admiral Coerper to the Emperor, 9 April 1909—DR,, II, 244.

444 SAMOA MO SAMOA 11 The dates of the many meetings connected with this development, and some of the decisions reached at them, cannot be ascertained with complete accuracy, since the meetings themselves were semi-secret ones. Two accounts by participants in them exist: ‘Statement made by Lauaki... on 27th February, 1909’ —DR,, II, 275-303; and Tofa Tiga Pisa, “The Mau of Pule—1909’. The latter was written, however, over fifty years later. German accounts are all based on hearsay evidence. 12 Imperial order, 21 March 1910—GCA, 17A2/4. 13 Governor to Colonial Office, 10 July 1913--GCA, 17A2/5. 14 Trade statistics were published each year in the Samoanisches Gouvernementsblatt (Apia, 1900-14).

15 An English translation is printed, under the title “Petition, forwarded by certain residents of Western Samoa on 4th February, 1910, to the High President of the German Parliament in Berlin’, in AJHR, 1927, A4b, 44-6. 16 Samoanische Zeitung, 5 Sept. 1914. 17 William Downie Stewart, The Right Honourable Sir Francis H. D. Bell, P.C., G.C.M.G., K.C., His Life and Times (Wellington, 1937), 115.

18 On the military occupation, generally, see: Arthur W. Jose, The Royal Australian Navy, 1914-1918 (fourth edition, Sydney, 1937), 49-63, 597-9; and S. J. Smith, “The Seizure and Occupation of Samoa’, in H. T. B. Drew (ed.), The War Effort of New Zealand (Auckland, etc., 1923), 23-41. On action at Apia, and for a local impression of it, see Samoanische Zeitung, 5-26 Sept. 1914. 19 On New Zealand interest in Samoa in the nineteenth century, see Angus Ross, New Zealand Aspirations in the Pacific in the Nineteenth Century (Oxford, 1964), passim.

20 For the period of military administration I have relied, principally, upon: the Samoanische Zeitung and its successor, the Samoa Times; and material contained in AJHR (1919, H31c; 1920, As). Very general accounts of the period are contained in: L. P. Leary, New Zealanders in Samoa (London, 1918); and Robert Mackenzie Watson, History of Samoa (Wellington, etc., 1918), 138-47. Both Leary and Watson served in Samoa at the time. 21 “Samoan Epidemic Commission (Report of)’—AJHR, 1919, H3I1Ic, 6. 22 Trade statistics for the war period are contained in: ‘Visit of Parliamentary

Party to Pacific Islands, February-March, 1920°—AJHR, 1920, As, 40; and Report, 1920-1, 18.

23 The issue of the Samoa Times (a weekly) for 16 Nov. 1918 is marked ‘No. 46° and that for 7 Dec. ‘No. 47’. 24 Samoa Times, 13 Sept. 1919. This issue contains a list of newly appointed Faipule, as well as of the survivors and the deceased. With the new appointments, the number of Faipule seems to have been thirty-seven. There may, therefore, have been other deaths besides those directly resulting from pneumonic influenza. 25 This analysis of the administration’s handling of the epidemic is based on:

‘Samoan Epidemic Commission (Report of)’—AJHR, 1919, H31c; and the reports of the commission’s proceedings in the Samoa Times, May-Aug. 1919, passim.

26 Logan’s statement is printed in the Samoa Times, 7 June 1919. 27 ibid., 9 Oct. 1915. 28 ibid., 15 March, 7 June 19109. 29 PD, CLXXXV (3 Oct.-5 Nov. 1919), 337, 503-40. 30 Samoa Times, 14 June 1919.

31 On the legal basis of New Zealand administration in Western Samoa, and contemporary discussion of the issues involved, see Mary Boyd, ‘New Zealand’s Attitude to Dominion Status 1919-1921. The Procedure for enacting

NOTES 445 a constitution in her Samoan Mandate’, Journal of Commonwealth Political Studies, III (1965), 64-70.

32 The proceedings of the Parliamentary party, and the documents presented to it are contained in: ‘Visit of Parliamentary Party to Pacific Islands, FebruaryMarch, 1920’—AJHR, 1920, AS, 25-69, 72-4. 33 For the background to this development, see J. W. Davidson, “The Pacific in the First World War and in the Settlement’, in The New Cambridge Modern History, XII, 428-31 (Cambridge, 1960). On the mandate system and the Pacific mandates, see: Quincy Wright, Mandates under the League of Nations (Chicago, 1930); and George H. Blakeslee, “The Mandates of the Pacific’, Foreign Affairs, I (1922-3), no. I, 98-115. 34 On Tate and his administration, see: Report by Colonel Tate on Administration, Samoa, 1923—IT 1, 1/32; N. A. Rowe, Samoa under the Sailing Gods (London and New York, 1930), Chapter XI, passim; and J. T. Gill, “The Administration of Major General Sir George Richardson in Western Samoa 1923-1928’ (M.A. thesis, Victoria University College, N.D.), 29-34. Rowe worked in the central office of the administration during Tate’s time. 35 Fiji Times, 22 Aug. 1923, quoted in Samoa Times, 14 Sept. 1923.

36 Bell to Richardson, 31 March 1924—IT 1, 1/33/1. See also William Downie Stewart, op. cit., 212-21. 37 The results of Richardson’s discussions with the New Zealand government are reported in the Samoa Times, 28 Dec. 1923, 1 and 8 Feb. 1924. On Richardson’s

policy generally, see J. T. Gill, op. cit. 38 ‘Annual Report by the Administrator .. .’, in Report, 1925-6, 3. 39 Samoa Times, 29 May 1925. 40 ibid., 10 April 1925. 41 Richardson to Bell, 9 March 1925—IT 1, 1/33/1. 42 Samoa Times, 12 Nov. 1926. 43 ibid., 13 Nov. 1925. 44 New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 9 Jan. 1930. 45 S.M. Lambert, A Doctor in Paradise (Melbourne, 1942), 215. 46 ibid., 222. 47 Administrator to Minister, 10 May 1923, in Report, 1922-3, 2. 48 Samoa Times, 23 Oct. 1925.

5

THE REJECTION OF PATERNALIST CONTROL 1926-46 1 Samoa Times, 15 Oct. 1926. The full text of Richardson’s speech is contained in: To the League of Nations, Geneva. The Petition of Olaf Frederick Nelson of Apia, Western Samoa... (Sydney, 1928), annexure ‘A’.

2 For example, see Richardson to Gray, 23 Sept. 1926—IT 1, 1/23/8. Gray was Secretary of External Affairs. 3 Administrator to Minister, 6 Dec. 1926—ibid. 4 Richardson to Bell, 9 March 1925—IT 1, 1/33/1. 5s Gozar to Prime Minister, 12 May 1936—IT 1, 1/23/8.

6 For example, see Richardson to Gray, 29 July 1926—IT 1, 79/2/1; and Richardson to Nosworthy, 26 July 1927—IT 1, 1/33/1. 7 Reports on these meetings by the Inspector of Police, A. L. Braisby, are

published in RC, lix-Ixii. They were also reported briefly in the Samoa Times, 22 Oct., 19 Nov. 1926, and discussed in much of the literature relating

446 SAMOA MO SAMOA to the ensuing political disturbances—in particular, in O. F. Nelson, The Truth about Samoa (Auckland, 1928), 14-15.

8 The Maintenance of Authority in Native Affairs Ordinance, 1927—IT 1, I /23/8. 9 Woodward to Gray, 15 Nov. 1926—IT 1, 1/23 /8; Administrator to Minister, 6 Dec. 1926—ibid.; Hutchen to Gray, 17 Dec. 1926—IT 1, 79/76.

10 RC, 467. 11 Richardson to Gray, 25 March 1927—IT 1, 1/23/8. 12 The official account of the Minister’s visit, including a record of speeches, etc., is contained in: Mandated Territory of Western Samoa (Report of Visit by Hon. W. Nosworthy, Minister of External Affairs to) ...—AJHR, 1927 Agb. See also: Samoa Times, 17 June, 22 July 1927; and RC, passim. There are also many references to it in the pamphlet literature relating to the Mau. 13 Administrator to Minister, 24 June 1927—IT 1, 1/23/8. 14 Richardson to Bell, 13 June 1927—ibid. 15 For procedure relating to the joint select committee and the Royal Commission, see: PD, CCXII (23 June-27 July 1927), 907, 931; CCXIII (28 July-9 Sept. 1927), 703-4; CCXVI (10 Nov.-s5 Dec. 1927), 819-37; also (telegrams) Administrator to Prime Minister, 12 Aug. 1927 (two); Prime Minister to Administrator, 15 Aug. 1927—IT I, 1/46. 16 For the report and transactions of the Royal Commission see RC. 17 These reports are included in: Mandated Territory of Western Samoa (Report of Visit by Hon. W. Nosworthy, Minister of External Affairs to)\—AJHR, 1927, A4b. 18 The phrase was Nelson’s (O. F. Nelson, The Truth about Samoa (Auckland, 1928), 20).

19 Administrator to Minister, 6 Dec. 1926—IT 1, 1/23/8.

20 RC, xliv. 21 ibid., xxviii.

22 For example, see Samoa Guardian, 21 July 1927.

23 Orr-Walker to Bell, 6 July 1923, and Nelson to Richardson, 6 July 1923, enc, in Richardson to Bell, 6 July 1923—-IT 1, 1/33/1. 24 Inspector of Police to Secretary to the Administration, 8 July 1927; Admin-

istrator to Minister, 11 July 1927—IT 1, 1/23/8. See also Samoa Guardian, 14 July 1927.

25 Inspector of Police to Secretary to the Administration, 8 Feb. 1928— IT 1, 1/23/8; Samoa Herald, 5 Jan. 1934. The colour of turbans and lavalava is variously described as ‘purple’, ‘violet’ and ‘blue’. 26 On the role of Ttimua and Pule (especially in Palauli), see: Administrator to Minister, 8 Feb. 1928 (enc. report by l’iga Pisa); Packer to Secretary of Native Affairs, 28 Feb. 1928; Acting Commissioner of Police to Administrator, 12 March 1928; Inspector of Police to Minister, 12 March 1928—IT 1, 1/23/8. 27 Report, 1927-8, 4. For the ban on the purchase of imported goods and the making of copra, see: Inspector of Police to Secretary to the Administration, 8 Feb. 1928—IT 1, 1/23/8; and New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 9 Jan. 1930.

28 Administrator to Minister, 28 Feb. 1928—IT 1, 1/23/8. (The date on this memorandum probably indicates that on which Richardson began to write it; it contains a narrative of events up to about 9 March.) 29 (Telegrams) Administrator to External, 13, 17 Feb. 1928— ibid. 30 The Maintenance of Authority in Native Affairs (No. 2) Ordinance, 1928. See Samoa Times, 24 Feb. 1928. 31 Administrator to Minister, 28 Feb. 1928; (telegram) Commodore to Naval Secretary, 24 Feb. 1928—IT 1, 1/23/8.

NOTES 447 32 Administrator to Minister, 6 Jan., 9 Feb. 1928—ibid.

33 Material on the organization of the Mau is contained in: Administrator to Minister, 2 Feb. 1931; F. D. Baxter to Prime Minister, 24 June 1932—IT 1, 1/23/8; evidence, etc., in the prosecution of O. F. Nelson and Co. Ltd., Feb. 1931—IT 1, 1/23/18; A. Gozar, ‘The Districts of Falealili and Safata (Tuamasaga South): a political report .. .’, 25 June 1931—IT 1, 1/23/8. 34 New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 6 June 1929.

35 Administrator to Minister, 25 March 1929—IT 1, 1/23/8. 36 Samoa Times, 29 Nov., 6 Dec. 1928. 37 The report was reprinted in the Samoa Times, 19, 26 Oct., 2 Nov. 1928. 38 Mandated Territory of Western Samoa. (Extracts from report on finances and staff )—AJHR, 1929, A4b. The report was by P. Verschaffelt, A. D. Park, and C. A. Berendsen. 39 For details of these changes, see: Samoa Times, 28 March, 10 May 1929; and Report, 1929-30, 3, §, 19.

40 Report by a member of the Mau committee, enc. in Administrator to Minister, 3 April 1928—IT 1, 1/23/8. 41 See Taisi [to Mau committee], 21 March, 22 March, 15 April, 24 April 1929, enc. in Administrator to Minister, 31 March 1933—ibid. 42 Report, 1929-30, 3. 43 ‘List of dates and occasions when members of the Mau as a body have marched into Apia’ [filed with correspondence for Jan. 1930]—IT 1, 1/23/8. 44 Secretary to the Administration to Secretary of External Affairs, 24 June 1929, and encls.—IT 1, 1/23/8. The form of the instruction was, however, amended in August (Coroner’s Finding in the Inquest respecting the Fatalities in Western Samoa (28th December, 1929)—AJHR, 1930, A4b, 15).

45 On this incident see: IT 1, 1/23/11 (Mau Agitation. Riot of 28 Dec. 1929); Coroner’s Finding in the Inquest respecting the Fatalities in Western Samoa (28th December, 1929)—AJHR, 1930, A4b; Samoa Times, 3, 10 Jan. 1930; New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 9 Jan. 1930. 46 N. A. Rowe, Samoa under the Sailing Gods (London and New York, 1930), 278.

47 Samoa Herald, 26 Jan. 1934. 48 Orders in council and proclamations dealing with the crisis are printed in: Report, 1929-30, 42-3, 55-6. 49 New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 1 May, 30 Oct. 1930. 50 Samoa Times, 18 Jan. 1929 (reprinted from Otago Daily Times). A somewhat similar letter by a member of the police force was published in the Lyttelton Times (see Samoa Guardian, 2 Aug. 1928).

st Report, 1929-30 (appendix C), 64. 52 On Cobbe’s actions and opinions, see: Memorandum for Cabinet. Report on Visit to Samoa [by J. G. Cobbe], 20 March 1930; Administrator to Minister, 6 March 1930—IT 1, 1/23/8. $3 “P.T.’ [Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole] to Taisi, 3 April 1930— ibid.

54 A report on these meetings is given in Report, 1929-30 (appendix C), 56-68.

55 Administrator to Minister, 17 March 1930—IT 1, 1/23/8. 56 ‘P.T.’ [Tupua Tamasese Mea’ole] to Taisi, 3 April 1930—ibid. 57 New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 18 Feb. 1932. $8 PD, CCXXVI (19 Sept.-25 Oct. 1930), 452-5.

59 The text of a number of these petitions was printed in the New Zealand Samoa Guardian, including the Mau petition to George V (21 Nov. 1929), Nelson’s

448 SAMOA MO SAMOA petition of 1930 to the League of Nations (22 May 1930), Nelson’s petition to the House of Representatives of New Zealand (28 Aug. 1930), and the Mau petition to the governments of the three Powers (1 Oct. 1931). A complete set is contained in IT 1, 1/51-5, 1/58-64.

60 Administrator to Minister, 23 Jan. 1933—IT 1, 1/23/8; New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 29 Sept., 27 Oct., 24 Nov. 1932, 16 Feb. 1933. 61 Gozar to Prime Minister, 12 May 1936—IT 1, 1/23/8.

62 For the correspondence and discussion on this episode, see: Faumuina, etc., to Administrator, 5 June, 15 July, 18 Aug. 1933; Administrator to Faumuina,

etc., 9 June, 19 July 1933; notes of meetings between Administrator and Faumuina, etc., 27, 30 June, 21, 29 July, 12, 18 Aug. 1933; Inspector of Police to Administrator, 28 June, 17 Aug. 1933—AO, 25/1. Also see: New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 30 June, 28 July, 25 Aug., 22 Sept., 20 Oct., 17 Nov., 15 Dec. 1933. 63 Inspector of Police to Administrator, 19 Aug. 1933—AO, 25/1.

64 Much material on the work of the Mau at this time, including the full text of many important documents, is included in the report of the trials of Nelson and Mau officers published in the Samoa Herald, 24 Nov. 1933-16 March 1934. This is substantially supplemented by reports and correspondence in AO, 25 /1—1in particular, by the memoranda which the Inspector of Police addressed

to the Administrator every day or two during the whole of the period that the Mau representatives were in session at Vaimoso. 6§ Quoted in Samoa Herald, 22 Dec. 1933. 66 ibid., 24 Nov., 1, 8, 15 Dec. 1933.

67 The remarks of Gorst and Wiremu Tamihana are from: General Report, by J. E. Gorst, Esq., on the state of Upper Waikato; June, 1862—-AJHR, 1862, Eo, (sec. 3), 10, 13, 18.

68 On the visit of Langstone and O’Brien, and matters related to it, see: Western Samoa Mail, 5 June-14 Aug. 1936. Their report, and a record of decisions

taken on their recommendations, is in AO, 48/110 (Goodwill Mission). 69 J. F. Godinet, in a letter reprinted in the Western Samoa Mail, 9 Jan. 1937, from the Standard (Wellington), 17 Dec. 1936. 70 See a letter by Tamasese in the Western Samoa Mail, 31 July 1937, and editorial comment on the incident ibid., 24 July. 71 ibid., 9 Jan. 1937. 72 Nelson to Langstone, 16 Sept. 1937—IT 1, 79/2/1. 73 Taisi [to Mau], 3 May 1930—IT 1, 1/23/8. 74 Western Samoa Mail, 28 Aug. 1936. 75 Western Samoa Mail, 9 Oct. 1936; “The Petition of the Chosen Represent-

atives of the Samoans in the Fono of Faipule in Mulinu’u . . . to the Prime Minister’, 20 Oct. 1936—AO, 25/T. 76 Western Samoa Mail, 14 Aug. 1936. 77 The principal documents relating to this proposal are in IT 1, 67/34. A document in Samoa which shows McKay’s responsibility for it is: Memorandum for Minister of External Affairs [drafted by McKay], 5 May 1938—N[ative] D[epartment], 53/3. 78 Western Samoa Mail, 5 Feb. 1938. 79 ibid., 11 Feb. 1939.

80 Memorandum by Secretary of Native Affairs, 10 Dec. 1937; Acting Administrator to Minister, 1 June 1938—AO, 25/1. 81 Papers relating to the Prime Minister’s visit are in: IT 1, 1/67 (Visit to Samoa... and the Cook Islands) and IT 1, 1/67/1 (Representations made on Prime Minister’s Visit to Samoa and the Cook Islands—Dec. 1944 /Jan. 1945 .. .). 82 Obituary in Samoa Herald, 6 March 1936.

NOTES 449 6

THE FOUNDATIONS OF A NEW POLICY 1946-8 1 On the establishment and operation of the United Nations trusteeship system see James N. Murray, Jr., The United Nations Trusteeship System (Urbana, 1957), and Charmian Edwards Toussaint, The Trusteeship System of the United Nations (London, 1956). 2 Taisi [to Mau], 31 March 1930—IT 1, 1/23/8. 3 Legislative Council Debates, 30 Oct. 1946, I.

4 ibid., 3. 5 ibid., 8-9. 6 In its original form the letter is reproduced in the mimeographed report of a “Meeting of the European Citizens of Western Samoa... 17th December 1946’. In its amended form it is printed in: Western Samoa 1947. Report to the Trusteeship Council by United Nations Mission to Western Samoa (Department of External

Affairs, Publication No. 39, Wellington, 1947), 108-10. 7 Article 76, clause (b), of the Charter of the United Nations. This article was also quoted in full in the Trusteeship Agreement for the Territory of Western Samoa. For the text of the trusteeship agreement, and relevant articles of the Charter, see: Trusteeship Agreement for the Territory of Western Samoa. As approved by the General Assembly at the sixty-second plenary Meeting of its First Session on 13 December, 1946—AJHR, 1947, A2c.

8 Verbatim records of the two meetings, which were held on 17 Dec. 1946 and 4 Feb. 1947, were mimeographed under the title: ‘Meeting of the European Citizens of Western Samoa...’. 9g J. W. Davidson, “The Government of Western Samoa’, 32. This report, which was prepared for the Department of External Affairs, was mimeographed.

Copies are held by several government departments in New Zealand and

Western Samoa. 10 “The Government of Western Samoa’ (see note 9, above).

11 For the text of this document, and of that submitted by the Citizens’ Committee, see: Western Samoa 1947. Report to the Trusteeship Council by United Nations Mission to Western Samoa, annexes VI and VII, 114-16. 12 Pierre Ryckmans later published an account of his visit to Samoa: A l’autre bout du monde (Brussels, N.D.). 13 Statement made in the House of Representatives on 27th August, 1947, by the Acting Prime Minister, the Right Hon. W. Nash, on political advancement in Western Samoa—AJHR, 1947, Aga.

14 The mission’s report was published, in mimeographed form, as: ‘Report to the Trusteeship Council by the United Nations Mission to Western Samoa’ (United Nations, Trusteeship Council, T/46/Add. 1, 25 Sept. 1947). It was

republished, in printed form, by the New Zealand Department of External Affairs (see note 6, above). 7

THE NEW POLICY AT WORK 1 The election was held under the provisions of the Western Samoa Legislative Assembly Regulations, 1948, an order in council which was made on the day on which the Samoa Amendment Act, 1947, came into force (10 March 1948). 2 See Proceedings of Fono of All Samoa, 15-20 Jan. 1948.

450 SAMOA MO SAMOA 3 ibid., 17 Jan. 1948. 4 Legislative Council Debates, 16 Dec. 1946, 26.

5 Differences in the legal rights, etc., of persons of Samoan and European status respectively are summarized in: Report, 1948-9, 9-10. Some additional detail is given in: Report, 1954, 20. 6 Report, 1952, 32. 7 Statement made in the House of Representatives on 27th August, 1947, by the Acting Prime Minister, the Right Hon. W. Nash, on political advancement in Western Samoa—AJHR, 1947, Ada.

8 Samoa Amendment Act, 1949, sec. Io (4). 9 Nelson to Langstone, 14 Jan. 1939—IT 1, 79/2/1. 10 For example, see: Public Service Commissioner of Western Samoa (report of the) for the year ended 31st March, 1951—AJHR, 1951, Aga, 3. 11 ibid., 3, 6.

12 ‘Report of the United Nations Visiting Mission to Trust Territories in the

Pacific on Western Samoa’ (United Nations, Trusteeship Council, T/792, 15 Aug. 1950), 9; “United Nations Visiting Mission to Trust Territories in the Pacific, 1953. Report on Western Samoa’ (United Nations, Trusteeship Council, T /1057, 10 June 1953), IO, 21. 13 ‘Select Committee of Legislative Assembly on Control of Western Samoan Public Service’ (Apia, 1952). 14 ibid. 15 AD, 29 June 1949, 165. 16 AD, 21, 22 June 1949, 37-46. 17 Vui Manu’a—AD, 21 June 1949, 23. 18 AD, 21 June 1949, 24-5. 19 J. Helg—AD, 20 June 1949, 20. 20 AD, 23 June 1949, 79-80. 21 AD, 24 June 1949, 96-9; 10 Nov. 1949, 182-7. 22 AD, 15 June 1950, 67-75. 23 ‘Report of the United Nations Visiting Mission to Trust Territories in the

Pacific on Western Samoa’ (United Nations, Trusteeship Council, T/792, 15 Aug. 1950). 8

THE GOVERNMENT AND THE ECONOMY 1 Most of the economic statistics in this chapter are from: Ian Fairbairn, “The National Income of Western Samoa, 1947-58’ (Ph.D. thesis, Australian National University, 1963). Also useful (for the period up to 1945) is: Chamber of Commerce of Western Samoa, Fourteenth Annual Report (Year 1945) (Apia, N.D.). 2 The work of Va’ai Kolone, and the position in Vaisala generally, is usefully

analysed in: J. H. Mercer and Peter Scott, ‘Changing Village Agriculture in Western Samoa’, The Geographical Journal, CX XIV (1958), 347-60. My account

of the work of the Va’ai family and of other Samoan planters also includes material that I collected myself during visits to their plantations over the period concerned. 3 This estimate of working time in rural areas was made by Ian Fairbairn, on the basis of records kept over a period of about a month for members of a fairly large group of families in each of two villages, Taga (in Savai’i) and Poutasi (in Upolu). The research was done between March and June 1961. See Fairbairn, Op. cit., 391-7.

NOTES ASI 4 On this point, see especially Gunnar Myrdal, Economic Theory and UnderDeveloped Regions (London, 1957), chapter 7, passim. 5 Report of the Select Committee of the Legislative Assembly of Western Samoa

on the Preferential Tariff (Government of Western Samoa, Publication No. 1, Wellington, 1950). The report was presented to the assembly on 7 Nov. 1949. 6 ‘Interim Report of the Select Committee of the Legislative Assembly on Samoan Currency’ (Apia, 1950). 7 ibid., 5-6. 8 ‘Departmental Committee on Taxation and Tariffs. Report No. 1: Tariffs’ (Apia, 1954).

9 ibid., Io. 10 ‘Report of the Select Committee of the Legislative Assembly on Samoan Currency’ (Apia, 1952). 11 ‘Report of the Select Committee of the Legislative Assembly on Currency and Banking’ (Apia, 1953).

12 Western Samoa, Financial and Banking Survey, May 1957 (Wellington, 1957), 5.

13 ibid., 35.

14 The bank was constituted by the Bank of Western Samoa Ordinance, 1959.

15 See Western Samoa and Self-Government (Apia, 1953). This booklet consists

of the High Commissioner’s address to the Legislative Assembly, in which the Prime Minister’s statement is incorporated. 16 See ‘Agreement establishing The South Pacific Commission. . . . Entry into force 29th July, 1948’—Australia. Treaty Series, 1948, no. 15.

17 On these various surveys, see: Colin Marshall (with T. S. Thompson), Forestry in Western Samoa (Wellington, 1953); H. G. Duncan, “Labour Conditions in Western Samoa’ (Apia, [1953]); D. H. Urquhart, Cocoa Growing in Western

Samoa . . . (South Pacific Commission, Technical Paper No. 39, [Noumea], 1953); A. J. L. Catt, National Income of Western Samoa. A preliminary estimate for 1952, and recommendations for regular compilation (Noumea, 1955). 18 V. D. Stace, Western Samoa—An Economic Survey (South Pacific Commission, Technical Paper No. 91, Noumea, 1956). 19 Kathleen M. Jupp, Territory of Western Samoa. Report on the Population Census 1956 (Wellington, 1958).

20 Under the Samoa Amendment Act (No. 2), 1956. 21 For an account of the plantation work of the estates, see: D. R. A. Eden and W. L. Edwards, Cocoa Plantation Management in Western Samoa (South Pacific Commission, Technical Paper No. 31, [Noumea], 1952); and D. R. A. Eden, The Management of Coconut Plantations in Western Samoa (South Pacific Commission, Technical Paper No. 48, Noumea, 1953). 22 Western Samoa, Financial and Banking Survey, May 1957 (Wellington, 19$7), II. 23 Report, 1957, 40. 9

DISTRICT AND VILLAGE GOVERNMENT 1 The commission’s terms of reference are printed in DVG, 57-9. 2 RC, 480. 3 RC, 479. 4 For the text of the questionnaire, see DVG, 63-6.

452 SAMOA MO SAMOA 5 W. Somerset Maugham, ‘Mackintosh’, included in Altogether (Collected Edition, London, 1934), 131.

6 The whole of the commission’s record of evidence was mimeographed. Apart from the sets which were retained in Samoa, a few were deposited in libraries overseas. Quotations of statements made at meetings of the commission with the ali’i and _faipule are from this record. 7 Samoa Act, 1921, sec. I7I.

8 “First Report of the Commission to Inquire into and Report upon the Organization of District and Village Government in Western Samoa’ (Apia, 1950).

9 ibid., 15-16. 10 DVG, II-12. 1r DVG, 33. 12 DVG, 35. 13 DVG, 49. 14 Report of the Commission to Inquire into and Report upon the Organization of District and Village Government in Western Samoa (Wellington, 1951); Lipoti Fa’amauina a le Komisi Su’esu’e ma Lipoti mai i le Fa’ amaopoopoga o le Pulea o Itumalo ma Nuw’u i Samoa i Sisifo (Apia, 1952). 1§ See Proceedings of Fono of Faipule, 4-24 June 1952, 1-37.

16 Discussion of the District and Village Government Board Bill and of the report of the select committee is in AD; 1 and 3 Sept. 1952, 129-43, 159-63; 18 Aug. 1953, 29-32; 7, 12, 13, and 1§ Oct. 1953, 226-37, 279-98, 301-13. The statements of speakers specifically cited are at: 3 Sept. 1952, 162 (High Commissioner); 7 Oct. 1953, 226-31 (Attorney-General); and 13 Oct. 1953, 286-7 ( Anapu Solofa).

17 ‘Minutes of the Fourth Meeting of the District and Village Government Board (Ordinary Meeting)’, 8-15 Sept. 1954, 35. (The board’s minutes were mimeographed.) 18 For example, see ibid., 33-4.

19 “The District and Village Government Board. . . . Report for the year ending 31.12.58’, 2.

20 ibid., 3. IO

THE GROWTH OF SAMOAN PARTICIPATION 1951-8 1 AD, 15 March 1954, 2.

2 For a useful analysis of the politics of the period 1951-5 see Mary Boyd, ‘Political Development in Western Samoa and Universal Suffrage’, Political Science, VIII (1956), 44-69.

3 On the conduct of these elections, see: Report, 1951, 9, 18; Report, 1953, 36-7; Report, 1954, 38-40.

4 For example, see a speech by Tofa Tomasi commenting on a statement by the Minister of Island Territories favouring universal suffrage (‘Meeting between the Hon. T. Clifton Webb and the Council of State, the Legislative Assembly and the Fono of Faipule on Thursday, 7th February, 1952’ [Apia, 1952], 28).

5 AD, 2 Sept. 1952, 150-8. 6 On the matter of Samoan and European domestic status, see AD, 26 March 1954, 158-63. Lists of Europeans taking Samoan status were published in the Samoa Bulletin—for example, see the issues for 27 June, 24 Dec. 1952, and 15 Jan. 1954.

NOTES 453 7 The High Commissioner’s speech, incorporating the full text of the Prime Minister’s statement, is published in AD, 18 March 1953, 26-34. This was republished in booklet form as: Western Samoa and Self-Government (Apia, 1953).

8 On the organization and membership of the Constitutional Convention, see Convention, 1954, D, E1-2, F1-4, G. 9 Malu (Convention, 1954, 15 Nov., 32). 10 ‘The recommendations of the Working Committee and resolutions of the Constitutional Convention are most readily accessible in Report, 1954, 224-30. tr Aiono Fatu (Convention, 1954, 30 Nov., 204). 12 Auelua Filipo (Convention, 1954, 26 Nov., 176). 13 Amoa Tausilia (Convention, 1954, 9 Dec., 310-11). 14 To’ala Polu (Convention, 1954, 7 Dec., 281). 15 See Memorandum by C. Taylor, 22 Feb. 1909—DR,, I, 327; also Memorandum by C. Taylor, 28 Feb. 1907, and Governor to Secretary of State, Colonial Office, 12 Dec. 1909—-GCA, 17A2/3. 16 Convention, 1954, 22 Dec., 441-2. 17 An official summary of policy statements and recommendations during 1955 is contained in Western Samoa, Proposals for Constitutional Development (Apia, 1956).

18 See ‘Joint Session of the Legislative Assembly and Fono of Faipule and Meeting with Hon. the Minister of Island Territories. Papers and Proceedings’ (Apia, July 1955). 19 See ‘Joint Session of the Legislative Assembly and Fono of Faipule. Papers

and Proceedings’ (Apia, 25 Feb. 1956). (See also AD, 27 Feb.-1 March 1956, for separate discussion of the policy statement and endorsement of the conclusions of the joint session by the Legislative Assembly.) 20 ibid., 65-6. 21 See ‘Joint Session of the Legislative Assembly and Fono of Faipule, 1956. Papers and Proceedings’ (Apia, 2 May 1956). 22 Samoa Amendment Act, 1956. 23 This included: the Legislative Assembly Regulations, 1948, Amendment No. 3, and the Western Samoa Legislative Assembly Regulations, 1957, both

made in New Zealand; and the Land and Titles Protection Amendment Ordinance, 1957, made in Samoa. 24 See the account of the election of Fatialofa Makisua Faimal6 as member for Lepa in the New Zealand Herald, 18 Sept. 1957. 25 ibid., 19 Sept. 1957. 26 The Western Samoa Development Plan was embodied in a paper presented to the Legislative Assembly on 24 Oct. 1958. 27 AD, 24 Oct., 4 Nov., 7 Nov.-2 Dec. 1958, 816, 905, 945-1183 passim. 28 Tualaulelei (AD, 1 Dec. 1958, 1162).

If THE PREPARATORY STAGE 1958-60 1 See V. P. Menon, The Story of the Integration of the Indian States (London, 1956); V. P. Menon, The Transfer of Power in India (Princeton, 1957); The Constitution of India (As modified up to 1st September, 1951.) (Delhi, 1951).

2 See Maung Maung, Burma’s Constitution (The Hague, 1959). 3 See Ivor Jennings, Constitutional Problems in Pakistan (Cambridge, 1957). 4 See George McTurnan Kahin (ed.), Governments and Politics of Southeast Asia (Ithaca, N.Y., 1959), 195, 352-3. Much earlier, in 1935, a constitutional

454 SAMOA MO SAMOA convention drafted the constitution of the Philippines (see Joseph Ralston Hayden, The Philippines: a Study in National Development (New York, 1942), 32-59).

5 For example, see Report by the Resumed Nigeria Constitutional Conference (Cmnd. 569, London, 1958). 6 For example, see Constitutional Proposals for the Federation of Malaya (Cmnd. 210, London, 1957). 7 For example, see The Ghana (Constitution) Order in Council, 1957. 8 “Paper on Working Committee on Self Government’, Legislative Assembly of Western Samoa. Sessional Paper 1959, no. I, I. g See Maung Maung, op. cit., 84. 10 The mission’s terms of reference are quoted in: ‘Report of United Nations Visiting Mission to Western Samoa, 1959’ (United Nations, Trusteeship Council, T/1449, 21 May 1959), 4-5. 1r For the resolutions adopted at these meetings, see ibid., passim. Minutes

of these meetings (but not a verbatim record), and of meetings between the mission and ‘the Fautua, Members of the Legislative Assembly and Professor J. W. Davidson’, were mimeographed. 12 This quotation is taken from notes which I made at the time. 13 The guarantee is in Article 13, Clause (1). For a statement of the judicial view in support of banishment, see: C. C. Marsack, Samoan Medley (London, 1961), 134.

14 For the text of the draft resolution, see Resolutions, 11-13. 15 Article 33, Clause (2). 16 Article 52; and Article 33, Clause (1). 17 For a detailed analysis of the law relating to domestic status, see Report, 1954, 18-20. 18 Article 44, Clause (1). 19 Second Schedule, Article 2. 20 Draft Constitution of the Independent State of Western Samoa, Article 44, Clause (3). The word *Act’ was later changed to ‘law’. 21 Article 100.

22 For an account of the work of the Land and Titles Court, see: C. C. Marsack, Notes on the Practice of the [Land and Titles] Court and the Principles Adopted in the Hearing of Cases . . . (revised ed., Apia, 1961). 23 Resolutions, ro. 24 Article $4. 25 Article 112.

I2

THE COMMITMENT TO INDEPENDENCE 1960-2 I The Constitutional Convention Ordinance, 1960. 2 Convention, 1960, I, II. 3 ibid., I, 17. 4 ibid., I, 330. 5 ibid., I, 137. 6 ibid., I, 426. 7 ibid., I, 437. 8 Ivor Jennings, Some Characteristics of the Indian Constitution . . . (Madras, 1953), 6, 19.

g Convention, 1960, I, 99-107.

NOTES 455

11 ibid., I, 170-1. 10 ibid., I, 170.

12 See Resolutions, 11-13. 13 Convention, 1960, II, 717-18. 14 ibid., II, 721-2. 15 ibid., II, 725. 16 ibid., II, 733. 17 ibid., I, 235-6. 18 ibid., I, 236-7.

19 On the connection between Telea and S4 Malietod, see C. C. Marsack, Samoan Medley (London, 1961), 184-5.

20 Convention, 1960, I, 247-8. 21 ibid., I, 263. 22 ibid., I, 288-303. 23 ibid., I, 371-86. 24 ibid., I, 420. 25 ibid., II, 781. 26 Resolutions, 15.

27 For a summary of proceedings in the Fourth Committee, see: United Nations, Official Records of the General Assembly Fifteenth Session (Part I), Fourth

Committee, Trusteeship, 483-6, 493-4, 497-509, 541. Quotations from speeches delivered are from copies of the speakers’ own drafts in my possession. 28 Article 117. 29 The Plebiscite and the Constitution (Apia, 1961).

30 For the return by the Chief Returning Officer showing votes cast by registered voters at each polling booth, see: Samoa Bulletin, 31 May 1965. This omits the votes cast by persons who, having failed to register, voted by declaration. These amounted to roughly ten per cent. of the total. As the proportion of

positive and negative answers among these votes was similar to that in the total poll, the omission is unimportant. 31 AD, 19 April 1961, 108.

32 For a summary of proceedings in the Fourth Committee, see: United Nations, Official Records of the General Assembly Sixteenth Session, Fourth Committee, Trusteeship, I, 79-90, 96-7.

13

THE INDEPENDENT STATE OF WESTERN SAMOA 1 Treaty of Friendship between the Government of New Zealand and the Government of Western Samoa, Apia, 1 August 1962 [in force 1 August 1962|—AJHR, 1962, Al2. 2 On the effects of the hurricane, see Samoana, 2 Feb. 1966.

3 ‘Financial Statement by the Minister of Finance (Hon. G. F. D. Betham) tabled 14 July, 1965.’ For a summary of this statement, see Samoana, 21 July 1965.

4 Details of revenue and expenditure for the years 1960-3 (and estimates for 1964) are most readily available in: Steinar Sorbotten, ‘Recommendations on Fiscal Policy in Western Samoa. Draft Final Report’, Legislative Assembly of Western Samoa. Parliamentary Paper 1965, no. 28, 2. 5 For the report on fiscal structure, see note 3, above.

The report on the administration has been produced in two parts entitled, respectively: “Report of H. C. Elvins on the Administrative Arrangements of the Government of Western Samoa 1962 (Part I)’; and ‘Report by H. C. Elvins

456 SAMOA MO SAMOA on the Administrative Survey of Departments of the Government of Western Samoa (Part II)’. Both have been published as papers of the Legislative Assembly (Sessional Paper 1962, no. 33; Parliamentary Paper 1964, no. 10). 6 Report of the Economic Development Committee on Economic Planning for Western Samoa (Apia, 1961).

7 A. Lauterbach and V. D. Stace, ‘Economic Survey and Proposed Development Measures for Western Samoa’ (United Nations, Commissioner for Technical Assistance, Department of Economic and Social Affairs, 8 April 1963). 8 See: AD, 11 July 1963, 106; Samoana, 10, 17 July 1963. 9 See AD, 16 Dec. 1963, 770-1.

For a summary of development to Feb. 1965, see: ‘Information Paper on Harbours Development’, Legislative Assembly of Western Samoa. Parliamentary Paper 1965, no. 8. 10 The Enterprises Incentives Bill, 1963. See AD, 16-22 Oct. 1963, 321-53.

Iz The Constitution Amendment Bill, 1964. 12 The Electoral Act, 1963. 13 See AD, 30 July-2 Aug. 1963, 236-83. For the committee’s report, see: “Report of the Select Committee on Additional Samoan [sic] Electorates’, Legislative Assembly of Western Samoa. Sessional Paper 1963, no. 33. The decision

was implemented by the Territorial Constituencies Act, 1963.

14 ‘Report of the Select Committee appointed to consider the Resolution of the Constitutional Convention regarding the leasing of Customary Land’, Legislative Assembly of Western Samoa. Sessional Paper 1963, no. 39. 1§ See Samoa Bulletin, 17, 24 Sept. 1965.

16 For the results of the election, see: ‘Return relating to the General Elections, 1964’, Legislative Assembly of Western Samoa. Sessional Paper 1964, no. 3.

17 On this episode, see: ‘Report of Select Committee on Petition of the Organisation of Peace’—Legislative Assembly of Western Samoa. Parliamentary Paper 1965, no. 14; Samoa Bulletin, 5, 12 Feb., 5, 12 March, 15 April 1965. 18 On this episode, see; Samoa Bulletin, 24 Dec. 1964; AD, 29 Dec. 1964, 353-4.

19 See C. C. Aikman and J. W. Davidson, ‘Relations between Cabinet and the Legislative Assembly’, Legislative Assembly of Western Samoa. Parliamentary Paper 1965, no. 9.

20 For accounts of his career, see: J. W. Davidson, “Tamasese: Architect of West Samoan Independence’, Pacific Islands Monthly, XX XIII (1962-3), no.

10, 41-7; and “Tumua’ [Alan McKay], “Tupua Tamasese, C.B.E.—Christian Statesman: A Portrait of a Friend’, The Marist Messenger, XX XIII (1963), no. 7, 18-19.

21 For the course of this dispute, see: Samoa Bulletin, 27 Sept., 4 Oct. 1963, 4 Dec. 1964, 15 and 23 April, 7 May, 17 Dec. 1965.

Index A’ana district, 25, 26, 28, 70, 189; position Apia village, 39, 145n.

of Si Tupua in, 33; invasion by sup- Apolima, 121

porters of Sa Malietod; see also Asau, 27, 74, 238, 275-6; port develop-

Leulumoega; Tuia’ana title ment, 420

Adams, Henry, 3-4, 5, 72, 171 Asiata Le Ulupoao, 280-2 A’e’au Taulupo’o, 383-4, 387 Asiata Tuila’epa Lagolago, 71n., 405 Afamasaga Maua, 81, 85-6, 94 Atlantic Charter, 165 Afamasaga Toleafoa Lagolago, 94, 96-7; Atua district, 25, 28, 74; relationship of

commercial interests, IIO-II; association Tutuila with, 24N.; position of Sa with the Mau, 116, 119, 121; resigna- Malietoda in, 26; see also Lufilufi; Tuiatua

tions from the Mau, 134, 141 title

Afega, 26, 27n. Aualuma, 18, 283, 432 Agriculture, 157; plantation, 45, 91, 93, ’Au’uapa’au Simaile, 271 98; Samoan, 17, 68, 78, 254-5, 3425 Se€ * Aymaga, 18-19, 20, 283, 432; see also also Economic policy; Industries; New Taulele’a Zealand Neparation = states; Western Australasian Conference of the Wesleyan

Samoa Trust Estates Corporation Methodist Church, 34n.

Aiga, term defined, 22, 432; see also Australia, trade, 246, 250

yal Austral Islands, 31 Aiga-i-le-Tiai, 26, 44, 86 Autagavai'a Siaupiu, 145, 156, 399 Family structure

Aikman, Colin Campbell, 354, 357-8, 8 pm , 367n., 385-7, 427

Alataua West, 276 Banishment, customary sanction, 20-1, Aleipata, 293-45 313 289; use by Richardson, 121, 122;

Aleisa, 407 attitude of Working Committee on

Ali’i, term defined, 19, 432 Self-Government towards, 369; see also Alii and faipule, see Fono: Village and sub- Samoan Offenders Ordinance, 1922

village Bank of New Zealand, 251-2, 253n.

Alvi Sili, 79-88 passim, 432 Bank of Western Samoa, 252-3;

Allen, James, 98, 100-1, 135n. Ordinance, 253n.; development branch

passim Bark cloth, 18

Allen, Stephen Shepherd, 125n., 132-42 established, 421

American Samoa, I0, 76n., 95, 362 Barracouta, H.M.S., $7

Amiatu, 228 Barff, Charles, 33 Amoa Tausilia, 356n.; Deputy Speaker, Beach, the’, 5

338; Speaker, 409; opinions on land Bell, Francis H. D., 103, 1osn., 135n.

tenure, 392-3, 395, 424 Berendsen, Carl August, 135

’Anapu (1890), widely travelled Samoan, 5 Betham, Gustav Frederick Dertag, M.L.A.,

’Anapu Solofa, 356n.; early career, 227; 188, ra Executive wouncl 319;

Faipule, 227-8; M.L.A., 317; interest in Working Committee on Se ~Governdistrict and village government, 271, ment, 356n.; Minister, 405, 425; critic 311; influence in Sa’anapu, 238, 290; of Government, 225, 340 quoted on plebiscite, 360, and Head of Bethune, Drinkwater, 39

State » 397 ‘Black Saturday’, 137-8, 142

A’opo, 274, 275 Braisby, A. L., 146n., 437

Apia, development as commercial centre, Brandeis, Eugen, 62 37-42 passim; port, 39-40, $8, 420; early Britain, consular representation, 40, 43; administration, 41-2, 47; municipality, naval activity, 51, 62, 66, 67; treaty with 60-I, 63, 65, 74, 77; social and political Samoa, 60; colonial policy, 206-7, 351; conditions, 5, 280, 288, 407; population trade, 246, 250; at United Nations, 404

(1947), IO Brooke, Rupert, 4-5 457

458 SAMOA MO SAMOA Buck, Peter, 16 Customs tariff, 225, 253; select committee, Burma, 350, 355, 358 244-7; departmental committee, 250 Burns, Alan Cuthbert, 232n. Deutsche Handels- und Plantagen-Gesell-

Cakobau, King, of Fiji, $8 schaft, 61-2, 68, 69, 76-7, 81

Campbell-Bannerman, quoted pbell-Bannerman, Henrv. y, quoted, 179 District and village government:

Canada, 246 Structure functions, 16-22,legisla24, 156, , ; 190; judicial,and 286-90, 292-3; Central Medical School, Suva, 202 tive, 278, 284-6; and economic

Central Polynesian Land and Plantation development, 238-9; see also Com-

Company, 46, 48 mittees; Fono; Pulefa’atoaga; Pulenu’u

Chamber of Commerce, 108, 245 Reforms, by Richardson, 106-8, 113,

Chinese, 77, 203; see also, Labour, in- 122, 135, 1§43; 1959 proposals, 342-3;

dentured see also District and Village Govern-

Churchward, W. B., 68n., 71 ment, Commission to Inquire into and Citizens’ Committee, of 1920, 100-1; of Report upon

1926, 116-23 passim, 129, 134; of 1947, District and Village Government, Com-

170, 173, 178, 180, 188 mission to Inquire into and Report

Citizenship of Western Samoa, initial upon, appointed, 263-6, 271; procedure, consideration of problem, 359; legis- 266-70; malaga, 268-77; first report, lation prepared and enacted, 362-3 297-9; final report, 299-308

Coates, Joseph Gordon, 116 District and Village Government Board,

Cobbe, J. G., 140-1, 142 proposed, 296~7; constituted, 309-13; Committees, district and sub-district, 279- P roceedings, 312-15 80, 291-4; village and sub-village, 279, D oidge, F. W., 250

282; women’s, 283-4; see also Finance Domestic status, 220-2, 319, 375-80, Committee; Legislative Assembly—Pro- 42$n.; European, 194; Samoan, 201 cedure; Working Committee (Develop-

ment Plan); Working Committee on

Self-Government Economic policy, of Germans, 77-8; of

Communications, air, 5; radio, 90, 95; Richardson, 104-5, 106, I07, 124; in

road, 241, 278; sea, 45-6, 68, 91, 246 19$08, 240-4, 340-2; since independence, Conference on Samoan Affairs, 63; Final 419-22; Copra Board, 242; Develop-

Act of the, 63-5, 73, 91, 242-3 ment Secretariat, 420-1

Constitution Amendment Act, 1963, 423n. Economist, 415n.

Constitutional Convention, 1954, pro- Edmonds, P. K., 323 posed, 321; preparations, 323; member- Education, 100, 104; attitude of Mau ship, 323-4; proceedings, 324-32, 358 towards, 122, 123, 124; discussed in

Constitutional Convention, 1960, pro- Legislative Assembly, 221, 222-3; posed, 355; constituted, 382; proceed- Director, 219n.; New Zealand scholar-

ings, 382-402 ships, 158-9; Samoan teachers, 202; see

‘Constitution of the Government of also Malua (L.M.S. headquarters);

Samoa’, 174-7, 180 Pastors

Consuls, judicial activity, 42; protection Electoral Act, 1963, 423 of nationals, 47, 50, 73; political inter- Epidemic of 1918, 93-7, 102, 436

vention by, $5, 59, 60-1; see also Evatt, Herbert Vere, 130n. Britain; Germany; United States Exports, see Trade, external

Conway, H.M.S., 39 External relations: Co-operative societies, 258 Treaties

Cook Islands, 31; see also Rarotonga To 1900, see Consuls; ‘Naval Justice’;

Corner, F. H., 400, 402 From 1962, 400-1, 403, 415-17 Cruz-Coke, Eduardo, 181-2

Currency and banking, 225, 251In., 252-3;

select committee, 247-9, 250-1; see also Fa’alata, 80, 87, 329 Bank of New Zealand; Bank of Western = Fa’alava’au Galu, 153n., 339, 356n-

Samoa Fa’ alupega, 17, 24, 70, 432

INDEX 459 Fa’amatuainu Tulifau, member of Local suls, 40-1, and government, 88, 122; government commission, 265-6, 268-9; support evangelization, 34 joins Samoan Democratic Party, 318; Fono of all Samoa, 28; 1946, 165-6; 1948,

Constitutional Convention, 1954, 328; 189

personal qualities, 265-6, 274, 276-7 Fono of Faipule, 11; created, 83-4; effect of

Fa’asaleleaga district, 27, 72; position of 1918 epidemic, 94; retained by New Sa Malietoa in, 26, 31, 42, 44; political Zealand, 100, 103; #JRichardson’s structure, 272, 278-9; administration, development of, 105-8, I12-13, I19-20,

291, 420n. 125; suspended, 135; reinstated, 141;

Fa’atonu, $4n., 145, 153, 154, 432 reorganized, 149, 150; expresses Mau

Fagamalo, 274, 292, 420n. policy, 151-8 passim; procedure, 153,

Faife’au, see Pastors 227-9; selection of members, 11$n., 128, Faipule, 49, 80, 82-3, 84, 432; see also Fono 226-7, 272, 293-4; abolished, 336; see

. ; and procedure

of Faipule; Ta’imua and Faipule also Legislative Assembly—Electoral law

Faipule Election Ordinance, 1939, 1§0n., .; 226, 327, 335n. Fonoti Ioane, 160; Faipule, 159, 317; oe M.L.A., 191, 317; merchant, 159, 255;

Falealili, 26 f ;

. . orms Samoan Democratic Party, 318

Falealupo, 238, 407; traditional political Forbes, George William, 143n.

role, 276; administration, 279-80 Foreion Residents’ Soc;

Faleasi’u, 69, 189, 229-10, oreignPeter, Residents’ Society,in41-2 a » OF, TOD, 229-30, 279 2Fraser, early interest Samoa, 99;

Faleata, 321; West, 314 visits Samoa as Prime Minister, 158-9;

Falefa, 314 sponsors reforms of 1947, 167, 179, 183,

Falelima, 276 187; vacates office, 231-2; role at

Faleto’ese, L. T., 7on. United Nations, 163

Family structure, 22-4, 25, 34, 35-6, 388: Fruit Distributors Ltd, 254n.

innovations, 237, 238, 392; and Futuna, 15

economic development, 235-6, 239 Faolotoi Momo’e, 385

Faumuina Fiamé Mulinu’u, see Mata’afa Gaga’emauga district, 27, 420n.; district

Faumuina Fiamé Mulinu’i I committee, 291-3, 313

Fautua, 432; office created, 88; role under Gagaifomauga district, 27 New Zealand (till 1947), 11, 100, 125-6, | Galuvao Farani, 292, 294 134, 156-7; in Legislative Council, 136; — Gatoaitele title, 26, 28 in political negotiations of 1947, 172-3, Gatoloai Peseta. 228

181-3; in Council of State, 188; political G ome ; t

role after 1947, 190-1, 264, 208, 324-5, ene ee eee ens By.

328, 353, 382; see also Council of State; Me eat. ith S activi % STs » 7; Malietoa Tanumafili II; Tupua Tamasese OT, treaty Wi amoa, 00, governs

Mea’ole Western Samoa, 76-90

8 ie Gilbert Islands, 268 Fiamé Mulinu’t II deff i C 4 Soh Fiji, early contacts with Samoa, 15, 32; Go 5. Le Jo 5 -

government, 9, 98, 207; Central Goodwill mission’, 148-9 .

Medical School, 202; trade, 246 Gordon, Arthur Hamilton-, 59-61 passim,

Fiji Times, 103 7 Fine mats, 18, 25, 106 Gorst, John Eldon, quoted, 147

Fiso colonial,tocharacteristies, 6-9, 180 Eusi Pusl, Government, 397 206-7; transition independence, 349Flags, of Western Samoa, I9I, 410 $2

Flaherty, Robert, 275 Government Council, 77, 90

Fono: GOVERNMENT OF WESTERN SAMOA

290-4 Samoa)

District and sub-district, 24, 26, 40-1, (including Administration of Western Village and sub-village, procedure, 19- Government of Western Samoa, adop-

20, 278-80, 283; relations with con- tion of term, 185

460 SAMOA MO SAMOA Government of Western Samoa—continued service authorities, II, 98, 135, 210,

Independent State of Western Samoa, 21$n.

adoption of term, 381 Public Service Commissioner, office

Head of State, discussed in Constitu- proposed, 184-5; office constituted, tional Convention, 1954, 328-31; 210-12; performance, 212~15, 325-6

New Zealand views, 334; con- Public Service Commission, 214n.,

stitutional provisions, 371-3; dis- 232, 364

cussed in Constitutional Convention, Appeal board, 214 1960, 395-9; Council of Deputies, Officers, expatriate, 123, 124, 168-9,

372-3, 397 201, 225-6; local, 169, 201-3

Administrator, 10, 92, 100; see also Local government, see District and names of successive Administrators village government High Commissioner, office constituted, Grant, Ulysses S., 48, 49, 52 185; functions redefined, 363, 366; see Grattan, F. J. H., 171-2, 207, 208

also Powles, Guy Richardson; _ Griffin, H. S., 115n. Voelcker, Francis William; Wright, Gurau, A. M., 188n., 391

John Bird Gurr, E. W., 130, 135 Council of State, proposed, 182, 184-5; constituted, 185; functions redefined,

3035 membersinp, 188; meetings, Hamburg, 38 Executive government, growth of local Harbour development, 342, 420, 421-2

participation: Hart, Herbert Ernest, 142-6 passim

Executive Council, proposed, 209-10, Hawai, 31, 41, $8 232; established, 319-20; functions Helg, Jacob, 188n.

redefined, 335, 363-4 Hewart, Gordon, ist Baron MHewart,

Associate Members, 333 cited, 163-4 Members, 333, 335 High Commissioner for New Zealand in

Ministers, 335, 339 Western Samoa, 417

Cabinet government, 360, 363-6 Hobbes, Thomas, quoted, 30 Provisions in Constitution, 373-5; Holland, Henry Edmund, 99, torn. discussed in Constitutional Conven- Holland, Sidney George, 187, 256; pro-

tion, 390-I posals for self-government, 320-2

Legislature, see Legislative Assembly; Hutchen, J. W., 117-18 Legislative Council

Advisory bodies, Finance Committee,

149, 155-6; see also District and ;57,,-

Village “Government Board; Fono of le foga, see Fine mats

Faipule liga Pisa, 97, 437

Judiciary, High Court, 149, 154, 227-8: Imports, see Trade, external fa amasino Samoa itiimald, 303; Land India, 404; Constitution, 350, 355, 358, ‘and Titles Court, 227-8, 239, 379-80, 368n., 391; National Congress, 349-50 429; district and village courts pro- Individual voters’ roll, see Suffrage

posed, 302-5 Indonesia, 350, 351-2 Administration: Industries:

Structure, 168, 204-15 Primary, bananas, I0, 242, 254, 259,

Departments, Agriculture, 241-2, 258; 418; cocoa, 10, 77, 237-8, 418;

Broadcasting, 225; Native Affairs, coconut oil, 38, 39, 45; copra, 10, 45, 106, I1§n., 158, 168, 222n.; Prime 78, 124, 242, 418; cotton, 45; forestry, Minister’s, 417; Samoan Affairs, 257, 421; rubber, 77; see also Trade,

201-2, 206-7, 222n., 289; Secre- external

tariat, 168, 207-8, 310; Treasury, Secondary, 10, 235, 240, 243, 421

168, 242; see also Education; Influenza, pneumonic, see Epidemic of Medical services 1918

Legal officers, 207n., 423-4n. Investment, 239-40, 259-60, 418; see also Public service: Industries Relations with New Zealand public _Itit-o-Fa’atoafe, 27

INDEX 461

Itu-o-Fafine, 27n. Elections, 1948, 188-91; 1949 (of Itii-o-Tane, 27n. additional member), 228; 1951, 317; Itii-o-Taoa, 27 1954, 3173; 1957, 336-8; 1961, 404-5; 1964, 425-6 Procedure, 216-18; select committees,

Kamehameha I, of Hawaii, 32 213, 225, 244-9, 310, 410, standing K ~~ceremony, committees, 218, 220, 422; of Speaker, ava, 20; titles, 270n. - Leader G

Keil, J., 336n., 335, 338,333-4, 340; Leader Government weeH.eed 9 ee 388n Business, 335,of339; budget King Movement (Waikato), 147 debates, 218-21, 225-6

Relations with Cabinet, 422-3, 427

Labour, indentured, 47, $6, 77, 93, 98 Legislative Council, 10-11, 12; constituted,

” eee eae ae 100; European membership, elective, Isi 9 wage, IQS, 2373; 257 . ::4 5 103; Samoan membership, nominative,

Labour Party, 148, IS1I-2, 155, 188, 217 135-6, 149, 150, 1$3, 1$4-5; limited role

Labour Party (New Zealand), supports accorded to, 108-9, 155; Richardson’s

colonial self-government, 99, 164; contempt for, II5, 120; use against sympathy with the Mau, 135, 136; Mau, I17, 131; Samoan dissatisfaction policy as Government, 146, 148, 150, with, 127, 177; discusses proposed I§I-2, 160, 166-7; defeat, 187; see also Trusteeship Agreement, 164=§ fraser, Peter; Holland, Henry Edmund; Lei’ataua Tonumaipe’a Tamafaigi, 33

avage, Michael Joseph L : M. K., 60, 69, 71 e Mamea Faleto’ese, Le Mamea Matatumua Ata, 384n. Laking, G. R., 182-3, 185 Leniu Fanene, 386n Lall, Arthur S., 361n.Lepa,»313,3900. 334 La Farge, John, 4

Lalomalava, 69n. Lepea, 139, 145n.; ‘Lepea fono’ (1947), 173

Lambert, S. M., 125n. am a SB XEP nae Lambie, K. R., 219-20 | Lesatele Rapi, 237-8

Land, tenure, 107-8, 235-6, 239, 379-80; Leulumoega, political centre of A’ana, 25, disputes, 78; alienation, 45, 46-7, 48, 50, 26, 86, 189, 230; venue for fono of all

59; Land Use Committee, 258, 259; Samoa, 28; government of Tupua

proposed reforms, 107-8, 369-70, 379n., Tamasese Titimaea at, $9, 61; supports

392-5, 408-9, 424 Tupua Tamasese Lealofi I, 66

Land and Titles Commission, 81, 88n. Leutele Te’o, see Tuatagaloa Leutele Land and Titles Court, see Government of Satele Te’o Simaile

Western Samoa—Judiciary Lewis, George Cornewall, cited, 6

Langstone, Frank, 148-9 Liberal Party (New Zealand), 99

Lano, 68 Lilomaiava title, 27

Lauaki Namulaw’ulu Atamu, 72n. ‘Local Europeans’, community analysed, Lauaki Namulau’ulu Mamoe, 72, 81, 84-7 194-201; early history, 68-9, 81-2;

Lauli’i, 74 economic and political advancement, 93,

Lauofo Meti, see Meredith, M. R. 97, 148, 149, 155, 339; take Samoan

Laupl a 8 Status, 160, 319, 425; attitude 94 independence, 407 towards Lauvi Vainu u, 290 Logan, Robert, 91, 92, 95, 96 Lavea Lala, 271 London Missionary Society, begins work

League of Nations, Tor, 133; 143; Per- in Samoa, 31, 32; organization, 33-73 manent Mandates Commission, 134 political role, 39-45 passim, $0, §2;

Lealaiauloto Aso, 313, 317 social role, 70; see also Malua (L.M.S.

Leauva’a, 264n., 270 headquarters); Pastors LEGISLATIVE ASSEMBLY Lotofaga, 313, 334

374-7 Lotopa, 407

Composition and powers, 185-6, 335-6, Lotofaga, 407 Electoral law and procedure, 186, 189- Luafalealo Kurene, 336

QO, 316-17, 335-6, 423; see also Luafalealo Pesa, 393

Suffrage Luafatasaga Kalapu, 338

462 SAMOA MO SAMOA Luamanuvae Va’aelua Eti, 392-3 138; president of the Mau, 140, 152;

Lufilufi, 25, 26, 66, 406 Supervisor of Native Police, 149-50;

Fautua, II, 156, 172; personal qualities

and family connections, IIo, II§n.,

y, u. » 154 , .

McCormick, C. E., 122 140, 144-5; death, 188 ; a

Macdonald, T. L., 332-3 Mata’afa Faumuina Fiamé Mulinu’t IW,

McKay.C.G.R.1 role in Constitutional Convention, 1954,

Magele le T ilet At 8 g 324, 328, 329, 331; M.L.A., 337-8; Lagatlictoaono file, 303, 3O4n., Minister, 339; Prime Minister, r1on.,

393-4 364-5, 405; role in Constitutional Con-

Malaya, 358, 404 . vention, 1960, 395-8; at United Nations,

Malie, 27n., 270; connection with Sa 402-4, 409-10, 410-11; supports uni-

Ma 2°. 66, 8 86; a versal suffrage, opinions on alietoa, fa , 400 28, 42, position in ead of 328, State,390; 331, 395-6; persona Tuamasaga, 36, in Fa’ssaleleaza, 27, 37; qualities, 365

in Atua, 26; connection Mata’afa contender the kingwitManono, ingship33 ininnineteenth century, ship, 52-3,Iosefa, 59, 62, 65, 73, for ; elected to 52-3, 59, 61, 73; connection of Mata’afa Meljevoa title, 72; Alvi Sil. op: relations Josefa with, 65, 66; Mata’afa Iosefa on, with German administration, 76, 77, ah title, 26, 72; see also Fautua; Head of 79-88 passim; death, 88; meets Henry Malietoa Laupepa, elected to title, 44; | Mata’afa Salanoa, 136, 159

tate Adams, 4

marriage, 11$n.; political career, 46, Matai, 433; authority, 17, 34, 392; 50-65 passim, 72, 73; death, 66; des- election, 22-3, 29-30, 388; disputes, 78;

Mines moe age, 444n. legalMatai’a position,Europa, 375-80; see auetoa IMO, 42 also Suffrage Malietoa Pe’a, see Malietoa Talavou Matai’a Siu, 228, 26 §, 269, 312

Malietoa Taimalelagi, 42, 44n. Mata’utia Fetaui, 392 Malietoa Talavou, 44, 72, 80 Mata’utia Karauna, 138 Malietoa Tanumafili I, declared King of ygata’utia Ueni, 280n.

Samoa, 66-7; political position, c. 1900- ;

10, 79-80, 87, 329; Fautua, 88, 125-6; Matautu (Gaga emauga), 293 M.L.C., 136; supports Toeaina Club, Matautuuta (Vaimauga), 145n. I10; opposes Mau, 141; greets ‘good- Mau, term defined, 86n., 118-19n.

will mission’, 148; death, 156 Mau of Pule, 86-7

Malietoa Tanumafili Il, Fautua, 11, 156, Mau, the (1926-47), 118-46, 179, 212, 227 172; Member of the Council of State, Maudslay, A. P., 60

188; Head of State (jointly with Tupua ay oh ° w S :

Tamasese Mea’ole), 371; Head of State augnam, W. somerset, 273 (as sole holder of the office), 428; public Maulolo, 329 statements by, 308n., 360, 390; see also | Medical services, 104, 107; medical tax

Constitutional Convention, 1954, 1960; unpopular, 123, 124; discussed in

Fautua; Council of State Legislative Assembly, 221; Director of Malietoa Tinai, see Malietoa Taimalelagi Health, 219n.; Samoan medical pracMalietoa Vai’inupd, 33, 35, 42, 44n. titioners, 202, 274, 280, 283, 292, 313;

, 7 dith, M. R., 354

Mals, term defined, 28, 433 see also Epidemic of 1918

Malua (L.M.S. headquarters), 37, 44, 48, Mere nd 35

69, 268 Meredith, S. H., 94, 118

Manono, 26, 33 Messenger of Peace, mission vessel, 31

Manw’a, 24n., $sn., 67, 76n. Methodist mission, 33, 34, $0, 203-4

Manuta Ieremia, 292 Missions, established, 31, 33, 343 absorbed Marist mission, see Roman Catholic into Samoan | society, 33-7; attitudes

a ? towards politics, 38, 41, 43, 87, 140;

TMsston support election of Laupepa to Malietoa

Marsack, C. C., 228n. title, 44n.; attitude towards Steinberger,

Massey, William Ferguson, 92, 98 56, 57; collections, 39, 73; impose Mata’afa Faumuina Fiamé Mulinu’t I, curfews, 285; see also Pastors

association with the Mau, 116, 121, 137, | Mixed-bloods, see ‘Local Europeans’

INDEX 463 Moors, H. J., 96 New Zealand Reparation Estates, 104-5,

Morgan, P. L. M., 384n., 387-8, 400 124, 393; allocation of profits to Mulinw’u, headquarters of Samoan Samoan development, 184, 241; transgovernments, 43, 44, $9, 62; importance ferred to Samoa, 256, 259

to Samoan national sentiment, 74; New Zealand Samoan Defence League, German flag raised at, 76; seat of Alvi 135 Sili, Faipule and Fono of Faipule, 79-88 New Zealand Samoa Guardian, 12§n., 134-5,

passim; New Zealand administration in- 136, 163-4 augurated at, 91; seat of Legislative Nosworthy, William, 116-17, 120-1 Assembly, 216; independence celebra~ Qua Etené Sa’aga, see Sa’aga, Etené

tions at, 410 Nu’, 16, 278, 433

Namulau’ulu Siaosi, 265 O’Brien, James, 148-9 Namulaw’ulu Tivoli, 153n. Orator, see Tulafale Nash, Walter, 165, 184 National Party (New Zealand), 250

Native Regulations (Samoa) Order, 1925, Pago Pago, 37, 39

10§n. Pakistan, 350, 351-2

Native Trade Debts Ordinance, 1925, 222, Paitomaleifi Siaki, 383, 389-90

319 Palauli district, 27, 42, 189; role in the

‘Naval justice’, 40-1, 47, 59, 62, 73 Mau, 130, 145, 156 ‘Navigator Islands’, early name for Palauli village, 27, 74

Samoa, I5 Papa (Palauli), 280-2

Neiafu, 238, 276 Papa (Vaisigano), 278, 407 Nelson, A., and Son, 93 Papua, 392n. Nelson, August, 69 Pastors, education and influence, 37, 203-4; Nelson, Frank Clemens Frederick, 336n., role of pastors families, 69-71, 267-8,

339, 425 392n.; missionary work outside Samoa,

Nel O. F.. and Co. Ltd 203, 268, 392n.; see also Teachers, eison, VU. &., an oO. Ltd, 93, I24 Samoan (L.M.S.) Nelson, Mrs O. F., 319 Paul, Eugene Friedrich, 170, 336n.;

Nelson, Olaf Frederick, early life, 69, 90; M.L.A., 188; Constitutional Convenbusiness career, 93; early attitude to- tion, 1954, 328; Minister and Leader of wards New Zealand administration, 94, Government Business, 339, 341; candi99, 101; M.L.C., 108, 155; leader of the date for Prime Ministership, 364-5;

Mau, 114-57 passim; death, 157; retirement, 405

personal qualities, 109-10, 115-16, 152~3 Petaia, Arorae, 267-8

New South Wales, 31 Petaia family, 69-71, 201-2, 268, 392n.

NEW ZEALAND Petitions, 133, 143, 166

History of relations with Western Pilia’e Leilua Iuliano, 271, 357, 396-7, 424n.

Samoa, interest to I914, 91-2; Ditonu’u, 17, 278, 433 occupies German Samoa, 90-1; Te- pianters’ Association. 108

ceives League of Nations mandate, Plebiscite. 26 ‘

97-8; places territory under United Episcite, 300, 403-4, 405-7 Nations trusteeship, 163-7; sponsors Plowman, Peter, 336n. termination of Trusteeship Agree- Pomare, Maui, 132n. ment, 402-4; signs Treaty of Friend- | Pomare dynasty (Tahiti), 32

ship, 416 Population, 10, 415n.; and economic

Administrative instrumentalities, De- growth, 234, 258

partment of External Affairs (1919), Potopotoga o faletua ma tausi, 18, 283, 433

100, 102, 103, I15, ISI, 209n.; Powles, Guy Richardson, appointed High Department of Island Territories, Commissioner, 192; influence with 208-9, 210, 248; Department of Minister of Island Territories, 209; role External Affairs (1943), 165, 208-9; in Legislative Assembly, 218; interest in

diplomatic mission at Apia, 417 district and village government, 308-9,

Trade, 246 311-12, 342-3; work for attainment of

464. SAMOA MO SAMOA Powles, Guy Richardson—continued Samoa Act, 1921-59: self-government, 316, 320-3, 339-40, Act, 1921, I2, 101; amended, 121n. 353; relinquishes office, 366; personal Amendment Act, 10923, 103; 1938,

qualities, 192, 193 1§0n.; 1947, 185-6; 1949, 211, 228; Pritchard, George, 40 I9SI, 214; 1952, 319; 1953, 25In.; Progressive Citizens’ League, 336 1956, 214; 1957, 335-6; 1959, 252,

Public finance, 80, 158, 242-3, 255, 258, 362-4 418-19; departmental committee, 250ments), General36 roe on Act (and AmendPublic Service Association, 214n. Pule, 26-7, 74, 433; see also Tamua and Samoa Bulletin, 213, 311n., 334

Pule Samoa Constitution Order, 1920, 100

Pulefa’atoaga, 84, 106, 242, 280, 433 Samoa Guardian, 118, 130

Pulemau, 88, 279-80, 433 Samoa Immigration Consolidation Order, Pulenwu, 290, > office created, 80, 84; 1924, I2In.

work with “Village committees, 38-6 Samoa mo Samoa, political slogan, 112, 122 279, 282; position in Richardson’s local Samoa Times, 98, 108-9, 113, 118

government system, 106-7; changed Samoa Traders Ltd, 191 status in Turnbull’s time, 154; proposed Samoa Welfare League, 108

reforms, 302, 314 Samoan Democratic Party, 318, 324, 328

Pulepule, 52 Samoan League, 118; see also Mau, the (1926-47)

Rarotonga, 41 Samoan Offenders Ordinance, 1922, 125, Reform Party (New Zealand), 92, 135 149

Reserve Bank of New Zealand, 251-2 Sapapali'i, 26, 31, 272

Richardson, George Spafford, 102-32 Sataua, 237-8, 407 . ;

passim, 265Jacob, Satupa cisrrict,village, 27; administration, 314 Roggeveen, 15itea atupa’itea 27, 74 Roman Catholic mission, 34, 50, §2, 110, 54 Tupua, see Tupua, family 274-5; influence among ‘local Euro- Savage, Michael Joseph, 148, 150, 154

peans’, 199 Savali, O le, 207, 405

Rowe, Newton A., 113 Sayre, Francis B., 180, 183 Royal Commission (1927), 122, 128-9, Schultz, Erich, 88, 113

132n. Seddon, Richard John, 92

Ryckmans, Pierre, 180-1 Seiuli Iakopo, 390

Settlers, European, traders, 38, 68-9, 81;

, _ acquire land, 45-6; political role, 39-41, Sa aga, Etené, 267-8, 312, 367n. §0-1, $5, 90; see also ‘Local Europeans’ Sa’anapu, §, 238, 290 Seumanutafa Lafaiali’i, 228, 238

Safata, 26 Seumanutafa Pogai, 4 Safotu, 27, 74, 274-5 Shanahan, Foss, 165-6 Safotulafai, poditical centre of Fa asaelcagas Siapo, 18

26, 27, 272; influence in po itics oO Singapore, 358 samoas 28, 74, 86; Taufa’ahau visits, Skerrett, Charles Perrin, 122

Safune, 69, 275 Smyth, A. G., 121, 130, 137, 170 S

Saipan, 87 Society Islands, 31, 48; see also Tahiti | Sala’ilua, 275, 287 Solf, Wilhelm Heinrich, president of Apia

Saleaula, 27, passim, 74, 406 municipality, Governor, 76-88 rly [9 125, 206;67;compared with

Salega, 203 Richardson, 113 Sale’imoa, 279 South Pacific Commission, 256-7;

Salelologa, 420n. Western Samoa joins, 417 Salevalasi, family, 330 South Vietnam, 350, 351-2

Sa Malietoa, see Malietoa, family Stace, Vernon Desmond, 251, 252, 257, Samata, 203, 275 419-20

Samoa, American, see American Samoa Steinberger, Albert B., 48-58 passim

INDEX 465 Stehlin, Edmund, 312 Te’o Simaile, _ See Tuatagaloa Leutele

Stevens, C. E., 57-8 Satele Te’o Simaile Stevenson, Robert Louis, 4 Te’o Tuvale, 70, 81n., 85-6, 437 Stout, Robert, QI-2 Toeaina Club, IIO-II

Stowers, Amando, President of Labour Toelupe, 96-7 ' _

Party, 148n.; M.L.C., 155, 170; M.L.A. Tofa Tomasi, role in political negotiations

188; spokesman for poorer ‘local of 1947, 172-3, 174; M.L.A., 189-90,

Europeans’, 195, 221; views on public 191, 217, 220, 317; member of local finance, 219, and education, 222-3 government commission, 264-5, 299,

Stowers, John, 68-9 308n.; opinions on finance, 219, 225-6, Stowers, W. E., 188n. and education, 223; personal qualities, Suffrage, European, 155, 188; individual 229-30; death, 317. voters’ roll, 376-8, 388-9; Samoan, 226, Tofilau Siosé, 265, 312 335-6; in territorial constituencies, 376, | Tokelau Islands, 15

426; Samoan thinking on, 318-19, Toleafoa Lagolago, see Afamasaga

326-7, 328, 389-90, 424; New Zealand Toleafoa Lagolago views on, 333 Tolo, 84 Suisala, 292, 293, 294 Toluono Lama, associate member of local

government commission, 271; District

— and Village Government Board, 312;

Tafaifa, status and eligibility, 28-9; leading conservative in Constitutional

Malietoa Vai’inupd gains, 33, 42; nine- Convention, 1954, 1960, 329, 394-5, teenth-century attitudes towards, 41, 43, 399 $3; Tupua Tamasese Titimaea seeks, 62 Tonga, early contacts with Samoa, 15, 28,

Tagaloa, title, 27 72; spread of Methodism from, 31, 33, Tagaloa Siaosi, 383, 384n. 34; develops modern form of govern-

Tagaloa Taloaina, 228 ment, 48, 58; Faipule study land tenure Tahiti, 31; kingdom of, 32, 58 system, 107; Tongan relationship with Ta’imua, 47-52 passim; in German times, Britain seen as model for Samoa, 163,

80, 82-3, 85; see also Ta’imua and 166, 325

Faipule Tonumaipe’a, family, 276; title, 27

Ta’imua and Faipule, 50, 58-60 passin, To’omata Lilomaiava Tua, Faipule, 159, 433; functions, 53-5; depose Malietoa 190, 227; success as trader and planter,

Laupepa, 57; lose authority, 74 203; associate member of local govern-

Frederick Minister, 339

Taisi, 11S, 144, 155; see also Nelson, Olaf ment commission, 271; M.L.A., 317;

Ta ita’i itu, 80, 83 Trade, external, early, 31-2, 38; developTalune, ship, 93-4, 95 ment, 1900-12, 89; during First World Tama Giga, 433; rivalries between, 61, 72, War, 93; 1919-45, 102, 142, 157-8; 428; political role, 80, 133, 324; and 1945-61, 234-5, 242, 244-9, 254, 255; office of Head of State, 175, 329-31, 388, since independence, 418 397; role of Mata’afa F.F.M. II, 337-8, Treaties, 60, 63-4, 416

429; see also Fautua “Tuaefu’, 150, 176

Tama fafine, 23-4, 71, 433 Tuala Tulo, M.L.C., 153n., 155; M.L.A., Tamasoali’i, title, 26, 28, 429 I91, 317; member of local government

Tamihana, Wiremu, 147 commission, 264-5, 269, 271; death,

Tapusoa Peni, 387, 397 317n.; career and personal qualities, 191,

Tate, Robert Ward, 96, 101-2 265 _ Taufa’ah. u, 72 Tualaulelei Mauri, M.L.C., 159; opinions Taulele’'a 282-3; see also ’Aumaga on attainment of self-government, 170,

177-8; M.L.A., 189, 191, 317; Executive Taup ou,?149 Council, 319; role in Constitutional

Taxation, see Customs tariff; Public Convention, 1954, 320; Minister, 339;

Finance Working Committee on Self-Govern-

Teachers, Samoan (L.M.S.), 36, 37; ment, 356n.; cand:date for Prime support Steinberger, 48; see also Pastors Ministership, 364-5; el2ctoral defeat and

Telea Fasi, 396-7 death, 404-5

466 SAMOA MO SAMOA Tuamasaga district, 26, 28, 74; position of |Tupua Tamasese Lealofi II, 110n. Sa Malietoa in, 26, 44, 86; see also Malie Tupua Tamasese Lealofi III, elected to

Tuamotu Archipelago, 31, 38 title, 110; treatment by Administration,

Tuasivi, 95-6 125, 139; leader of the Mau, 131-4, 137; Tuatagaloa Leutele Satele Te’o Simaile, death, 138

Faipule, 227; M.L.A., 317; Executive Tupua Tamasese Lealofi IV, 429 Council, 319; role in Constitutional Typua Tamasese Mea’ole, elected to title,

Convention, 1954, 329-30; Minister, 141; active in the Mau, 141, 144-S; 339; Working Committee on Self- President of the Mau, 152; M.L.C.,

Government, 356n. 1§5; Fautua, II, 156, 157; role in Tufuga Efi, 429 political negotiations of 1947, 164-5,

Tufuga Fatu, 238; M.L.A., 317; Minister, 173-4, 183; Member of the Council of

405 State, 188; role in Executive Council,

Tufutafo’e, 276 340; Head of State (jointly with Malietoa

Tuia’ana title, origin and status, 25, 28; Tanumafili II), 371, 428; opinions on connection of major lineages with, education, district and village govern-

11sn., 397; held by Tupua Tamasese ment, and religion, 223, 299, 392; Titimaea, 59; purported election of eligibility for the title of Tuia’ana,

Tufuga Efi, 429 397n.; death, 428; personal qualities,

Tuiatua title, origin and status, 25, 28; I 52, 428; see also Constitutional Conconnection of major lineages with, 397; vention, 1954, 1960; Fautua; Head of

purported election of Tupua Tamasese State Lealofi IV, 429 Tupua Tamasese Titimaea, 59, 61-2, 65, 66,

Tuilagi Fetii, 265, 268-9 73

Tuimaleali’ifano, family, 87; title, 115n. Turnbull, Alfred Clarke, 150, 151, 154

Tuimaleali’ifano Si’u, nominated by ‘Tutuila, Io, 24n., 55, 67, 76n.; see also Mata’afa Iosefa to succeed as Ali’i Sili, American Samoa

87; political position c. I910, 329; Fautua, 125-6; joins Mau and dismissed

as Fautua, 134; member of Mau, 137, Ulualofaiga Talamaivao V., 384, 390, 397 138, 140, 145; reappointed Fautua, 149; United Citizens’ Party, 188, 217

death, 150 a. United Nations, Trusteeship Agreement

Tuimaleali’ifano Suatipatipa, member of for Western Samoa, 163-7; Special Constitutional Convention, 1954, 1960, Mission, 167, 179-85; Visiting Missions,

324, 329, 382, 396; eligibility for the 213, 231-3, 335, 359-61; Trusteeship

title of Tuia’ana, 397n., 429 Council, 167, 231, 244-5, 250; Fourth

Tuimanu’a title, 76n. Committee considers termination of Tulafale, 19, 20, 433 Trusteeship Agreement, 402-4, 409-10; Tulafale ali’i, 19, 433 Western Samoa decides not to join, 404,

and Pule see also Plebiscite . -

Tiimua, 26, 27n., 74, 434; see also Tamua 415; technical assistance from, 419-20;

Tumua and Pule, traditional role of, 26-7, uted Nations rconomic Commission 28, 29, 85; role in nineteenth century, OF fasia an the Par Last, 417 43-4, 61; German attitude towards, 77, United Party (New Zealand), 135 80, 82-3, 87; role in the Mau, 130, 133, | United States, Exploring Expedition, 39; 145; declining influence, 84, 175, 388, consular representation, 40, 43, 57, 95;

397, 399-400; survival of sense of re- naval activity, 52, 62, 67; treaty with

sponsibility, 329-31 Samoa, 60; attitudes of State Depart-

Tupu, 28, 434 ment and Congress, 48, 51; trade, 246;

Tupua, family, position in A’ana and forces in Second World War, 157, Atua, 2s, 28, 33; in Savai’i, 27; con- 284-5; see also American Samoa nection with kingship in nineteenth U.S.S.R., 404 century, $2-3, 59, 61, 73; Mata’afa Usu Tevita, 238, 239 Josefa on, 87; connection of Taisi with, Uvea, 15, 32 115; see also Fautua; Head of State Tupua Tamasese Lealofi I, 66, 80, 82, 329;

Fautua, 88; death, 110 Va’aelua Petaia, 69-70, 7In.

INDEX 467 Va’ai family, 236-8, 407 Western Samoa Trust Estates Corporation, Va’ai Kolone, 237, 271, 312, 328 259, 340, 421

Va’ai Ropati Sale’imoa, 236, 237 Whaling, 32, 37-8

‘Vailima’, 4, 5, 176 Wilkes, Charles, 39

Vaimauga, 317n., 321 Williams, John, 31, 33, 38 Vaimoso, 280n.; important centre of the Williams, Joan Chauner, 38, 40, 43, 46 Mau, 139, 144, 145n., 148, 149, 153 Walliams, Ruchard, 77, 88-9, 92, 236, 273

;. osWilson, W.W.E., Woodward, H.,311 117, 129

Vaisala, 236, 407

Vaisigano district, 27, 236, 276 . Vajusu, 86 Working Committee (Development a1usu, Plan), appointed, 323; recommendaVerschaffelt, P., 215n. tions, 325-8 Voelcker, Francis William, Adminis- Working Committee on Self-Governtrator, II, 159; High Commissioner, ment, appointed, 353-4; members, 188 ; relinquishes office, 192, political 355-73 procedure, 355, 359, 361-2; views, 172, 173, 182; role in election prepares Draft Constitution, 366-81; of Samoan M.L.A.’s, 190; promotes role in Constitutional Convention, 387 road _ construction, 241; personal world Health Organization, 417

qualities, 168, 171 World War, First, 90-3; Seeond, 157-9

Wright, John Bird, 208n.; Treasurer,

Ward, Joseph George, 135 Secretary-Treasurer, 205; Secretary to

Webb, T. Clifton, 332 the Government, 208; Secretary of weber, ber Theo dore. 46 Island Territories, 332-3; 366; High Com, missioner of Western Samoa, High

Wesleyan Methodist Missionary Society, Commissioner for New Zealand in 31, 34n.; see also Methodist mission Western Samoa, 417; personal qualities,

Western Samoa Mail, 153 205-6