Yet this global diplomatic posture raises a critical question: how credible is Indonesia’s claim to peace leadership while a prolonged humanitarian crisis continues in West Papua?

In late February 2026, Prabowo offered Indonesia’s services to mediate rising tensions involving the United States, Israel and Iran, even stating he was prepared to travel to Tehran if both parties agreed to dialogue.

The message was reinforced when former Indonesian vice-president Jusuf Kalla met Iran’s ambassador, Mohammad Boroujerdi, on 3 March 2026 to reiterate Indonesia’s readiness to facilitate diplomatic engagement.

In response, Iran publicly welcomed the gesture but tempered expectations.

Iranian officials insisted that any meaningful mediation must include condemnation of US and Israeli military actions, warning that diplomatic initiatives without political clarity may have limited effectiveness.

The exchange highlighted both Indonesia’s aspiration to play a larger diplomatic role and the complexities of international conflict mediation.

Peacebroker limitations
However, Indonesia’s attempt to position itself as a global peace broker has already faced significant limitations. In 2023, Prabowo proposed a peace plan for the war between Russia and Ukraine.

The proposal, which included controversial suggestions such as a demilitarised zone and a referendum in disputed territories, was quickly rejected by Ukrainian officials. The response exposed the limited influence of Indonesia’s mediation efforts in conflicts far beyond Southeast Asia.

While presenting himself internationally as a peacemaker, critics argue that Prabowo has largely paid lip service to human rights at home, particularly regarding the unresolved crisis in West Papua.

Indonesian protesters denounce US link over Iran war         Video: Al Jazeera

While Indonesia promotes its diplomatic role in international conflicts, violence and instability continue to affect civilians in West Papua.

On 11 February 2026, only weeks before Prabowo’s international mediation initiative gained attention, a small civilian aircraft operated by Smart Air came under gunfire shortly after landing at Korowai Batu airstrip in Boven Digoel, West Papua.

A spokesperson linked to the military wing of Free Papua Movement (TPNPB- OPM) later claimed responsibility for the attack, stating that the aircraft had allegedly been used to transport Indonesian security forces.

The roots of the crisis stretch back to the early 1960s, when Indonesia invaded and took control of the territory following the withdrawal of Dutch colonial administration.

Act of Free Choice controversy
The subsequent 1969 referendum, known as the Act of Free Choice, remains one of the most controversial political processes in modern Southeast Asian and South Pacific history.

Rather than a universal vote, approximately 1025 selected representatives voted under significant political and military pressure.

Many Papuans and international observers argue that the process failed to meet internationally recognized standards for self-determination. As a result, the legitimacy of the referendum continues to be contested, and its legacy remains a central grievance fueling decades of political resistance and armed conflict.

For many analysts and human rights advocates, the Papua conflict cannot simply be framed as a domestic security problem. Instead, it represents a protracted humanitarian and political crisis that has yet to find a comprehensive and inclusive resolution.

In this sense, the issue has become what some observers describe as a long-standing wound within the Indonesian state.

Such incidents highlight the tragic reality faced by ordinary Papuans, who often find themselves caught between military operations and Papuan resistance attacks.

Civilians bear the brunt of a conflict that has persisted for decades without meaningful political dialogue capable of addressing its underlying causes.

Rising internal displacement in West Papua
According to reports by human rights organisations and humanitarian groups, displacement in West Papua has increased significantly in recent years.

The number of internally displaced persons (IDPs) has risen dramatically, from roughly 55,000 at the end of 2023 to more than 103,000 by October 2025. Many displaced communities face severe shortages of food, healthcare, education, and basic security.

These figures reflect a broader systemic failure to protect civilians and provide sustainable solutions for affected communities. Despite decades of development initiatives and official rhetoric emphasising stability and prosperity in Papua, the lived reality for many residents remains defined by insecurity and displacement.

Prabowo’s own military history also continues to shape international perceptions of Indonesia’s human rights record. During the Indonesian occupation of East Timor between 1975 and 1999, Prabowo served as an officer in Indonesia’s elite special forces, Kopassus.

Human rights organisations have linked him to operations accused of abuses against civilians during that period.

Following the 1999 referendum that ultimately led to East Timor’s independence, the United Nations supported investigations into violence carried out by Indonesian-backed militias and security forces.

Although Prabowo was never tried or convicted by an international court, activists and some Timorese leaders have long argued that senior Indonesian officers should have faced deeper scrutiny.

Shaping of credibility
In international diplomacy, credibility is often shaped not only by external initiatives but also by a state’s domestic human rights record. When internal conflicts remain unresolved, claims to global moral leadership can face heightened scrutiny.

Prabowo was also involved in military operations in Papua during the 1990s. One of the most widely discussed incidents was the 1996 Mapenduma hostage crisis in the highlands of what is now Nduga Regency.

Human rights organisations have documented allegations of abuses committed by Indonesian security forces during that period.

Additional controversies have surrounded claims that aircraft bearing the emblem of the International Committee of the Red Cross were misused during operations. Such allegations, whether proven or not, continue to raise questions about adherence to international humanitarian law and contribute to lingering distrust among Papuan communities.

Taken together, these historical and contemporary dynamics create a sharp contrast between Indonesia’s global diplomatic ambitions and the unresolved realities within its own borders.

In international diplomacy, credibility is closely tied to domestic consistency.
It is difficult to advocate peace abroad while unresolved grievances and allegations of human rights violations persist at home.

For Indonesia, genuine leadership in global peacemaking would require more than diplomatic offers on the world stage. It would involve confronting the deeper structural issues underlying the conflict in West Papua.

Ensuring accountability
This would include ensuring accountability for past abuses, protecting civil liberties, and opening inclusive political dialogue that allows Papuans to meaningfully participate in shaping their own future.

Without such reforms, Indonesia’s peace diplomacy risks being perceived less as principled international engagement and more as a form of strategic public relations. The gap between Jakarta’s diplomatic rhetoric and the lived experiences of Papuan civilians remains stark.

Ultimately, Indonesia’s credibility as a global peacemaker will depend not only on its willingness to mediate conflicts abroad but also on its ability to address the long-standing humanitarian and political crisis within West Papua.

Until that gap is bridged, Indonesia’s aspirations for global diplomatic leadership will continue to face serious questions about legitimacy and moral authority.

The continued instability in West Papua also has broader regional implications for the Pacific, where several governments and civil society groups have increasingly raised concerns about the humanitarian situation faced by indigenous West Papuans.

Ali Mirin is a West Papuan from the Kimyal tribe in the highlands bordering the Star Mountains region of Papua New Guinea. He holds a Master of Arts in international relations from Flinders University in Adelaide, South Australia.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

West Papuan diaspora, academics, students and community activists warmly applauded the screening of the new investigative documentary, Pesta Badi (Pig Feast): Colonialism in our Time, in its pre-launch international premiere in New Zealand last night.

It was shown for the first time back in West Papua at the southeastern town of Merauke, which is centred in the vast denuded rainforest area featured in the film, and also in the capital Jayapura on Friday.

Dramatic footage of scenes of village resisters against the massive destruction of rainforest in one of the three largest “lungs of the world”, shipping of barge-loads of heavy machinery, vast swathes of forest scoured out for rice and palm oil plantations, and of a traditional “pig feast” — the first in a decade — gripped the audience from the opening minute.

This is the largest forest conversion project in modern history — turning 2.5 million ha of tropical forest into industrial plantations under the guise of “food security” and the “energy transition”.

“It is a powerful film, rich with data and stories drawn from the lived experiences of masyarakat adat [Indigenous people],” comments Dr Veronika Kanem, a New Zealand-based Papuan academic and researcher, who was at the premiere with a group of her students.

“The film is also grounded in research conducted by Yayasan Pusaka, along with other national and local organisations.” She is pleased that her home village Muyu is featured in the film.

The audience was also treated to Q&A session with the film director, Dandhy Dwi Laksono and producer Victor Mambor, an award-winning investigative journalist and founder of Jubi Media, who first visited New Zealand 12 years ago.

Documented collusion
Investigative filmmaker Laksono gained a reputation for his 2019 documentary Sexy Killers, released just before the Indonesian general election year and documented the collusion between the political establishment and the destructive coal mining industry.

He was arrested later that year over tweets he posted about state violence in Papua.

Laksono and Mambor, along with co-director Cipri Dale, make up a formidable investigative team.

The storytelling focuses on the experiences of five Papuans and their communities:

Yasinta Moiwend was startled when, on a quiet morning, a massive ship docked at her village pier. The vessel carried hundreds of excavators and was escorted by military forces.

It was the first convoy of 2000 heavy machines to arrive in Papua under a National Strategic Project for food production, palm-based biodiesel, and sugarcane bioethanol.

Yasinta, a Marind Anim woman in Merauke, never realised that her village had been chosen as the ground zero for what would become the largest forest conversion project in modern history.

Vincen Kwipalo, from the Yei community, was likewise shocked when his clan’s land was suddenly marked with a sign reading: “Property of the Indonesian Army.” Only later did he learn that the land had been seized for the construction of a military battalion headquarters, at the very moment when a sugarcane plantation company was also encroaching on his ancestral forest.

Red Cross Movement
Threatened by the same project, Franky Woro and the Awyu community in Boven Digoel erected giant crosses and indigenous ritual markers on their land.

Known as the Red Cross Movement, this form of resistance has spread among Indigenous groups across South Papua.

More than 1800 red crosses have been planted to confront corporations and the military—both physically and spiritually. Though a Christian symbol is central to the movement, local Church pastors condemned it as not part of the church.

Dr Kanem says the film could have explored why the Awyu and Marind people chose to use the red cross, a symbol strongly associated with Christian values?

“Why did they not use their own cultural attributes or symbols instead?” she adds.

Laksono says: “Pig Feast combines detailed field recordings with in-depth research to examine the power structures behind the operation.

“It exposes how government and corporate entities — collaborating with military and religious groups — advance international and national goals of ‘food security’ and ‘energy transition’ at the expense of Indigenous communities and landscapes.”

Multinational corporations
The documentary illustrates the networks of Indonesian elites, oligarchs, and multinational corporations that benefit from the project, providing a vivid depiction of the political ecology of Indonesian governance in Papua.

Pig Feast reveals how the system of colonialism remains intact today.

Asked at the screening how dangerous was the film making, Mambor described the hardships their small crew faced to “find the truth” under the noses of the Indonesian military.

He said they walked up to 17 km a day at times to get the exclusive footage obtained for the documentary.

International journalists are banned from West Papua and a 2019 resolution by the Pacific Islands Forum calling for the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights to visit West Papua to investigate allegations of human rights abuses has been ignored by Jakarta.

The film reveals how 10 companies — all owned by one family — gained the backing of three presidents.

The Jhonlin Group, owned by oligarch Andi Syamsuddin Arsyad (aka Haji Isam), ordered about 2000 excavators from Chinese company SANY, considered one of the largest orders of its kind in the world, to clear one million hectares.

‘Second thoughts’ on Gaza
Q&A moderator Dr David Robie, deputy chair of the Asia Pacific Media Network (APMN), notes the massive military involved in the operations in West Papua — as shown in the film — and how Israel has been counting on Indonesia forming “the backbone” of the planned “International Stabilisation Force” for the besieged Palestinian enclave of Gaza with about 8000 troops because of its experience in “suppressing rebellion”.

“However, since the start of the US-Israeli war on Iran it seems that Jakarta has now had second thoughts,” he said.

Indonesia has suspended all discussions on the so-called “Board of Peace” initiative launched by US President Donald Trump, citing the military escalation in the Middle East, reports Anadolu Ajansi.

Critics had argued that joining a council led by the Trump administration could undermine Indonesia’s longstanding support for the “free Palestinian” cause.

Indonesia’s Ulema Council, the country’s top Islamic scholar body, had also called for an immediate withdrawal from the Trump initiative.

The filmmakers and documetary will now go to Australia for screenings in Sydney, Melbourne and hopefully Brisbane.

West Papua updates
Earlier in the day, at a two-day West Papua Solidarity Forum at the University of Auckland, several speakers gave updates and an analysis on political and social developments in the repressed Melanesian region.

Among speakers were Papuan environmental campaigner for Pusaka Dorthea Wabiser, longtime Aotearoa and West Papua human rights campaigner Maire Leadbeater, Papuan cultural advocate Ronny Kareni , Hawai’ian academic Dr Emalani Case, Ngaruahine researcher Dr Arama Rata, PNG academic at Waikato University Nathan Rew, West Papuan scholar Kerry Tabuni, Green Party Pacific peoples and foreign affairs spokesperson Teanau Tuiono, and forum organiser Catherine Delahunty of the West Papua Action Tāmaki Makaurau and West Papua Action Aotearoa.

Viktor Yeimo, international spokesperson of the KNPB (National Committee for West Papua) and PRP (Papuan People’s Petition), and several Papuan community spokespeople shared messages by video link.

Yeimo spoke about how many students, activists, journalists, church leaders and communities of faith in West Papua faced risks when they spoke about justice and political rights.

“To ignite a large log, one must first find many small pieces [kindling],” he said. “Each piece alone cannot produce a great fire, but together they create enough heat to ignite something much larger.”

He said one pathway involved meaningful political reform within Indonesia, including stronger protection of Indigenous rights and genuine regional autonomy.

Another pathway involved inclusive political dialogue between the Indonesian government and legitimate representatives of Papuan society, like ULMWP (United Liberation Movement of West Papua).

A third pathway existed within international law, “it is the possibility of a self-determination process supervised by an international institution [such as the United Nations].”

He pointed to the progress of the self-determination processes of Bougainville and Kanak New Caledonia for example.

Yeimo said Papuans wanted to build a Pacific future “grounded in justice and solidarity”.

A Papuan rapper spoke on screen saying he wasn’t afraid of the repression of authorities, “but they seem to be afraid of me and my music.”

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

The All Blacks have their first coach of Pasifika heritage.

Dave Rennie has been given the job, replacing the ousted Scott Robertson.

Rennie’s Cook Islands heritage comes via his mother, who hails from Titikaveka on Rarotonga, and Rennie even played a non-test match for the country in 1990.

Asked about his heritage in his first press conference as All Blacks head coach, he paid tribute to his mother’s legacy.

“She was hardworking, inspirational and . . . she had a massive impact on me and my brothers and sisters. I know she’d be really proud,” Rennie said.

“I’m honoured to represent the Cook Islands.”

Congratulations have come in from near and far, with Cook Islands Prime Minister Mark Brown, calling Rennie’s appointment a powerful moment for young Cook Islanders.

“As a son of Takitumu he carries our Cook Islands heritage with him,” Brown wrote on social media.

‘Powerful moment’
“As patron of the Cook Islands Rugby Union, I know how powerful this moment is for our young players. When they see one of our own standing at the helm of the All Blacks they see what is possible.”

Wellington Samoa Rugby Union president Leiataualesa Ken Ah Kuoi said it was time a Pacific person was recognised at the very top level.

Leiataualesa said as a Pacific person in the Aotearoa rugby space he was very proud.

“Of course it will have an impact, a huge impact, to players [and] administrators of rugby,” he said.

“We talk about diversity in rugby in New Zealand and this is a clear message that a Pacific person can do the job.”

Dave Rennie will take up the role in June, with his first assignment in July when the All Blacks host France, Italy and Ireland for three tests in New Zealand.

‘Fair bit of diversity’
When asked in Wednesday’s press conference if his connection with Pasifika players was an important part of what he did, Rennie said having a connection with all the players is important.

“We’ve got a fair bit of diversity within the group and I think the ability to celebrate that is important.”

The 62-year-old former Chiefs coach and coach of the Wallabies said he’s “really clear” on how he wants the team to play.

“We have a lot of talent here,” he said.

“Coaching the All Blacks is an incredible honour. I’m extremely proud to have been entrusted with this role and understand the expectations that come with it.”

This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

A new documentary film on the devastating “ecocide” happening in West Papua will be screened at a weekend solidarity forum in Auckland Tāmaki Makaurau this weekend.

The 90m feature film, Pesta Babi (“The Pig Feast”) — Colonialism In Our Time, produced by award-winning Papuan journalist Victor Mambor and directed by Dandhy Dwi Laksono, tells a story about the impact of the Indonesian government and military on the lives of thousands of Papuans trying to protect their rainforests from destruction.

It also relates the plight of thousands of internal refugees in the Melanesian region.

The peaceful resistance of local communities is revealed in the documentary as they face up to 54,000 Indonesian troops and large corporate entities make big profits at the expense of an ancient culture.

Dorthea Wabiser of the environmental and human rights group Pusaka, will speak on the deforestation and displacement of communities in the south-eastern district of Merauke  where Indonesia is destroying 2.5 million ha of rainforest for palm oil, sugar cane, biodiesel, rice and other crops.

Military force is deployed to silence any dissent from communities.

Pesta Babi (The Pig Feast).                              Trailer: Jubi Media

Solidarity group hosts
The solidarity group West Papua Action Aotearoa with West Papua Action Tāmaki are hosting the two-day public forum on March 7 and 8 with the speakers from West Papua including environmental champions and filmmakers who operate in militarised zones at considerable risk to their personal safety.

Also, a media talanoa featuring Jubi Media founder Victor Mambor and others will be hosted by the Asia Pacific Media Network (APMN) at the Whānau Community Centre and Hub on March 9.

“The forum is an important event with a number of speakers and filmmakers from West Papua telling the hidden stories of the Indonesian occupation of their country,” said organiser Catherine Delahunty.

The climate impact of their destruction was incredibly serious as was the use of the military to enforce an end to traditional life, food sources, and forests, she said in a statement.

“These people are our Pacific neighbours with a devastating story to tell that our government and others across the world have chosen to ignore,” she said.

“They have a right to come here and to be heard despite the media bans in Indonesia and the desire of successive New Zealand governments to ignore structural genocide in our region.

NZ citizen kidnapped
“Only when a NZ citizen was kidnapped by Papuan soldiers did the government show any interest in West Papua, and this quickly faded once he was safely released thanks especially to West Papuan efforts.”

Other speakers at the forum include veteran activist and writer Maire Leadbeater, Green MP Teanau Tuiono, Hawai’an academic Dr Emalani Case, journalist and author Dr David Robie, Dr Arama Rata of Te Kuaka, and PNG academic Dr Nathan Rew.

• Forum Day One (public sessons), Saturday, March 7:  Old Choral Hall, University of Auckland, 7 Symonds St,  9am–4pm.
• World Premiere of “Pesta Babi” (The Pig Feast) documentary with Q&A – The Academy Cinema, Lorne St, CBD (below the Auckland Public Library), March 7, 6-8.30pm.
• Forum Day Two (solidarity development), Sunday, March 8: The Taro Patch, 9 Dunnotar Rd, Papatoetoe.
• Media Talanoa, Monday, March 9: “Kōrero with Victor Mambor: West Papua: Journalism as Resistance” – Whānau Community Centre and Hub, 165 Stoddard Rd, Mt Roskill (Next to Harvey Norman), 6-8pm.
• Further information: Catherine Delahunty, West Papua Action Tāmaki and West Papua Action Aotearoa. Tel: 021 2421967

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

A Solomon Islands academic says the US and Israel illegal bombing of Iran is “deeply alarming” and the Pacific region does not need “more global instability”

US President Donald Trump warned yesterday that Operation Epic Fury against Iran — “one of the largest, most complex, most overwhelming military offensives the world has ever seen” — will continue until all of Washington’s objectives are achieved.

The US military says it has sunk a dozen Iranian warships and is “going after the rest” in attacks which Trump said have killed 48 top Iranian leaders, including Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.

Six American service members have also been killed and five seriously injured.

At least three Pacific Island governments have advised their nationals stuck in the Gulf region to remain calm and leave when it is possible to do so.

The joint US-Israeli strikes — and Iranian retaliation — have turned international law on its head, according to some experts.

Reacting to the conflict, Solomon Islands National University’s vice-chancellor Dr Transform Aqorau said the Pacific must remain an “ocean of peace”.

‘Deeply alarming’
“The escalating conflict between the United States, Israel, and Iran is deeply alarming,” he wrote in a Facebook post yesterday.

“Missiles are flying. Civilians are dying. Oil tankers have reportedly been hit. The Strait of Hormuz — one of the world’s most critical oil routes — is now closed.

“Some leaders speak of success. But war never has winners. The real cost is paid by ordinary people.

“And the Pacific will not be immune,” he wrote.

He said if oil supplies from the Gulf were disrupted, global fuel prices would surge.

“For Pacific Island countries — heavily dependent on imported fuel — this means higher electricity costs, more expensive transport, rising food prices, and increased cost of living.

“Our already fragile economies could face another severe external shock.”

Struggling with issues
Dr Aqorau said the region was struggling with a myriad of issues, including climate change, rising sea levels, drug problems, mental health pressures, youth unemployment, diabetes, slow economic growth, and growing populations.

“We do not need more global instability. We need peace,” he said.

“Pacific leaders have declared our region an ‘Ocean of Peace’ — a commitment to unity, sovereignty, dialogue, and non-militarisation. This is not just symbolic. It is strategic.

“Our islands have suffered before from global power rivalries and war. We know the long shadows they cast.”

He added that as the global order shifted, the Pacific must look more to each other for solidarity and cooperation.

‘Strength in regional unity’
“Our strength is in regional unity. Our security must be rooted in development, climate resilience, and human wellbeing — not militarisation.

“War diverts resources from schools to weapons, from hospitals to missiles, from climate action to destruction. Peace creates the space for progress.”

He said the Pacific must stand firm as an ocean of peace.

“In a world drifting toward conflict, let us choose stability. Let us choose cooperation. Let us choose peace.”

This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

The Polynesian Panthers met Roger Fowler in the early 1970s when Ponsonby was home to the largest urban Pacific population in Aotearoa.

He helped establish the Ponsonby People’s Union for Survival and ran several much needed community focused programmes like a food co-op, tenant’s rights advice and support.

He was a gifted community organiser deeply committed to social justice. He had a wide field of vision enabling him to see injustice in Aotearoa and injustice overseas are interconnected.

He brought so much light into the world and into the lives of many many people who came within his orbit locally and globally including ours.

He lived his life so others could have theirs.

Manuia lou malaga Roger. Our sincere condolences and aroha to Lyn and the Fowler whanau.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

Roger Norman Fowler: 12 September 1948 – 21 February 2026

Roger Fowler, an activist legend of social justice solidarity movements from Bastion Point to resisting apartheid and racist rugby tours and freedom for Palestine, has died after a long illness. He was 77.

Described by some as a “true Tāne Toa”, his protest warrior courage and his commitment to a bicultural and cross-cultural vision for Aotearoa New Zealand, was perhaps best represented by his “Songs of Struggle and Solidarity” vinyl album launched last year.

The first of 14 tracks on the album produced by Banana Boat Records, was “We Are All Palestinians”, which has become an anthem for the Gaza solidarity movement for the past 124 weeks of protest against the Israeli genocide.

Ironically, this was sung yet again by a group in Te Komititanga Square yesterday within hours of his death.

It was written by Fowler after the Viva Palestina solidarity convoy from London to Gaza in 2010.

Fowler led the Kia Ora Gaza team of six Kiwis who drove three of 135 aid-packed ambulances – funded by New Zealand donations — into the besieged enclave. This was followed later by two other land convoys and three Gaza Freedom Flotillas.

In April 2026, a massive new siege-breaking Sumud Flotilla to Gaza with 100 boats and carrying some 1000 activists is being planned.

Gaza solidarity rallies
In spite of failing health in recent months, Fowler was frequently seen at Gaza rallies, speaking and singing in his rousing voice.

Close comrade and friend, John Minto, co-chair of the Palestine Solidarity Network Aotearoa (PSNA), paid tribute to his contribution in a statement today.

“Roger has been a legend of the solidarity movement for many decades as the founder and co-cordinator of Kia Ora Gaza which delivered aid to the besieged Gaza strip by land and by sea,” he said.

“He was a man of great integrity and character with passion for justice. He will remain a guiding light for the solidarity movement here.”

Co-chair Maher Nazzal presented Fowler an award for his contribution to Palestinian solidarity last September.

Another comrade, especially during Fowler’s activism in the 1960s and 1970s, Tony Fala, recalls his “dauntless courage, tireless optimism, boundless energy, and vast strategic capacity was profoundly inspiring.”

“Roger was one of the humblest and kindest people I have ever met. He could build coalitions and strengthen community bonds with ease. He sought what brought people together, not what kept them apart.

Belief in ordinary people
“He believed in ordinary people and possessed a deep, instinctive understanding of justice. He was strong yet carried no ego.”

Fala praised Fowler’s commitment to Te Tiriti o Waitangi and to Te Ao Māori community life, describing him as a “born oral historian”.

“He gave selflessly to every cause he committed himself to and would move mountains to achieve victory for the struggles he served.”

“We are all Palestinians.”                              Video: Banana Boat Records

In the weeks before his death, he and his whanau were working hard to complete a history of the socialist Ponsonby People’s Union, “Struggle and Solidarity”, due to be published soon. Fowler met his future wife, Dr Lyn Doherty (Ngati Porou and Ngāpuhi), then while they were activists campaigning to stop landlords evicting tenants.

Activist author Dean Parker once described Fowler as “the Great Helmsman of the legendary Ponsonby People’s Union, brave hero of so many struggles”.

Fowler had lived for almost four decades in Mangere East, a multicultural quarter of South Auckland.

He was manager of the Mangere East Community Learning Centre and an executive member of Out of School Care Network.

Impressive community tribute
In 1999, he was a recipient of the Queen’s Service Medal for his “services to community” and the people of Mangere East paid an impressive tribute to him with a daytime concert last November.

One of his best remembered local campaigns was the community coalition in 2010 that saved Mangere East’s Postshop.

A one-time bus driver, Fowler strongly campaigned for public transport.

He was also involved with amateur theatre for several decades, including Auckland Light Opera, “The Aunties” children’s theatre and Manukau Performing Arts.

Fowler was a founding member of the Palestine Human Rights Campaign in the 1970s and he was part of the anti-apartheid movement for 15 years.

In 1969, along with a large group of activists — including Alan Robson, Pat Bolster and Graeme Whimp — he opened the first Resistance Bookshop in Queen Street and he was co-director for a time.

During his lifelong protests, he was arrested and jailed four times and with colleagues he set up a free prison visiting service in 1972 for Paremoremo and Waikeria.

The last track on Fowler’s album is titled “The Final Song” but his music will be long remembered as the hallmark of the life of an extraordinary community and political activist.

• Roger Fowler’s life will be celebrated at Ngā Tapuwae Community Centre, 255 Buckland Road, Mangere, 10-2pm, Wednesday, February 25.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

Last week, New Zealand First leader Winston Peters said Aotearoa’s immigration settings were “no way to treat our Pacific cousins”.

“All Pacific people want is a fair go, equivalent to what other nations are getting, and they’re not getting it,” he said outside Parliament.

While Peters’ comments were made in the context of the Pacific Justice petition, the concept of the Pacific as “family” has become a common rhetoric used by politicians and leaders across New Zealand.

In 2018, former Prime Minister Dame Jacinda Ardern spoke on such issues facing the Pacific.

“We are the Pacific too, and we are doing our best to stand with our family as they face these threats,” she said during a talk at the Paris Institute.

At the Pacific Islands Forum last year, New Zealand Prime Minister Christopher Luxon said: “This is the Pacific family and we prioritise the centrality of the Pacific Islands Forum.”

But is Aotearoa doing enough to live up to this “Pacific family” rhetoric in the face of daunting and life-changing threats, such as climate change, continues to reshape the region?

Discussions and comparisons continue to arise off the back of Australia’s Falepili Union Treaty, which saw the first group of Tuvaluan migrants relocate towards the end of 2025.

Australia’s implementation of the treaty has sparked criticism over whether New Zealand is failing its Pacific neighbours when it comes to climate-related migration.

‘Increasingly perilous situations’
For Pacific Islanders hoping to move to Aotearoa, there is a pathway.

Under the Pacific Access Category (PAC) ballot, 150 people from specifically Kiribati and 250 from Tuvalu — two of the most vulnerable nations at the forefront of climate impacts — can gain residency every year.

Applicants must pay $1385, pass health checks, meet English requirements, be under 45, and secure a job offer.

Dr Olivia Yates has spent years researching climate mobility from Kiribati and Tuvalu.

She said the tension around climate mobility sits not in a lack of awareness, but in the design of the system itself.

“I think the main takeaway is that New Zealand’s current approach to climate mobility, or at least for the last five years — things are starting to change now — but initially — we do a lot of research, get a lot more information, and leave immigration systems as they are,” she said.

She said Pacific neighbours islands are facing “increasingly difficult” circumstances.

“Disasters are becoming more frequent … the access to food and to water is being challenged because of these creeping impacts of climate change. So as the New Zealand government takes one step forward, I feel like climate change is sort of a step ahead of us,” Dr Yates said.

“It sounds very doom and gloom, but the other thing I would say is that our Pacific neighbours, fundamentally and primarily, want to stay in place. Nobody wants to have to leave.”

In the meantime, people are moving, often through pathways never intended to respond to climate pressure.

“People are using these laws to come to the country and their laws that were not really set up to address climate change and the movement of people in response to climate change,” Dr Yates said.

“They’re primarily economically motivated, and so this creates a whole bunch of issues that are the downstream consequence of using a system for something that is not what it was designed for.”

She said that PAC ballot, created in 2001, has effectively become “the de facto pathway for people from Kiribati and Tuvalu to move here for reasons related to climate change”.

While many migrants cite work, family or opportunity as the primary motivations, these distinctions are becoming blurred.

“It’s kind of becoming increasingly difficult to separate climate change drivers from these factors,” Dr Yates explained.

And the consequences can be significant. When visas hinge on employment and strict eligibility criteria, families can find themselves vulnerable if those circumstances shift.

“Our current immigration laws are being used in a way that they weren’t designed for, and this is having really negative consequences on people, specifically from Kiribati and Tuvalu,” she said.

“On the other side of that, those that wish to stay, whether because they choose to or because they can’t afford to leave, that visas aren’t available to them, and they start to face increasingly perilous situations that breach their rights.”

Lacking a plan
Kiribati community leader Kinaua Ewels, who works closely with Pacific migrants settling in Aotearoa, said the system’s rigidity has left many feeling excluded and unsupported.

She does not believe New Zealand is set up to deal with the realities of climate migration

“I’m hoping the New Zealand government could help the people who are able to move on their own, using their own money, but when they get here, they can actually access work opportunities,” she said.

Ewels said the PAC still feels restrictive, and lacks a plan to help new arrivals adapt or secure employment.

“They pressure them to look for their own job. There’s no plan for the government to help them settle very easily, to run away from climate change and their life situations back on the island,” Ewels said.

“More can be done.”

According to Ewels, the families who do arrive with the hopes of safety and stability, end up struggling to navigate basic systems, such as healthcare and employment, and get no formal support.

“It’s very restricted in the way that it’s not supportive to the people from the Pacific Islands,” she said.

NZ govt ‘not ready to bring climate refugees’

Ewels said that while New Zealand spoke of the Pacific as “family,” those words continued ringing hollow for communities who saw little practical support.

“They use the family name, which is a very meaningful and deep word back home, but the process is not done yet,” she said.

“In reality, the government is not actually ready to bring people over here in terms of climate refugees or people needing to move because of climate change.”

Ewels said if New Zealand truly viewed the Pacific as family, that connection would extend itself into some meaningful collaboration with Pacific community leaders here in Aotearoa, who could help them navigate the complexities of this situation.

“If the government talks about family, they should work with us, the community leaders, so we can help them at least make sure people are warmly welcomed and supported when they come here,” Ewels said.

Dr Yates said the government was making efforts, but warned the the pace of policy was struggling to keep up with the pace of change happening in the world today.

“I would say that the New Zealand government is trying. But as the government takes one step forward, climate change is starting to outpace us.”

Pacific sea levels have risen by as much as 15cm over the past three decades.

There are predictions that around 50,000 Pacific people across the region could lose their homes each year as the climate crisis reshapes their environments.

In the past decade, one in 10 people from Kiribati, Nauru and Tuvalu have already migrated.

Kiribati community leader Charles Kiata told RNZ Pacific in October last year that life on the Micronesian island nation was becoming increasingly difficult, as it was being hit by severe storms, with higher temperatures and drought.

“Every part of life, food, shelter, health, is being affected and what hurts the most is that our people feel trapped. They love their home, but their home is slowly disappearing,” Kiata said at the time.

Crops are dying and fresh drinking water is becoming increasingly scarce for the island nation.

Kiata said Kiribati overstayers in New Zealand were anxious they would be sent back home.

“Deporting them back to flooded lands or places with no clean water like Kiribati is not only cruel but it also goes against our shared Pacific values.”

In 2020, Kiribati man Ioane Teitiota took New Zealand to the United Nations Human Rights Committee after his refugee claim, based on sea-level rise, was rejected.

The committee did find his deportation lawful, although ruled that governments must consider the human rights impacts of climate change when assessing deportations.

The term “climate refugee” remains unrecognised in binding international law. It is a term Dr Yates has previously told RNZ was always flawed.

“Climate change is this unique phenomenon because what is forcing people out of their countries comes from elsewhere,” she said.

“At face value, the idea of being a refugee didn’t fit.”

Many communities suffering at the hands of climate change do not want to leave their home, their culture, their land, their community.

Dr Yates said the term “climate mobility” was a better fit — describing it as a spectrum that recognises the desire for communities to have options.

Australia’s Falepili Treaty v NZ’s climate pathways
In late 2025, the first Tuvaluans began relocating to Australia under the Falepili Union, a bilateral treaty signed with Tuvalu in 2023.

The agreement creates a new permanent visa for up to 280 Tuvaluans each year, allocated by ballot. Applicants do not need a job offer, there is no age cap, nor disability exclusion.

The treaty has led debate on online platforms around why New Zealand does not offer a similar pathway.

International law expert Professor Jane McAdam is cautious against simplistic comparisons between New Zealand and Australia.

“It has been mislabelled in a lot of the international media as a climate refugee visa when it’s nothing of the sort,” Prof McAdam said.

“There’s often nothing in this visa that requires you to show that you’re concerned about the impacts of climate change in the future,” she said.

Professor McAdam pointed out that New Zealand had never been viewed as “totally useless” in climate-related migration of Pacific peoples.

“Historically, New Zealand has been seen as leading the way when it comes to providing pathways for people in the Pacific to move,” she said, noting the PAC visa and labour mobility schemes as examples.

“New Zealand has been leading the way globally in recognising how existing international refugee law and human rights work,” she added.

That includes influential tribunal decisions examining how climate impacts intersect with refugee and human rights law, even where claims ultimately failed.

In 2023, Pacific leaders endorsed the Pacific Regional Framework on Climate Mobility, the first regional document to formally acknowledge climate-related migration and commit states to cooperate on safe and dignified pathways.

Dr Yates said New Zealand was “furiously involved” in shaping the framework.

“The framework is the first time, put down on paper, that people are migrating because of climate-related reasons,” she said.

However, the document is non-binding.

“It means our government is ready to take this seriously. But I wouldn’t say they are taking this seriously, yet.”

She added a dedicated, rights-based climate mobility visa is needed that can account for a wide-range of people, including those with disabilities and others disproportionately affected.

RNZ Pacific approached the Immigration Minister Erica Stanford’s office for comment on whether New Zealand immigration law does explicitly recognise climate change or climate-induced displacement as grounds for special protection or a dedicated visa category.

We were advised Foreign Affairs Minister Winston Peters was the appropriate person to comment on the issue.

However, a spokesperson for Peters told RNZ Pacific the specific issue “would be a question for the Minister of Immigration, or the Climate Change Minister”.

This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

The global human rights landscape has witnessed a significant diplomatic milestone.

Indonesia, for the first time since the body’s establishment in 2006, has officially taken the presidency of the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC).

Indonesia’s Permanent Representative to the UN in Geneva, Ambassador Sidharto Reza Suryodipuro, is currently guiding the procedural and diplomatic course of the world’s foremost human rights forum for the coming year.

This appointment, backed by consensus within the Asia-Pacific regional group and subsequently endorsed by the full council, is far more than a routine procedural rotation.

It is a mirror reflecting diplomatic success, yet also a fragile piñata — ready to spill forth either in praise or sharp criticism depending on the blows dealt by reality and unfolding dynamics.

This moment is not the end of a journey, but the opening of a new chapter rife with interpretation — a complex test of Indonesia’s credibility, capacity, and consistency on the stage of global issues.

The test begins not only in the halls of Geneva but simultaneously in the halls of power in Jakarta, where the government is pushing for the ratification of a revised Human Rights Law by this year.

This legislative endeavour has now become inextricably linked to the credibility of its international leadership.

Foundations and mandate
To understand the seriousness of this position, one must look to its foundational pillars.

The UN Charter, as the supreme constitution of global governance, clearly places the promotion and respect for human rights as a central pillar for maintaining international peace and security.

This charter provides an undeniable moral and political mandate. Indonesia’s presidency, within this framework, is an operational instrument to realise the charter’s noble aims — a collective trust bestowed by the community of nations.

The Human Rights Council itself is a product of the post-Cold War collective consciousness and the failures of its predecessor, the Commission on Human Rights. Established by General Assembly Resolution 60/251, it was designed as a more legitimate intergovernmental body with a mandate to strengthen the promotion and protection of human rights globally.

It is a space of often-tense dialogue, a tireless advocacy arena for civil society, and a stage where mechanisms like the Universal Periodic Review (UPR) and Special Procedures strive to illuminate dark corners of violations.

Within this complexity, the council president is not merely a passive moderator but a pacesetter, agenda-shaper, balance-keeper, and often a mediator in intricate political deadlocks. This position holds the key that can either unlock discussions on neglected issues or bury them in procedure.

The normative compass for the council is the International Bill of Human Rights — comprising the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR).

These standards are the shared measure, the common language, and the basis for demands.

Indonesia’s leadership will be judged on its ability to advance the language and spirit of these covenants, not only within the halls of Geneva but also through their resonance and enactment at the national level. It is here that the ongoing revision of Indonesia’s own Human Rights Law (Law Number 30 of 1999) transforms from a domestic legislative process into a litmus test for its international posture.

Two sides of the coin
Globally, this presidency represents the pinnacle of Indonesia’s soft power diplomacy. It affirms the image of a consequential developing nation deemed capable of leading even the most sensitive conversations.

It is an invaluable platform to voice Global South perspectives, emphasise the interdependence of civil-political and socio-economic rights, and champion dialogue over confrontation.

Indonesia has the opportunity to act as a bridge-builder, spanning the divides between West and East, North and South, in an increasingly polarised human rights discourse.

Yet, behind the stage lights, the shadows are long and critical. Organisations like Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have consistently warned that leadership on the council must align with tangible commitment.

They are watching closely: Will Indonesia use its influence to push for access by special mandate-holders to global conflict zones, or will it cloak inaction in the rhetoric of state sovereignty?

Will its voice be loud in highlighting violations in one region while falling silent on another due to geopolitical and geostrategic considerations?

Herein lies the ultimate credibility test. The United Liberation Movement for West Papua (ULMWP) criticises Indonesia’s presidency, arguing it could swiftly become “hollow prestige” if seen merely as a product of regional rotation, not a recognition of substantive capability.

The ULMWP asserts that Indonesia is unfit for the role, pointing to allegations of a 60-year conflict in Papua, historical casualties, and comparing the situation to past international controversies.

They challenge Indonesia’s moral standing, citing unresolved historical allegations, internal displacement, and the long-standing refusal to grant access to the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights.

This opposition underscores the profound domestic scrutiny the presidency faces: every action on the global stage will be measured against conditions in Papua, where critics describe ongoing tensions and demand immediate access for journalists and a UN visit.

The most profound implications may, in fact, unfold domestically. This presidency is a mirror forcibly held up to the nation itself. It creates unique political and moral pressure to address longstanding homework.

Issues such as freedom of expression, protection of minorities and vulnerable groups, law enforcement in cases of alleged violations, and the state of labour and environmental rights will come under a brighter international spotlight.

In this context, the government’s move to revise the Human Rights Law is a direct response to this pressure.

Human Rights Minister Natalius Pigai, in a meeting with Commission III of the House of Representatives (DPR) on February 2, 2026, emphasised that the drafting process involves prominent national human rights figures — including Professor Jimly Asshiddiqie, Makarim Wibisono, Haris Azhar, Rocky Gerung, Ifdhal Kasim, and Roichatul Aswidah — to ensure the revised law is “more progressive and advanced”.

The government is targeting ratification in 2026, aiming to synchronise domestic legal progress with its international leadership year.

The government thus faces a stark choice: leverage this historic moment as a catalyst for deeper legal and institutional human rights reforms, open wider dialogue with civil society, and demonstrate tangible progress anchored in a stronger law; or, wield the position merely as a diplomatic shield to deflect criticism, content with symbolism over substance, even if that symbolism includes a newly passed but weakly implemented law.

The latter would be a damaging boomerang, deepening a crisis of trust both in the eyes of its own citizens and the global community.

Indonesian civil society, conversely, holds a golden opportunity. They now have a wider door to elevate domestic issues to the global forum, using their own nation’s presidential position as an accountability tool. The involvement of activists in the law revision process is a start, but the presidency must be seen not as the sole property of the government, but as a national asset to be filled with diverse and critical voices, both sweet and bitter, to ensure the promised progress is real.

Navigating the terrain
A clear-eyed SWOT analysis is indispensable for Indonesia to strategically navigate its historic presidency of the UN Human Rights Council. This framework illuminates the internal and external factors that will define its tenure, balancing inherent advantages against palpable risks, all while the domestic reform clock ticks.

Strengths: Indonesia enters this role with a formidable diplomatic toolkit. Its long-standing tradition of “free and active” foreign policy has cultivated a wide non-aligned network and substantial credibility as an independent voice in the Global South.

As the world’s third-largest democracy, it offers a practical case study in balancing governance, diversity, and development. Furthermore, its soft power assets — embodied in the national motto Bhinneka Tunggal Ika (Unity in Diversity) and its narrative of moderate Islam — provide unique cultural and religious leverage to mediate polarised debates on sensitive issues like religious freedom.

Operationally, the presidency itself confers significant agenda-setting power, allowing Indonesia to prioritise thematic issues such as the right to development, climate justice, and interfaith tolerance, while influencing the appointment of key human rights investigators.

The concurrent push for a progressive Human Rights Law revision can be framed as a strength, showcasing a commitment to aligning domestic norms with international aspirations.

Weaknesses: Indonesia’s most significant vulnerability remains the perceived gap between its international advocacy and its domestic human rights landscape. Longstanding, contentious issues — including restrictions on civil liberties, protections for minorities, and unresolved past alleged violations — provide immediate fodder for critics and undermine its moral authority.

This credibility deficit is a strategic weakness that adversaries will exploit. The revision of the Human Rights Law, if perceived as a rushed or cosmetic exercise to coincide with the presidency, could exacerbate this weakness rather than alleviate it.

Additionally, the technical and political capacity of its permanent mission in Geneva will be under immense strain, tested by the need to master complex procedural rules while managing intensely politicised negotiations among competing global blocs in real-time.

Opportunities: This presidency is an unparalleled platform for strategic nation-branding, casting Indonesia as a consensus-driven, responsible global leader. Domestically, it creates a powerful political catalyst to accelerate and deepen stalled legislative reforms.

The targeted 2026 ratification of the Human Rights Law is the prime opportunity; it must be used to revitalise national human rights institutions like the National Commission of Human Rights (Komnas HAM) and pass long-delayed bills like the Domestic Workers Protection Bill.

Internationally, it offers the chance to operationalise its bridge-builder identity, mediating in protracted conflicts or humanitarian crises where dialogue has stalled, thereby translating diplomatic principle into tangible impact.

Successfully shepherding a meaningful domestic reform would give Indonesia undeniable moral currency in these international efforts.

Threats: The external environment is fraught with challenges. The council is often an arena for great power politicisation, where human rights issues are weaponised for geopolitical ends. Indonesia risks being ensnared in these zero-sum games, which could drain diplomatic capital and compromise its neutral stance.

Simultaneously, it faces relentless scrutiny from a vigilant transnational civil society and global media, ensuring that any perceived stagnation or regression at home — such as a watered-down Human Rights Law or continued restrictions in Papua — will trigger amplified criticism internationally.

The paramount threat, however, is the boomerang effect: that the heightened visibility of the presidency exponentially raises expectations, and the subsequent failure to demonstrate concrete progress — both in Geneva through effective leadership and in Jakarta through substantive reform—could severely damage Indonesia’s hard-won diplomatic reputation, leaving it weaker than before it assumed the chair.

Thus, Indonesia’s tenure will be a constant balancing act: leveraging its strengths to seize opportunities, while meticulously managing its weaknesses to mitigate existential threats.

The presidency is not merely a position of honour, but a high-stakes test of strategic foresight and authentic commitment, where domestic legislative action is now part of the international exam.

From symbol to substance: The path forward
Indonesia’s election as the 2026 President of the UNHRC is an acknowledgment of its role and potential on the global stage. However, this acknowledgment comes as a loan of trust with very high interest: increased accountability and consistency.

The government’s own timeline, aiming to ratify a revised Human Rights Law within this same year, has voluntarily raised the stakes, tying its legacy directly to tangible domestic output.

This year of leadership is not a celebratory party, but a laboratory for authentic leadership. Its success will not be measured by the smoothness of procedural sessions or the number of meetings chaired.

It will be measured by the extent to which Indonesia can articulate and champion a vision of inclusive and just human rights globally, and — just as crucially — by the degree to which this office leaves a positive legacy for the advancement of human rights at home.

The revised Human Rights Law is poised to be the most visible component of that domestic legacy. Minister Pigai’s confidence in its progressiveness, bolstered by the involvement of respected figures, must translate into a law that meaningfully addresses past shortcomings and empowers institutions.

Indonesia stands at a crossroads. One path leads to transformative leadership, using this position to strengthen global norms while cleansing the domestic mirror through courageous reform and open engagement. The other leads to transactional leadership, leveraging prestige and a new but potentially inert law to impress without touching the core of the issues.

Indonesia’s choice will determine whether history records 2026 as the year Indonesia truly led the world on human rights by exemplifying the change it advocates, or merely performed a protocol duty on a stage where the lights are slowly fading on its credibility.

A historic mandate and its dual imperative
This strategic position is a historic achievement, cementing the country’s role while presenting a real-time test of its global credibility. As a body of 47 member states, the UNHRC holds vital authority in investigating violations, conducting periodic reviews, and shaping international human rights norms. The Council President controls the agenda, guides dialogue, and, most importantly, builds consensus from diverse interests.

Indonesia is no newcomer, currently serving its sixth membership term and often as a Vice-President. Securing the top seat opens the chance to shift from “player” to “game-setter,” potentially shaping a more inclusive global human rights discourse.

This achievement is built on active diplomacy: vigorous economic and peace diplomacy (including Indonesia’s peacemaker initiatives), strengthened regional diplomacy emphasising ASEAN centrality and Global South solidarity, and a consistent multilateral commitment as a strong UN system supporter.

The Indonesian Ministry of Foreign Affairs has affirmed its commitment to lead the council objectively, inclusively, and in a balanced manner. Potential agenda paths include advocating for contextualising human rights principles to be more sensitive to the historical, developmental, and socio-cultural contexts of developing nations; expanding the discourse to seriously discuss issues like corruption, environmental degradation, and electoral governance in the Council; and testing its bridge-builder capacity in acute conflicts, such as the Palestinian issue, by leading constructive diplomatic initiatives.

Ultimately, history will record not just the prestigious title of “UNHRC President,” but the substance and impact of the leadership. This position is a mirror: Is Indonesia ready to lead with consistency and firm moral principle, or will it become trapped in the contradiction between rhetoric in Geneva and reality at home?

The parallel process to revise the Human Rights Law is now part of that reflection. Its quality, its process, and its final enactment will be scrutinised as evidence of Indonesia’s sincerity.

True leadership will be measured by the courage to build bridges amid global divisions and the ability to connect words with concrete action and accountability domestically. The year 2026 will determine whether this moment is remembered as a renaissance of moral diplomacy, backed by genuine legal evolution at home, or merely a display window of symbolism where even new laws ring hollow.

The final word rests not on the title itself, but on the government’s collective actions in both the international arena and the national legislature. Success in this dual mission would add a brilliant and coherent achievement to the international record of the administration of President Prabowo Subianto and Vice-President Gibran Rakabuming Raka.

The choice — and the test — is in Indonesia’s hands.

Laurens Ikinia is a Papuan lecturer and researcher at the Institute of Pacific Studies, Indonesian Christian University, Jakarta. He is also an honorary member of the Asia Pacific Media Network (APMN) in Aotearoa New Zealand.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

When peace is being designed, Fiji is not invited into the room.

When peace needs enforcing, Fiji is asked to send soldiers.

That uncomfortable reality is exposed by the emergence of US President Donald Trump’s so-called “Board of Peace” for Gaza.

While New Zealand was formally invited to join the Board — and chose to decline — Fiji was not invited at all.

Yet Fiji has reportedly been asked to contribute troops to a proposed “stabilisation force” linked to Gaza.

The contrast is revealing. It highlights how global security is increasingly organised — and where Fiji is positioned within that order.

The Board of Peace is reportedly structured as an exclusive body with a joining fee of around US$2 billion.

That cost alone places participation far beyond the reach of most developing countries.

For Fiji, whose entire national budget is only a fraction of that amount, membership is not simply impractical; it is structurally impossible.

In this model, peace is something designed by those who can afford entry — a “pay to play” arrangement.

Yet although Fiji cannot afford to “play”, its military presence is required.

The peacekeeping paradox: Respected soldiers, limited voice

For decades, Fijian soldiers have served with distinction in peacekeeping missions under the United Nations flag. Their professionalism, discipline and reliability are widely recognised.

But that reputation now risks confining Fiji to a familiar role: valued for its manpower but excluded from decision-making.

This is not partnership. It is subcontracting.

Fiji should not carry the risks of other people’s decisions without having a voice in them.

New Zealand had a choice. Fiji did not.
New Zealand’s refusal to join Trump’s Board of Peace, underscores the imbalance.

Wellington cited concerns about mandate clarity and alignment with international norms.

New Zealand had the opportunity to make that choice.

Fiji did not.

One country was offered a seat at the table; the other was offered boots on the ground.

For Fiji, this raises serious foreign policy questions.

The issue is not opposition to peacekeeping. The issue is peacekeeping without political voice — being asked to assume risk in missions shaped by others and detached from established multilateral oversight.

Alignment with existing policy
These concerns align closely with Fiji’s National Security and Defence Review (NSDR), which recognises that national security includes the adherence to international law, and the maintenance of trust in Fiji’s external engagements.

Central to the NSDR is the requirement that security commitments be legitimate, transparent and accountable, supported by clear civilian oversight.

Being asked to deploy troops into a stabilisation force designed outside the UN system, while being excluded from the political body determining its mandate, sits way outside those espoused principles.

The moral burden on soldiers and the families
Fiji will bear the operational and political risk but has little influence over strategic direction. Fiji will carry the risks without shaping the outcome.

This puts RFMF soldiers in an unclear and fraught position. They — and their families — are the ones who will carry the risk in this venture. It is a morally and ethically unfair burden for the government to place upon them.

This moment therefore calls for clarity and restraint by the decision makers in Fiji’s Parliament and Cabinet.

The question is not whether Fiji can contribute troops — history shows that it can and has done so with honour.

The question is whether such contributions serve Fiji’s national interest and upholds international legitimacy.

Honouring our legacy
Fiji’s peacekeeping legacy should not be used to justify accepting deployments where authority, accountability and purpose are unclear.

Peacekeeping without representation is not partnership.

Fiji has earned international respect as a contributor to global peace. It should not accept a future in which it is always invited to serve but never invited to decide.

No soldier should be sent into harm’s way without clear purpose, lawful authority, and their nation’s voice at the table.

Jim Sanday was a commissioned military officer in the pre-coup Royal Fiji Military Forces (RFMF) and commanded Fijian peacekeeping battalions in Lebanon and Sinai. In 2025, he led the National Security and Defence Review (NSDR) and co-authored the National Security Strategy that was approved by Cabinet in June 2025. This article was first pubished by the Fiji Sun and is republished by Asia Pacific Report with the author’s permission.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

As Waitangi Day commemorations continue drawing people from across Aotearoa and around the world to the Bay of Islands, Te Tii Marae has become a gathering point for Indigenous ocean leadership from across the Pacific.

Taiātea: Gathering of the Oceans held its public forum yesterday, uniting more than 20 Indigenous leaders, marine scientists and researchers from Australia, Canada, Cook Islands, Hawai’i, Niue, Rapa Nui and Aotearoa.

The forum forms part of a wider 10-day wānanga taking place across Te Ika a Māui (North Island).

With a focus on the protection and restoration of Te Moana Nui a Kiwa, the Pacific Ocean, kōrero throughout the day centred on the exchange of knowledge, marine protection, ocean resilience and the accelerating impacts of climate change.

A key message remained prevalent throughout the day – the moana is not separate from the people, but a living ancestor, and a responsibility carried across generations.

‘Continue that path of conservation, preservation’
Hawaiʻi’s Solomon Pili Kaho’ohalahala, co-founder of One Oceania, a former politician, and a respected elder, framed his kōrero around the belief that there is no separation between human and nature — “we are all one”.

For Kaho’ohalahala, being present at Waitangi has been a powerful reminder of the links between past, present, and future.

“Waitangi is a very historical place for the Māori people,” he said. “It is where important decisions were made by your elders.

“So to be here in this place, for me, is significant.”

“We are talking about historical events that have happened to our people across Oceania, preserved by the elders who had visions to create treaties . . .  decisions that were going to be impactful to the generations to follow,” Kaho’ohalahala said.

“It brings the relevancy of these conversations. They are what we need to negotiate and navigate the challenges we face in the present. The purpose for this is, ultimately, no different to the kupuna (Hawai’ian elder), that this was intended for the generations yet unborn,” he added.

Kaho’ohalahala also reflected on the enduring connections between indigenous communities across oceans.

“To be a part of this conversation from across the ocean that separates us, our connection by our culture and canoes is to help us understand that we are still all connected as the people of Oceania.

“But we need to be able to reiterate that, and understand why we need to emerge from that past to bring it to our relevancy to these times and issues, to continue that path of conservation, preservation, for those unborn.”

She said Waitangi was the perfect backdrop to encourage these discussions. While different cultures face individual challenges, there is a collective sense of unity.

“One of our key pillars is nurturing our future tamariki, and the ways of our peu tupuna, and nurturing stewardship and guardianship with them as our future leaders,” Castledine said.

“It’s about reclaiming how we perceive our ocean as being an ancestor, as a living organism, as whānau to us. We’re here at Waitangi to stand in solidarity of our shared ancestor and the responsibility we all have for its protection,” Castledine said.

She said people must be forward-thinking in how they collectively navigate environmental wellbeing.

“We all have a desire and a love for our moana, our indigenous knowledge systems of our oceans are critical to curating futures for our tamariki and mokopuna,” she said.

“We want to ensure that generations that come after us will continue to be able to feed generations beyond all of us. It’s about safeguarding their inheritance.”

“This is [an] opportunity to learn about common challenges we may have, and how other nations and indigenous leaders are facing those challenges, and what successes they’ve been having,” she said.

“It just makes sense that we have a relationship, and that we build that relationship.”

She noted the central role of the marine environment for her people.

“It’s not lost on me that my people are ocean-going people as well. We rely on the marine environment.

“Our salmon is the foundation and the backbone of our livelihood and the livelihood of all other beings in which we live amongst. I’m a world away, and yet I’m still sitting within the Pacific Ocean.

“So the work I do at home and how we take care of our marine environment impacts the people of Aotearoa as well, and vice versa. And so it just makes sense that we have a relationship, and that we build that relationship, because traditionally we did,” she added.

Following the public forum, indigenous leaders will visit haukāinga in the Tūwharetoa and Whanganui regions for further knowledge exchanges and to discuss specific case studies.

This article is republished under a community partnership agreement with RNZ.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

The logbook of presidential flights in Indonesia reveals an unusual pattern — from the Merdeka Palace to the Land of the Bird of Paradise.

By 2023, then President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo had set foot in Papua at least 17 times — a record in the republic’s history, surpassing the total visits of all previous presidents combined.

Each touchdown of the presidential plane on the land of Papua or at the new airports he inaugurated was more than just a working visit. It was a statement of presence as a political message: Papua is no longer marginalised; it exists on Indonesia’s main political map.

Yet, behind the roar of the presidential plane and the welcoming traditional dances, lies a critical question: Has the physical presence of a national leader, accompanied by the rumble of massive infrastructure projects, touched the core issues of Papua?

Or has it merely become a grand symbol of integration, while social fractures, injustice, and sorrow continue to flow?

This analysis evaluates the multifaceted impact of President Jokowi’s dozen plus visits and draw crucial lessons for the new administration of President Prabowo Subianto and Vice-President Gibran Rakabuming Raka (Jokowi’s Son) in weaving a more just and sustainable Papuan policy.

The multidimensional impact of Jokowi’s visits
From a national political perspective, the frequency of President Jokowi’s visits to Papua, was a smart and unprecedented political communication strategy. Each landing in the Melanesian land has not merely been a routine agenda but a powerful symbolic political performance.

Handshakes with tribal chiefs, meetings with traditional leaders in public arenas, and speeches amid crowds function as direct counter-narratives to long-standing issues of marginalisation and separatism.

This physical presidential presence is an undeniable visual declaration: Papua is an inseparable part of Indonesia, and the nation’s highest leader is consistently present there.

This presence serves as a potent tool of state legitimacy, shortening the psychological distance between the centre of power in Jakarta and the easternmost Melanesian region, while demonstrating the intended political commitment. However, beneath this symbolism, the legitimacy built through physical presence is temporary if not supported by real structural change.

The critical question often raised by the community, especially Indigenous Papuans (OAP), is simple yet fundamental: “After the president’s planes and helicopters leave and the protocol frenzy subsides, what has truly changed for our lives?”

The narrative of integration through presence and physical development often clashes with demands for self-determination and historical grievances still alive among indigenous Papuans, as reflected in the ongoing armed conflict in the Central Highlands, indicating that this approach has not fully addressed the deep-seated roots of dissatisfaction.

The most visible legacy of the Jokowi era in Papua is none other than the infrastructure revolution — thousands of kilometres of the Trans-Papua Road cutting through wilderness and remote mountains, the magnificent Youtefa Bridge in Jayapura, and airport modernisations like Ewer Airport in Asmat, Wamena Airport, and the construction of the trans-Wamena-Jayapura road, Wamena-Nduga road, and other physical developments.

The government’s logic is that connectivity is an absolute prerequisite for growth. With good roads, the price of necessities in the interior is expected to drop, tourism can develop, and public services like health and education can become faster and more equitable.

Data from the Ministry of Public Works and Housing indeed records significant accessibility improvements. However, behind this physical progress, reports from organisations like the Pusaka Foundation and Greenpeace Indonesia warn of massive and often overlooked ecological impacts.

The opening of certain segments of the Trans-Papua Road is judged to accelerate deforestation, threaten Papua’s unique biodiversity, and disrupt watershed areas.

More profoundly, the issue of community involvement and consent in land acquisition processes often becomes a source of new conflict, sparking tension. As Indonesian human rights activist Usman Hamid has stated, infrastructure development is like a double-edged sword: on one side, it opens isolation and shortens distances, but on the other, it paradoxically erodes customary land rights, damages the environment that is the source of their cultural life and subsistence, and ironically, is enjoyed more by new settlers with greater capital and networks.

On the socio-economic level, the government vigorously distributed various social assistance programmes such as the Indonesia Health Card (KIS), Indonesia Smart Card (KIP), and various forms of Direct Cash Assistance (BLT).

These affirmative policies aim directly at catching up on welfare gaps and, statistically, have succeeded in reducing poverty rates in cities like Jayapura, although they remain the highest nationally. Sectors like Youtefa Bay tourism also show rapid growth. However, the economic growth created is often enclave-like and not inclusive.

Maria, a small business owner in Jayapura, illustrates this reality — large infrastructure projects are handled by contractors from outside Papua, hotels and medium-scale businesses are often owned by non-Papuan investors, while local SMEs struggle to compete due to limited access to capital, training, and marketing networks.

The structural gap between OAP and non-Papuans in ownership of means of production and access to quality job opportunities remains wide. Consequently, many Papuan sons and daughters only become manual labourers or contract workers on the grand projects building their ancestral land, an irony that deepens the sense of injustice.

In the socio-cultural realm, President Jokowi’s presence, often adorned with Papuan cultural ornaments and humbly participating in traditional dances, was a powerful form of symbolic recognition. This gesture sent a national message that Papuan culture is respected and valued at the highest state level.

However, this symbolic recognition on the political stage often does not align with the daily reality in Papua. The late Papuan peace figure, Father Neles Tebay, once described that in Papuan cities, “two worlds” often coexist but do not integrate: the modern world of migrants dominating the formal sector and modern economy, and the world of indigenous communities, often marginalised in culturally insensitive development processes.

Ethnic-tinged horizontal conflicts that have occurred, such as in Jayapura and Mimika, are clear indicators of how fragile social harmony is and how deep the unresolved socio-cultural gap remains.

The darkest and most challenging point of this entire development narrative lies in human rights issues and the unending armed conflict. Although presidential visits often include a conflict resolution agenda, incidents of human rights violations and armed clashes between security forces and the TPNPB (West Papua National Liberation Army) continue to recur, with unarmed civilians often becoming trapped victims, as in the tragedies in Nduga and Intan Jaya highlighted by Komnas HAM and LBH Jakarta.

An approach relying almost solely on physical development, unaccompanied by sincere efforts towards historical reconciliation and fair, transparent law enforcement for past human rights violations, is considered by many in Papua as merely “covering a festering internal wound with a bandage”.

This unresolved historical pain and injustice continues to be the main fuel for resistance and demands for independence, proving that concrete and asphalt roads alone are not enough to build lasting peace and justice felt by all the nation’s children.

Valuable lessons for the Prabowo-Gibran era
The current administration under President Prabowo Subianto and Vice-President Gibran Rakabuming Raka must not continue the Papuan policy with business as usual. The previous administration’s legacy offers a clear roadmap, as well as warnings about dead ends that must be avoided.

Four critical lessons should form the basis for transitioning from symbolic development to substantive, just transformation.

First, policy focus must undergo a paradigm shift from mere physical development towards the holistic empowerment of Papuan people. This means massive investment in quality education with curricula relevant to social contexts and local potential, as well as vocational training that equips Indigenous Papuans with skills to manage the economy on their own land.

Firm and measurable affirmative schemes must be designed to ensure Indigenous Papuans are not merely spectators, but the primary owners and managers of strategic economic sectors, from culture-based tourism and organic agriculture to creative industries.

Without this step, magnificent infrastructure will only become a channel for an extractive economy controlled by outsiders, perpetuating dependency and disparity.

Second, the government must enforce the principle of absolute harmony between development, cultural preservation, and environmental protection. Every major project, especially those touching customary lands and indigenous forest areas, must undergo credible, participatory, and legally binding Environmental and Social-Cultural Impact Assessments (AMDAL & ANDAL).

Development must no longer sacrifice local wisdom and ecosystems that are the soul and identity of Papuan society. Development models imported from Java or Sumatra must be reviewed and replaced with approaches born from dialogue with local ecology and culture, so that progress is not synonymous with environmental destruction and cultural marginalisation.

Third, this new era must open space for conflict resolution through a courageous approach of dialogue and reconciliation. The government needs to initiate inclusive dialogue involving all elements of Papuan society, including pro-independence groups willing to discuss peacefully, to address the roots of historical and structural dissatisfaction.

This complex issue has been comprehensively formulated by the Papua Peace Network. The establishment of an independent and trusted Papua Truth and Reconciliation Commission could be a monumental step to heal past wounds and build a foundation for sustainable peace, recognising that true security is born from justice.

Fourth, Special Autonomy must be revived in its meaning and spirit. A comprehensive evaluation of the implementation of the Special Autonomy Law, along with its trillions of rupiah in fund flows, is a necessity.

These funds must be shifted from physical projects that are often off-target to investments in enhancing the capacity, health, and economy of indigenous Papuans. More importantly, Special Autonomy must be interpreted as a political recognition of the special rights of Indigenous Papuans.

This means strengthening traditional institutions and providing real and decisive participatory space in every strategic decision-making at the provincial and district levels, so that policies are no longer felt as something imposed from Jakarta.

Ultimately, the main challenge for the Prabowo-Gibran administration is to demonstrate that commitment to Papua goes beyond rhetoric and showcase projects. Success will be measured not by the length of roads built, but by the fading of tension, the reduction of disparities, and the rise of self-confidence and economic independence among Indigenous Papuans.

Only by making these four pillars — human empowerment, harmony, dialogue, and living autonomy — the foundation of policy can Papua be truly integrated into the Republic of Indonesia in a dignified and sustainable manner.

A revolutionary approach model
To translate the lessons from the previous era, the current administration requires a radical change in its approach model, moving from a centralised development paradigm towards participatory governance based on Papuan native institutions.

The most revolutionary option is to form a special ministry focused on empowering Indigenous Papuans, inspired by the Ministry of Māori Development in New Zealand.

This ministry is not intended to manage regional administration, but specifically to guarantee the fulfilment of indigenous Papuans’ rights, as mandated in the Special Autonomy Law.

By placing the Governing Body for the Acceleration of Special Autonomy Development in Papua (BP3OKP) and the Papua Special Autonomy Acceleration Executive Committee under it, the government can create centralised, strong, and accountable coordination, thereby avoiding programme overlap and leakage of Special Autonomy funds.

This institutional revolution must be supported by data-based governance and authentic participation. Every policy and fund allocation, especially the massive Special Autonomy funds, must arise from rigorous data studies and in-depth dialogue with the community, rather than just technocratic planning in Jakarta.

Transparency and accountability in fund use must be guaranteed through independent oversight mechanisms that actively involve representatives of traditional councils or institutions, religious institutions, and local NGOs as watchdogs. Only then can the allocated funds truly become an instrument of change, not merely an instrument of expenditure.

Another key pillar is building equal and formal partnerships with Papuan traditional institutions, such as the Papuan Customary Council (DAP) and various stakeholders. These institutions are not merely ceremonial objects but must be recognised as strategic government partners in every stage of development, from planning and implementation to evaluation.

As socio-cultural anchors, understanding the pulse and real needs of the community, their involvement can prevent social conflict and ensure development programmes align with local wisdom and customary rights.

Furthermore, meaningful decentralisation becomes a prerequisite for success. Local governments in Papua must be given substantive authority and massive capacity building to independently manage natural resources and public services.

Moreover, the development approach must start from the grassroots, making participatory development at the village level the standard method. This method ensures that community aspirations are heard directly and the projects implemented truly address their priority needs, not merely pursuing physical targets.

Ultimately, this approach aims to reverse the traditional relationship between the central government and local governments in Papua. From a relationship that has so far seemed patron-client, to a partnership based on the sovereignty of indigenous communities and substantive justice.

Thus, development is no longer felt as something given from above, but something built together from below, creating a sense of ownership and sustainability that will become the foundation for long-term peace and prosperity in Papua.

Indonesianising in the Papuan Way
Reinterpreting the term “Indonesianising” Papua is a main task for the current administration. This concept must no longer be interpreted as an assimilation process erasing distinctive identity, but must transform into an integration that respects uniqueness.

True integration is not homogenisation, but an effort to embrace diversity as a strength. In this context, Indonesia is not a single mould, but a mosaic that gains its beauty precisely from the differences of each piece. For this, a multidimensional approach grounded in four main pillars is required.

First, in the field of education, the national curriculum must become more flexible and inclusive. Enrichment with local content — such as the history and wisdom of Papuan tribes, local languages, and inherited ecological wisdom — should not be merely supplementary, but the core of the learning process.

Schools must become places where Papuan children are proud of their identity while mastering global competencies. Second, in the field of the economy, self-reliance must be built on local strengths.

Easily accessible micro-financing systems, entrepreneurship training, and strong marketing support for flagship products like Wamena arabica coffee, sago, matoa, or high-value marine products will create a sovereign economy that empowers, rather than displaces, the indigenous people.

Third, recognition at the legal level is the foundation of justice. Recognition of the customary land rights of indigenous communities in land and natural resource governance must be guaranteed and integrated into national regulations. This is a concrete step to prevent agrarian conflict and ensure development benefits return to the rightful land owners.

Fourth, building intensive cultural dialogue through student, artist, and youth exchange programs between Papua and other regions, or other countries. This direct interaction will break the chain of prejudice, build empathy, and strengthen a true sense of brotherhood as one nation.

Towards a ‘Just Papua’
The legacy from the previous period is ambivalent. On one hand, there is magnificent infrastructure and symbolic integration strengthened through physical presence; on the other, deep disappointment remains due to unbridged gaps and a persistently pulsating conflict.

The Prabowo-Gibran administration now stands at a historical crossroads. The choice is between continuing the visually spectacular yet often elitist “concrete development” model or taking a more winding yet dignified path: namely, the Papuan human empowerment model, which places indigenous Papuans as the primary subject and heir to the future of their own land.

This strategic choice will be fate-determining. It will measure, later at the end of their term, whether presidential and vice-presidential visits to Papua are still met with cold protocol performances, or with new hope and genuine smiles from a people who feel recognised, valued, and empowered.

Ultimately, genuine national integration can only be realised when Indigenous Papuans can stand tall with all their identity and dignity, not as a party being “Indonesianised,” but as fully-fledged Indonesians who also shape the face of the nation.

The future of Papua is not about becoming like others, but about being itself in the embrace of the Bird of Garuda.

Laurens Ikinia is a Papuan lecturer and researcher at the Institute of Pacific Studies, Indonesian Christian University, Jakarta. He is also an honorary member of the Asia Pacific Media Network (APMN) in Aotearoa New Zealand, and an occasional contributor to Asia Pacific Report.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

As a journalist based in Tonga, I have chosen mostly to refrain from giving a view of US President Donald Trump, one way or another, as I thought that he would sooner or later get over his incredible childishness and tyrannical behavior, and start doing something credible for his country, and the world.

I was initially horrified in 2024 watching Trump in a White House televised meeting with Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky in which he rudely bullied the Ukrainian leader; told lies and acted arrogantly, humiliating him.

Also, I watched him boast unceasingly about “Making America Great Again” (MAGA).

He created an ICE force, unleashing them in states like Minnesota against their will, killing people in Minneapolis and wrongly arresting citizens while looking for illegals to be deported.

Tonga was listed among nations which were banned from entry into the USA, affecting many students who were planning to take up further schooling for 2026. Tongan families who planned to visit the graduation of their children were no longer allowed into the USA.

He ordered America’s military to attack Venezuela and kidnapped the President, against international law; also controlled the sale of their oil.

When the Opposition leader of that country offered him her Noble Peace Prize Award, he accepted — something he has tried to get saying he has “settled peace in 8 wars”.

Bombing of Nigeria
He ordered the bombing of Nigeria as a reaction to the “killing of Christians”. Is this what Jesus would have done whenever there are Christians who are persecuted anywhere in the world? Or is this Trump’s way to help boost his image among American Christians?

And then came the Greenland issue, which he called Iceland in a speech in Switzerland. He has threatened to invade this country which is under Denmark and NATO; then offered to buy it, and then after threats, changed his mind and announced there has been “a deal involving NATO, a peace framework for the future.”

But Trump could not help himself by boasting that “if it was not for us, German would be your language today”. He did not realise that German is the main language spoken in Switzerland.

Much more can be said about what this Nazi-style dictator is doing in America and the world, but the one that eventually tipped me over, was his most recent public statement, during a boast-fest in the White House that “God must be proud of me!”

How can a human be more deceived?

The narcissism of this man exceeds anyone else in that he now boasts that “God must be proud” of him! If God is proud of him, then God must be behind every move he makes.

Trump is not just a product of his own making. He has the support of the extreme rightist Republican Party, and a huge number of American Evangelicals. This is a huge concern, because the views of these groups continue to fuel the ungodly narcissism that is so much a part of Trump’s personality and character.

‘He is always right’
Its not only a case of “might is right” but that “he is always right” and that is why God must be proud of him!

What is also most shocking is that Trump supporters not only worship him as “a god” but also give great sounding explanations to Trump’s actions. An example is like saying Trump is only bringing the Venezuelan President (and his wife) to America to stand trial for drug smuggling.

Never mind about his cruelty, his arrogance, his lies, his “Epstein-style” immorality, and abuse of power resulting in senseless deaths.

“He is a wonderful Christian,” I was told by a Christian leader in the USA, who happens to be a friend of mine. Another Christian leader in Tonga said, “I like Trump because he opposes abortion, the murder of unborn babies.” My response was that I am also apposed to the murder of unborn babies, but I am also opposed to the murder of those who are already born.

I do take some of this personally because as an American citizen, I am a registered Republican voter out of Hawai’i. I am also an evangelical Christian. And yet Donald Trump, President of the country of my citizenship is definitely the most tyrannical and unprincipled leader of the free world we’ve had for some time.

Resisting the Trump nonsense does not mean endorsement of Biden and Obama or the Democrats for that matter. The people of America put Trump where he is, and the people of America have allowed him to do what he has done — his illegal and cruel actions, his senseless threats, his bullying of other world leaders, and international organisations, and so much more.

Reflection of US society
It can be true that a people deserve the leader they get.

In a Republic like America, they voted him in. Trump has become a reflection of American society, a warlike people who seem to look down on everyone else, and whose history is filled with cruel takeovers like they did in Hawai’i and other Pacific Islands; wiped out hundreds of thousands in Japan with the world’s first nuclear weapons, and fought wars in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Iran supposedly “to save the world” while killing countless others.

I recently saw an anti-Trump poster that says: “There is nothing more dangerous than an idiot who thinks he is a genius!” I do not think the President of the United States is an idiot, neither do I think he is a genius. But he is dangerous because he is a so-called Christian who does un-Christian things, he is a god-worshipper whose god is himself!

I am publishing the following article by Michael Jochum which speaks for a lot of people including myself.

What we witnessed in Switzerland was not a policy address. It was an X-ray

At the World Economic Forum in Davos, Donald Trump didn’t merely embarrass the United States in front of its allies; he revealed, with clinical clarity, the pathology that now defines his presidency — and the pathology his supporters actively crave. The bluster, the grievance, the thinly veiled threats, the adolescent swagger masquerading as strength: this is not drift or decline. It is the point.

Here’s the dangerous truth that finally snaps into focus after Davos: the unhinged Trump on that stage is exactly the president his followers want. They don’t tolerate the chaos; they require it. They don’t excuse the cruelty; they cheer it. They don’t misunderstand the geopolitical land-grabs and war-mongering postures; they see them as proof of dominance. The spectacle is the substance.

What makes this moment uniquely perilous isn’t just one man’s depravity. It’s the millions who looked at that performance and thought, Finally — someone who speaks for me. We are not up against a conventional politician or an opposing platform.

We are up against a movement animated by:

The racism embedded in “Make America Great Again,” which has always translated to Make America White Again.

The misogyny that waved off “Grab ’em by the pussy” as locker-room talk and called accountability hysteria.

The anti-intellectualism that confuses cruelty with strength and treats knowledge as weakness.

A provincial, grievance-soaked worldview that mistakes bluster for leadership and exclusion for sovereignty.

Trump is not a nightmare by accident. He is the most unprepared, unqualified, and disgraced president in American history by design. A bigot. A hater. A sexist. A xenophobe. A man with the intellectual and emotional maturity of a five-year-old child. He is mentally ill. He is a pathological liar who lies about his lies. He is obsessed with verbally attacking Hillary Clinton, and he reveals his deep racism through his constant, obsessive disparagement of Barack Obama. Donald Trump is a disgrace to humanity.

I have never heard — nor am I hearing — one single coherent, rational, intelligent, informed, educated, moral, fact-based, sane, mature, patriotic, or politically valid reason to support this illiterate, illegitimate, mentally ill, fish-mouthed “president”. What I do hear, loud and ugly, is resentment, self-hatred, impotent rage, and the glee of people who seem perversely proud that they have endangered everyone in this country.

This is no longer left versus right. The real question is whether we normalise this collective sickness — or excise it before it metastasizes further.

Every time someone says, “But the economy . . .  and those illegals . . . ” to justify their support, listen closely. They are telling you exactly which part of Trump’s reflection they see themselves in.

The good news? Mirrors can be shattered. But only if we stop looking away.

— Michael Jochum

Kalafi Moala’s column was first published by Talanoa ‘o Tonga and is republished by Asia Pacific Report with permission.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

Pacific media are facing one of their most challenging reporting environments in their history, marked by governance issues, political instability, geopolitical pressures and escalating climate threats, while simultaneously grappling with declining revenue streams and threats to their financial survival.

This is highlighted in the inaugural edition of the Pacific Media academic journal, by co-editors, associate professor and head of the University of the South Pacific (USP) Journalism Programme, Dr Shailendra Singh, and co-founder of The Australia Today, Dr Amit Sarwal.

In their editorial, Dr Singh and Dr Sarwal say Pacific media systems — already vulnerable due to their small scale — continue to be hit by the collapse of traditional advertising models that once kept legacy media afloat.

They point out that although small and geographically isolated, the regional media have not been spared the ravages of digital disruption, which continues to pose a threat to the media’s traditional advertising-based revenue model. This was compounded by losses from the covid-19 pandemic.

These issues, and more, re-surfaced at the 2024 Pacific International Media Conference in Suva, Fiji. The conference, the first of its kind in 20 years, was hosted by the USP’s School of Pacific Arts, Communication and Education (Journalism), in partnership with the Pacific Islands News Association (PINA), the United States Embassy in Suva and Asia Pacific Media Network.

Selected blind peer reviewed conference papers published in Pacific Media highlight how Pacific news reporting is becoming increasingly complex and contentious, even as newsrooms face unprecedented financial and editorial pressures.

A key question explored at the conference, and a recurring theme in the journal, is how Pacific media are responding to and reporting on the overlapping challenges in the region, which have compounded the long-standing struggles to achieve sustainable development.

In his paper, Frontline media faultlines: How critical journalism can survive against the odds, the journal’s production and managing editor, veteran Pacific journalist and educator Dr David Robie warned that Pacific media face a “plethora of emerging and entrenched problems” — from collapsing business models to the rise of fake news, leadership failures, and political corruption.

Despite reporting on these issues for decades, little progress has been made even as new challenges emerge.

In The History of the Pacific Islands News Association (PINA) 1972–2023, Marsali Mackinnon and Kalafi Moala, while paying tribute to the region’s media pioneers, explore enduring questions about the state of Pacific media, especially in the context of digital disruption and revenue losses. They ask whether the industry has lost its vitality and if journalists and media workers still uphold core values like freedom of speech and impartial reporting.

The article, based on their forthcoming book chronicling PINA’s 50-year history, looks at the challenges facing Pacific media — economic, political, technological, and cultural pressures — and examines whether the principles established by postcolonial pioneers in the 1970s have been compromised.

Another paper, Women’s political empowerment in the Asia-Pacific region: The role of social media, by associate professor Baljeet Singh, Dr Singh, Nitika Nand and Shasnil Chand, examines how social media positively influences women’s political empowerment across 20 Asia-Pacific countries. Based on their findings, the authors recommend that regional governments and development partners prioritise improved connectivity and online access in deprived areas as a key strategy to empower women and strengthen their participation in politics and political leadership.

In his paper, Reporting the nuclear Pacific: Facing new geopolitical challenges, journalist and researcher Nic Maclellan revisits the Pacific’s nuclear testing legacy, highlighting the crucial role of journalists in preserving survivors’ stories. He argues that the nuclear threat in the Pacific is far from over and has re-emerged in new forms, requiring sustained media attention and critical reporting.

In his commentary, Behind the Mic: How Sashi Singh’s Talking Point helped shape Fiji’s political landscape, Sashimendra Singh reflects on the impact of his Sydney-based podcast in the lead-up to Fiji’s 2022 General Election. The former Fiji-based broadcaster interviewed key political figures, including Prime Minister Sitiveni Rabuka and the three Deputy Prime Ministers, while they were still in opposition.

Singh’s podcast tackled issues that Fiji’s suppressed national media were reluctant to address and went on to attract a large following. The article demonstrates the growing importance of diaspora media and new media technologies, showing how social media can positively circumvent censorship imposed by national authorities.

In The “Coconut Wireless”: Ways that community news endures and spreads in a news desert, Krista Rados and Brett Oppegaard address the concept of “news deserts” in the Pacific — areas where communities urgently need local information but lack trustworthy sources. This paper highlights the enduring strengths of social media in fostering journalism in remote, sparsely populated, and underdeveloped communities.

Pacific Media, launched last year, succeeds the long-running Pacific Journalism Review, which began at the University of Papua New Guinea in 1994 and was archived after 30 years of publication. PJR is now a public database for research.

This inaugural edition is a collaboration between USP, the Asia Pacific Media Network (APMN), and Tuwhera Open Access platform, aimed at documenting the rapid transformations shaping journalism in the region — and how Pacific media can navigate an increasingly turbulent future.

Some other key papers include:

This article was first published by Wansolwara News and is republished by Asia Pacific Report as a collaboration between the University of the South Pacific and Asia Pacific Media Network.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

Internationally, we are marking the 2025 Human Rights Day at a time of extraordinary retreat from human rights protection across the World. Every human right, every breach of human right and every advance in the protection of human rights must matter equally to us.

The frameworks for human rights protection are well established internationally reflecting the genesis of the international system in the horrors of the Second World War. Social, cultural, political, women’s, indigenous, children’s, and all fundamental human rights are well protected in international laws that have evolved since then.

What may seem like a paralysis in protection of fundamental human rights internationally today does not arise from the absence of protections in international law but from the fractures that characterise the international interstate system in a phase of severe disruption.

The significant advances in protection of human rights internationally arose from a rare postwar geopolitical consensus. That global consensus is dead.

Though the UN Charter and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights have their origins in this context, it was not until 2008 that the UN made an explicit resolution on human rights and climate change stating that climate change posed a real and substantial threat to the full enjoyment of human rights.

The Pacific’s human rights story
When the Blue Pacific discusses human rights impacts of climate change, it is shaped by our lived realities. The fundamental right to life in the Pacific is persistently harmed by heat stress.

It is estimated that more than 1200 deaths annually are now attributed to heat stress.

The fundamental right to health is eroded by growing illnesses and diseases arising from rising temperatures. Across the Pacific, well in excess of 1000 deaths are already attributed to climate change related illnesses annually.

The fundamental right to water faces worsening pressures arising from sea water intrusion into ground water, more frequent and prolonged droughts and sewage contamination of water systems as a result of floodings.

The fundamental right to food is persistently harmed by rising surface and ocean temperatures and experienced through failed crops, subsistence farms destroyed by winds and rains, collapse of coral reef systems and with that oceanic foods.

Indigenous people’s rights are similarly persistently harmed as communities across Melanesia undertake climate change induced migration without corresponding transfer of land and other social and cultural rights.

In Tuvalu and atoll states these are likely to lead to more unsettling outcomes as their small and culturally compact communities get thinly dispersed across larger countries such as New Zealand, Australia and Fiji.

Policy choices are needed to respond to worsening human rights protection that are a consequence of climate change.

Climate change and human rights in Pacific education
The right to education is one of foundational rights in international law. Having access to continuous, safe and quality education is the foundation for the enjoyment of this right.

Every time a student misses school because the river that she crosses is flooded or at risk of flooding, that student is denied the full enjoyment of this right. Learning days lost are increasing in Fiji and Melanesia generally. This has lifelong consequences.

The more painful reality is that learning loss is felt so unevenly. It is often people in our poorest households who stay in most flood-prone areas.

In Fiji’s case it is also the case too many I-Taukei settlements/villages are in flood prone areas or in areas more likely to be cut off from school access roads and bridges.

The average day time surface temperatures has increased between 1-3 degrees Celsius across the Pacific within a space of four decades. It may be much higher in schools in urban areas. The safe classroom temperatures for children are 24-26 degrees Celsius at the upper end.

In many schools, classroom temperatures are well above 30C for days on end. The health impacts of prolonged exposure to these temperature are seen through general weaknesses, fainting, headaches and fatigue.

I know of no school that systematically monitors classroom temperatures. I have heard of schools closing down for a day or two when the risks of flooding are high. I have not heard of schools being closed when temperatures are in the mid-30s during periods of high humidity.

Quite shockingly, school building and major repairs are still being carried out in so many schools in exactly the same way as they were done 4-5 decades ago.

The human rights context in education is profoundly gendered. Some of these simply arise from the fact that decisions are made by male leaders.

When reconstruction of several schools in Vanua Levu happened a few years back, boys’ and girls’ hostels needed to be rebuilt following one of the recent cyclones.

The boys’ hostels were reconstructed within a year of two back-to-back cyclones. A 100 percent of the hostel boys were back in school.

The girl’s hostel took another year to be up and running. Only one girl returned to school from those who were resident in hostels during the cyclone year.

A whole generation of girls in the middle to high schools from one of the most disadvantages regions of our country and from some of the most economically disadvantaged communities had simply dropped out of school.

This is a story that repeats itself in so many ways each across the Pacific.

Health, human rights and climate change
As with education, universal access to the sufficient health care constitutes yet another core human right.

One of the worst and least understood aspects of the health and climate change interface in the Pacific is its impacts on mental health.

Following extreme weather events — mental health consequences linger for long periods and most intensely among young children. When winds pick up ever so slightly, many children in schools get frightened — scared — quietly reliving their trauma in full view of teachers who are poorly trained to understand what is happening.

But the health consequences of climate change are far broader. Influenza, dengue including in off seasons, leptospirosis are profoundly impacting our communities. Loss of concentration, performance and worsening learning outcomes are some of these harsh trendlines inside classrooms.

Growing food insecurity
The right to food is a core part of our global human rights architecture. A few years back I had the great pleasure of visiting several schools in Vanua Levu.

I have taught in Fiji’s high schools. I know what I am talking about in a deeply personal way. Nothing prepared me for this.

The numbers/percentages of children who came to schools without lunch was just shocking. Nearly a third of students in one the classes that I visited came to school without lunch that morning.

Rates of stunting rates of children in primary schools (in peri and urban areas) in Fiji can be as high as 10 percent. Stunting rates are much higher in PNG at nearly 50 percent — one of the highest in the world.

Nutritional deprivation leads to delayed cognitive development and over time harms performance. Damage from stunting has life long and intergenerational consequences.
How does climate change feature in this?

The most obvious one is that global warming impacts on our coral reef systems. There is a near collapse of oceanic foods across so many Pacific’s coastal communities.

Equally on the high lands of PNG, delayed precipitation, prolonged rains and droughts harm and overtime irreversibly erode food security. This has widespread consequences.

Food insecurity, gender violence and inter-community conflict are a growing part of the Blue Pacific’s climate story.

Human rights, climate change and cultural and political rights
Nowhere does climate change demonstrate the scale of its destructiveness as in our closest atoll state neighbour.

Tuvalu may be uninhabitable within 4-6 decades even with the adaptation measures underway. It is forced to contemplate the real prospects of near total loss of land. The state has taken protective measures by amending its constitution to preserve sovereignty under any scenario.

Fiji and fellow PIF members have undertaken to respect its sovereignty under any climate scenario.

Compared with PNG, Solomon Islands and Fiji where communities are being relocated, the human rights and climate story of Tuvalu is of a different order altogether. Land rights, cultural rights are rooted and grounded. They do not move when communities are relocated. Relocations are deeply disrespectful of all rights — including cultural, social rights.

It is indeed possible that its whole populations in time may come to be dispersed outside of Tuvalu — in Australia through the Falepili Treaty, in Fiji and in New Zealand. Small and dispersed communities will over time lose their language. They are over time likely to lose many elements of their Tuvaluan identity.

Indigenous and cultural rights are rooted to land and oceans in such deep ways. These rights are recognised as fundamental human rights internationally. Global warming and rising seas treat these rights with callous disregard.

From a 1.5 to 2.8C world
The Blue Pacific has to fight the battle of our lives to return the planet to a 1.5C pathway. No one will do this for us. All our economic forecasting today are based on 1.5C  temperature increase. But the reality is that we are on course for a 2.8C or perhaps even a post 3.0C world.

The consequences of a 3.0C future on human rights of people across the Pacific Islands are unimaginable. For a start, most of the existing infrastructure, school buildings , health centres, data centers are simply not built to withstand 450 km/h winds.

Most of the Pacific’s towns and settlements are coastal. Our entire tourism infrastructure is barely a few metres above sea level. In Melanesia alone there are more than 600 schools that need to be relocated and/or rebuilt.

Several hundred health centres need to be moved. These are estimates based on 1.5C — not twice that. The near total collapse of coastal fisheries is almost a foregone conclusion at anywhere above 2.0C. The silliest thing we can do as a region and as a people is to not prepare for a 3.0C world.

Shaping our story of hope
On the 2025 Human Rights Day, I have reflected on the broad and deep impacts on human rights that directly result from climate change. Ours is a story of hope.

On this day, then let me celebrate the extraordinary leadership shown by Pacific’s students who took the world to court — to the International Court of Justice (ICJ) and won.

We owe such an extraordinary gratitude to Fiji’s Vishal Prasad, Cynthia Houniuhi, Solomon Yeo from Solomon Islands and that small group of university students at USP who decided to take on the world. We celebrate Vanuatu’s leadership on all our behalf. Collective action matters.

We make a difference as individuals. We make a difference as a people and as large ocean states. I urge that we deepen our shared understanding of the unfolding universe of elevated human rights vulnerabilities across the Pacific.

Sharing our stories, deepening our understanding of interlinkages between human rights and global warming and beginning honest conversations about things taboo are foundational starting points.

In universities, this may mean adding climate change and human rights legal studies so that graduates leave with a firmer understanding of the world they will enter into.

At medical schools, this means integrating climate change into how human health is studied and researched.

In social science schools, that means advancing our understanding of the rapid evolution of kinship, leadership and culture in traditional Fijian and Pacific societies in a climate changed context.

In communications and journalism programmes, this may mean preparing students to communicate climate crisis with humility, sensitivity and empathy.

As responsible employers, we may be able to lead by ensuring that human rights protection arising from climate change are as mainframed as is possible. Being able to provide the level of sociopsychological support to students and staff bearing the silent scars of slow onset or climate catastrophes would be another great start.

This may include, as well, the simplest of things such as allowing paid compassionate leave for staff to recover from climate change related extreme weather events. In the longer term, the employment laws of Pacific Island states will need to catch up.

I have advised many Pacific island countries to take a hard look at even their school calendar. Few schools measure class room temperatures today.

Our colonial legacy has shaped the school year. We today subject our students to their final examinations when the temperatures inside class rooms are the highest. We today pressure students to prepare for their exams in the months when the chances of catastrophic events are the highest and the chances of illness that are climate change induced are the highest.

A school calendar that is climate informed and that protects human rights in the education context is more likely to commence the school year in September (third term) and conclude exams by August (end of second term).

All of these things are within our gift. We do not need international conferences or even international assistance to do all of these as the changes needed are so simple and so basic.

Building blocs for advancing human rights in a climate changed world:

• First is that individual and communities need to know how their fundamental rights are impacted by climate change. This is a task for all of us — not governments alone.
• Across the region, so many laws and legislative frameworks need to be revised to reflect how climate change and human rights play out. How many hours should an agricultural worker or road construction worker be working when temperatures are higher than 1.5C.
• For employers and service providers, what are the human rights obligations in a climate changed context? What does the waiting room in a health care facility look like in a 1.5C temperature increase and in a 3.0 degree world? They surely cannot be the same.
• National human rights and legal settings need to pay systematic attention to human rights and climate change. This means ensuring that national human rights agencies and courts build up their capabilities to provide the necessary jurisprudence; and our citizens both supported and empowered to approach courts and relevant agencies.
• Internationally, the Pacific Island states including Pacific Islands Forum (PIF) are well advised to ramp up their presence internationally. The next decade must be the decade when the region pushes the boundaries of international law. The decade following that may just be too late.

A Pacific Pre-COP31
I am delighted to have been invited to deliver my remarks so soon after COP30 and well in time for reflections for Pacific’s preparations for Pre-COP31. This climate conference to be held in the Pacific next year will be a great opportunity to bring a consolidated understanding of how fundamental human rights are being harmed by runaway climate change.

Shape this well — together, respectfully and with humility. We can present our agenda for advancing human rights protection in the Pacific powerfully at this Pre-COP.

As a region, we need to begin to win the argument about climate change in the theatres of international public opinion. Lobbyists and interests groups — including much of the global mainstream media — so wedded to petro interests appear to be winning.

We need to tell our stories with clarity and with impact. We need to back that with strategic bargains in all our international relations. A Pre-COP in the Pacific gives us a real chance of doing so.

Thank you for marking the 2025 International Human Rights Day in this way.

This speech about climate change and human rights was delivered by Dr Satyendra Prasad, the climate lead at Abt Global and Fiji’s former ambassador to the United Nations, during the 2025 Human Rights Day on December 10 at the University of Fiji. It is republished from Wansolwara News as part of Asia Pacific Report’s collaboration with the University of the South Pacific Journalism Programme.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz