Of trials in Tahiti, and

a talkative Minister

For months, French Polynesia’s procureur (attorney general) built up his case against the toto tupuna activists who bombed the Papeete telephone exchange and mur dered a French businessman in August-September last year (PIM, Nov, p 16).

Eventually, the date for the big trial was set for May 10, and it seemed a foregone conclusion that the accused would all suffer the death penalty.

At the same time, the ‘bothersome’ Charlie Ching, presi dent of the Polynesian Independence Party, was to be disposed of for good with a life sentence for his alleged crime of consorting with these politically-motivated young Tahitians (PIM, MAY, p3l).

Then, in a great anti-climax, on the day before it was to open, the whole trial was postponed. What had happened was that friends and relatives of the accused had taken the unprecedented step of engaging as defence lawyers four outsiders well-known for their espousal of civil and human

rights causes.

Two of them, de Felice and Sarda, were metropolitan Frenchmen, one was the famous Swiss barrister Nicolet, and the fourth a Tahitian barrister, Tehio, a resident of New Caledonia.

It took this quartet only a few hours to discover anomalies in the local judicial system and in the pre-trial procedures so serious that they decided to lodge an appeal to a higher court in France.

Especially revolting, in their opinion, was the biased selection of the jury, still based on a colonial decree of 1933 which disqualifies from jury service persons who cannot read or write French, as well as “servants”.

Accordingly, without even bothering to apply any language proficiency tests, all procureurs have ever since consistently selected as jurors French and part-French businessmen and government employees, although the solid majority of the population, 80%, consists of

Polynesians.

The French court of appeal is bound to hand down a decision within three months. However, legal experts here consider it most unlikely that the defence lawyers’ request to have the accused tried in France will be granted. Such a decision would constitute a potentially dangerous breach in the present legal system here.

The chances are equally slim that the trial of the accused toto tupuna will be transferred, as requested by them, to the Special State Security Tribunal, permitting them to be judged not as common criminals but as politically motivated freedom fighters.

Another example of the survival of colonial-type justice is offered by a trial that did take place a few weeks ago in Raiatea.

Nano Tanoa, the 22-year-old man in the dock, is a typical product of the vicious, new social and economic forces at work in the islands, since the nuclear era began 15 years ago.

Tanoa’s difficulties began when, at the age of 18, he moved from his home island of Huahine to Papeete. Like thousands of lads from the outer islands, he felt lost and bewildered in the harsh new urban environment, and soon took to drinking. But it was not until he had completed his military service in France that he began committing assaults and robberies.

He was sentenced first to six months, and then to two years, the latter term to be served in Raiatea.

In accordance with long-established practice, Polynesian, but not French, prisoners are often employed in the house holds and gardens of high-ranking French officials. Which explains why, on French National Day last year, Tanoa was hauled out of prison and entrusted with the rather pleasant task of mixing drinks for the guests of the French adminis trator of the Leeward Islands, at the glittering garden party he gave at his residency on Raiatea.

Naturally, Tanoa also served himself rather generously.

This kindled a fire that soon spread to his whole body, and, without anyone noticing, he sneaked away from the party and began looking for a female companion with whom he might share his euphoria. Having entered a house where he saw a Polynesian girl of adult years, according to the local standard (she was 15), he grabbed a kitchen knife and invited the girl to come outside. She was not particularly scared or unwilling, and intercourse took place in the gar den. In the end, Tanoa let a warder lead him peacefully back to the prison.

Appearing in court 11 months later, Tanoa was sentenced to 13 years at hard labour for rape. Nobody should now be surprised if Tanoa one day joins a toto tupuna gang and takes to mixing much stronger stuff than whiskies and rum punches Molotov cocktails, for example.

The most important event in French Polynesia during recent months (or so at least the local administration would have us believe) has been the visit of the new minister for French overseas departments and territories, Mr Paul

Dijoud.

The minister turned out to be an exact replica of his nu merous predecessors, all wearing dark suits and ties and all making practically identical speeches.

It must be admitted, however, that from the quantitative viewpoint Mr Dijoud’s performance was particularly im pressive. As he was coming down the steps of the plane that brought him from France he started talking. He didn’t stop for the next five days, until the very minute he disap peared into the plane that took him back to Paris.

The message he had to convey differed in no way from that of his predecessors; the French army and administra tion are here to stay, for the great benefit of the whole popu lation.

The only aspect of Dijoud’s marathon oratorical effort not reported by the local mass media was his speech to the special conference of French ambassadors accredited to Pacific countries which took place during his visit.

Enough is known, however, to enable us to affirm that the main aim of this closely guarded conference was to co ordinate the often arduous tasks faced by these diplomats in defending French nuclear testing and colonial rule in the Pacific against rude critics, especially in New Zealand and Australia.

Personally, we two feel rather proud that our own small efforts excited some comment at this august assembly.

Very honourably, the participants seem to have concluded that nothing can be done to punish us for our insolent books and articles, short of expelling us from the island that is our home.

But expelling writers simply because of their non conformist opinions and their habit of telling unpleasant truths is, after all, a totalitarian method that has been repudiated time and again in the strongest terms by most democratic countries, including France.

Marie-Therese and Bengt Danielsson.