The dynamics of Papua New Guinea's democracy: an essay

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PACIFIC ECONOMIC BULLETIN

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Pacific Economic Bulletin Volume 22 Number 1 March 2007 © Asia Pacific Press

The dynamics of Papua New Guinea’sdemocracy: an essay

Bill StandishVisiting Fellow, College of Arts and Social Sciences, The Australian National University

Some observers have taken the freneticparticipation by Papua New Guinea’speoples in national elections and the country’sconstitutional and smooth changes of primeministers and transfers of governments tomean that the country has a robust and viabledemocracy.1 Yet, asserting their citizens’ rightsas consumers, many Papua New Guineansdecry the performance of their political andbureaucratic institutions of governance. Forthem, ‘the system’ is not delivering. In muchof the country the capacities of governmentinstitutions are over-stretched: most urbanand rural people suffer from collapsing roads,and declining schools, health and other basicservices. The state cannot control crime andthe public are intensely cynical aboutpoliticians. As R.J. May argues,’policy-makingtends to be short-term and capricious,governments have difficulty implementingdecisions’ (2001:323). Despite this, thecountry’s democratic political institutionssurvive, with a frenzy of participation eachfive-year elections cycle. Once a new govern-ment is formed political participation declinesand the country’s well-designed accountabilityprocesses often lose effectiveness.

Topographic divisions and variedecological and resource bases underlie

Papua New Guinea’s modern andtraditional subsistence economies andpopulation concentrations, and in turn theygreatly influence political contestation. Thedispersed and unevenly developed economy,as well as social divisions rooted in thepeople’s social structures and cultures,heighten developmental inequities andhence political discontent. The effectivenessof Papua New Guinea’s political institutions,both in the constitutional sense and inrecurrent patterns of political behaviour, isalso influenced by its colonial and post-colonial history. Since independence in 1975,conflict within the 20 provincial govern-ments,2 and between provinces and thenational parliamentarians, has fostered thegrowth of crude ‘money politics’ andweakened the quality of governancenationally. This paper does not explore thehistory of provincial governments, althoughmuch of the analysis of the nature of PapuaNew Guinea’s national politics presentedbelow also applies to this level of government.

Papua New Guinea’s political leadersresent any criticism of the quality of theirdemocracy, and point to regular, highlycontested elections and the seven smoothconstitutional changes of government after

http://peb.anu.edu.au/pdf/PEB22-1Standish.pdfThe delivery and effectiveness of Australia’s bilateral aid program in Papua New Guinea

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general elections, resignations or the threesuccessful votes of no confidence in the1980s. However, critics have queried theintegrity of parliamentary elections,especially after the turbulent and chaoticallyadministered elections of June–July 2002(Chin 2003; Gelu 2003; Standish 2003). Thelate Sir Anthony Siaguru, the distinguishedbureaucrat, lawyer and commentator,described those elections as ‘a debacle’, andsaid that the country needs to ask ‘whetherthe electoral process has been so seriouslycompromised because of a combination ofdisenfranchisement and manipulation thatdemocracy in Papua New Guinea has beenput at risk’ (Post-Courier, 28 June 2003).

This essay seeks to suggest some answersto the deceptively simple question ‘How doesPNG politics tick?’ Here I examine some ofthe factors and forces within Papua NewGuinea that influence the imperatives of PNGpolitics. The first of these is the shape of theeconomy and its linkages with the state. Thenext are the fundamental building blocks ofthe Melanesian societies in Papua NewGuinea. Sir Mekere Morauta (Prime Minister1999–2002), initiated institutional reforms inorder to improve the functioning of PapuaNew Guinea’s constitution and ultimatelythe processes of politics and governing thatwe call governance. This paper looks at theearly impacts of these changes to votingsystems and the regulation of politicalparties. It then explores whether the logic ofthe PNG parliamentary game has reallychanged. I briefly examine whether the voteof no confidence mechanism enables thelegislature to control the executive, and theanti-corruption agenda. The essay concludesthat the interaction of highly localisedelectoral politics and provincial powerstructures under the constitution has helpedpreclude the development of a nationalpolitical agenda, and ultimately ofresponsible and responsive government.

The survivability of PNGdemocracy

Life has been tough in Papua New Guineafor much the last 10 years, with high rates ofinflation until 2003 and declining govern-ment services; yet, except for the Sandlinemercenary affair of 1997,3 there has been nomass protest demanding the overthrow of thegovernment. In fact governments appear tobe almost immune to public opinion, and thefickleness, cynicism or forgetfulness of thepublic allow elected governments to beunresponsive to public sentiment. In formalterms, democratic rule survives in PapuaNew Guinea. Some would say it thrives,despite poor performance and obviousinstitutional frailty.

Democracy means much more than theregular holding of free and fair elections. Tobe an effective mode of governance democracyalso requires an executive which is responsibleto the legislature, and representatives whoare responsive to the electorate; ongoingparticipation by citizens is essential. Thecountry’s first parliamentary elections wereheld in 1964, 1968 and 1972, well beforeindependence in 1975. Since then there havebeen seven general elections and six primeministers (three of whom have been recycledmore than once). The performances ofsuccessive parliaments and governmentshave been identified by PNG commentatorsas the cause of poor governance (Okole 2002).Often the strongest critics of Papua NewGuinea’s politics have been governmentministers, including the then Prime MinisterSir Mekere Morauta (Standish 2000). Therewas widespread chaos and malpractice inthe June–July 2002 national elections, whichreduced their value as a test of publicsentiment. Yet we can say that many peoplewere able to express their disillusionmentwith the109 parliamentarians. They werechallenged by 2,769 opponents seeking to

The delivery and effectiveness of Australia’s bilateral aid program in Papua New GuineaSubmission 25 - Attachment 2

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replace them; and, in the 103 seats declared,over 75 per cent of sitting Members ofParliament (MPs) were rejected (Fraenkel2004).

After the 2002 election, just as in 1997,several PNG leaders said that the electoralsystem was not working effectively. In 2002both national and foreign observers wereunanimous in their concern about what wasdubbed the ‘worst election ever’ (Chin 2003;Gelu 2003; May 2003), in which the capacityof the state to manage this complex processwas totally overwhelmed in the nationalcapital and in many rural areas. Some PapuaNew Guinean academics argue that thecountry’s democracy system does not workand that there is widespread publicdisillusionment with the entire system ofelected governments.

The National Alliance led by Sir MichaelSomare (from 2005 Grand Chief Sir Michael)emerged after the mid 2002 elections as thelargest party, with 19 of the 103 MPs.According to the new rules, discussed below,its leader was offered first chance at forminga government on the floor of the NationalParliament. Accordingly, Sir Michael,although damaged by the Pelair scandal inthe mid 1980s,4 and replaced as Pangu partyleader in May 1988, was re-elected for hisfourth term as Prime Minister in August2002. At Kokopo town the coalition membershad gathered to make an ‘irrevocableagreement’ on policies and to stay together.Somare’s government has survived, but withsome changed composition, including fourdeputy prime ministers. Almost from itsinception, there were attempts by cabinetmembers to replace the Treasurer, BartPhilemon, who was resented because of histight economic management, but he hung onin government until April 2006. Within twoyears there were signs that several partieshad followed what appears to be aMelanesian cultural trait of political fission.The Opposition New Guinea Party (the

rebadged Peoples Democratic Movement) ledby Morauta saved the government in May2004 by crossing the floor. Morauta’sparticular concern appeared to be damagewhich he expected a change of governmentwould cause to responsible economicmanagement.

The economy and state capacities

The intensity of political competition reflectsthe weakness of both the political andadministrative systems, but the logic of PNGpolitics also derives from the structure of thesociety and its economic base. The state canonly deliver what the economic base provides,so the economy strongly influences politicsand government programs. The state inPapua New Guinea faces significant fiscalconstraints, and since 1999 any fiscaldiscipline imposed has lapsed in the run-upto elections.5 Until recently, inflation has beenhigh after a decade of deficit financing, realincomes have been declining, and formalsector employment is almost static. Peopleare struggling to make ends meet in urbanareas. The country’s population has doubledsince 1975. During that time the bureaucracyand security forces have not grown much(indeed the Defence Force has been halvedsince 2001). Despite claims the public serviceis ‘bloated’, this relates more to the state’scapacity to pay, rather than the public’s needfor state services. Public servants are oftenunable to perform their roles for lack ofoperating funds, combined with lack oftraining, rather than because theirdesignated roles are unnecessary.

The allocations of personnel to provincesstill reflect the levels of development in thelate colonial era. Less-developed provincesin the Highlands, for example, haveproportionately fewer health and teachingstaff, and lower per capita expenditures, thanareas with smaller populations such as the


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New Guinea Islands provinces. Averageeconomic growth rates over the last threedecades have been low, less than populationgrowth rates, and in real terms budgetaryresources have declined. Physical infra-structure has been allowed to run down forlack of maintenance. State services, particularlyeducation, health and agricultural extension,have declined markedly in most mainlandprovinces, especially since the revenueshocks and structural adjustments resultingfrom the closure of the Bougainville coppermine in 1989, and the 1994 currencydevaluation and subsequent float.

Papua New Guinea had begun asocioeconomic modernisation revolution inthe colonial era. Since then economic changehas been uneven and spasmodic, leading todisappointed expectations. In the 1960s theeconomy was dominated by plantation-based commodities such as coffee, copra andcocoa, which employed many people butwhich in recent decades have lost value inthe world market. Since independence therural economy has largely been ignored byboth provincial and national governments(Baxter 2001). Production declined seriouslyin the 1990s, partly because of poor roadsand banditry. Similarly, high security costsin towns and cities have inhibited small scaleprivate sector foreign investment. Successivegovernments have put all their efforts intocapturing benefits (rent) from the export ofraw materials—logs, metal ores andhydrocarbons.

Large-scale mining had restartedspectacularly with the Bougainville copperand gold mine in the early 1970s, followedby the Ok Tedi copper mine in 1985, andMisima, Porgera and Lihir gold mines in the1990s. Mines are easy to tax and theirrevenues have funded the state for decades,until recently roughly matching the real-termdecline in aid revenues since independence.Mining has never created large-scaleemployment; however. The minerals and

petroleum sector boom of the early 1990s wasin decline for several years (Baxter 2001).Then with tax incentives from 2004exploration started to increase and the recentglobal commodities boom has led toincreased investment, but with major delaysin the exploitation of natural gas.

Despite the growth of new sectors in theeconomy development has not been broad-based, and engaged many people orelectorates. In particular, potentiallyrenewable resources have not been wellmanaged, and indeed politicians who canserve as gatekeepers to foreign operatorshave allegedly been bought off on manyoccasions. The logging industry boomed forten years from the mid 1980s until the Asianeconomic crises of 1997–98, but was never alarge employer of PNG nationals. Corruptrelationships have been documentedbetween parts of the timber industry andpoliticians and officials, with the formerappearing to influence not only the relevantminister but at times the majority ofparliamentarians. The industry has neverbeen taxed effectively, despite the advice ofinternational aid donors and the World Bank,so this potential revenue stream has neverbeen realised, and there been profligate lossof the resource and environmental damage.Timber exports are currently expandingagain, mainly to feed booming demand fromChina. Interestingly, the industry sees theneed to run a constant public relationscampaign asserting its contribution to thenational economy. Several PNG ministers forfishing have also been rather loose in issuingfishing licences, and not adhered to the multi-lateral Pacific Islands fishing regime. PapuaNew Guinea’s manufacturing sector isminimal, sometimes heavily protected withsweetheart monopoly deals such as those forcement and sugar, and the urban economiesare essentially confined to service industriesand imported consumer durables and capitalgoods.


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Increasingly the political andbureaucratic élites have focussed theirenergies on the readily taxable, big money-earning sectors such as mining, and haveconcentrated on the distribution of statefunds and resources rather than growing thecountry’s income and employment base. Insummary, Papua New Guinea has become arentier state, surviving on income fromresource projects, in particular large foreigncompanies, and exports. These revenues arecollected by the central government, whichfor most provinces is the source of about 90per cent of revenues. Unless they have a richminerals or petroleum economy, provinceshave little capacity to influence the nationalgovernment. There are few centralgovernment controls over large royaltyrevenues paid to the mining and petroleumprovinces, and these are often dispersedcasually and wasted. Political action isdirected towards the central governmentwhich may issue the licences, but the state isalso locked in through a shareholding. Exceptin the case of Bougainville, which sharescontrol over any mining proposals,provinces have little power over majoreconomic projects.

Given the small private sector, the statehas had a considerable role in Papua NewGuinea’s underdeveloped economy since thecolonial era. There is not a large domesticincome tax base and the state has haddifficulty collecting sales taxes and theirreplacement, the value-added tax, which islargely based on imported goods notdomestic production. Poll taxes, known as‘head taxes’ and imposed by the colonialregime, were minimal, but were abandonedby local government councils in the early1970s because the administration no longerhad the capacity or will to collect them.Reinstituted local-level government headtaxes were authorised in the 2004 Budgetalthough in almost all areas the state stilllacks the capacity to collect them. The

inability to tax its own population is one signof a politically weak state.

State spending is a major driving forcein the economy, and individuals seekingpersonal advancement usually do so throughgaining a position in the state, or obtainingstate funds through business or other means.The economic centrality of the statepoliticises public employment, as educatedpeople seek to gain advancement in thebureaucracy and resources through politicalmeans. Aside from the narrow surge inminerals revenues from 2005 onwards, staterevenues have declined in real terms andvarious other opportunities are shrinking.

The political impacts of this history areprofound. Paradoxically, despite its limitedcapacities and lack of resources, the under-developed state attracts intensified politicalcompetition, as was shown in the 2002election with its 21 per cent increase in thenumber of candidates. MPs now havediscretionary control of the limited fundsavailable to provinces, after public servantand teachers’ salaries have been paid by thenational government, and so voters aredesperate to elect their candidate in order tocontrol a slice of the shrinking availablerevenues. People see politics as the only wayof obtaining benefits that they once obtainedfrom the state in the form of services.

Varied political styles

Politics can become the quickest path to self-advancement for educated people, so manyrural people and ambitious individuals seekto mobilise support among their small-scaleMelanesian societies to get elected. For theirlaunching pads most use village, clan andtribal corporate groupings that rarely exceeda few thousand people. These political basesshould not be described as ‘ethnic groups’(contra Reilly 2001); ethnic group is a termbest applied to new identities that are


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constantly evolving in urban areas. Often thevote bases of many candidates share acommon culture and language. Although thepeoples of Papua New Guinea do still speak840 vernaculars, there are some languageswhose speakers cover several electorateseach of 30,000 or more voters. In theHighlands, for instance, there are twolanguages spoken by over 100,000 people,who share a culture but are also dividedalong administrative (district) lines. Theirindigenous social structures are clans andtribes from 1,500 to 10,000 people. In the eraof colonially imposed peace, it was believedthat these local communities governedthemselves by consensus, with leaders (thenoften called ‘big-men’) attracting followersand basing their influence and renown ontheir linking role in the nexus betweengroups, and redistributing valued goodsproduced within the local economy.

This model of Melanesian tradition hasinfluenced the ideology of contemporarypolitics, although today a clever politicianwill show that he (usually ‘he’) knows howto obtain and manipulate the distribution ofresources from outside the community, andpreferably from the state. Generoushospitality and gifts of money are commonin election campaigns. In a few areas,including Port Moresby, some candidates tryto adapt this model using cash, or gifts tochurches and sporting teams or dancegroups, claiming this is traditionalbehaviour, not bribery. In the Highlands,especially, some candidates spend up to amillion kina.6 Sometimes this rash spendingworks and the candidate is elected, butmostly it fails.

What developed late in the colonial erawas the role of parliamentarians as local‘bosses’, with considerable patronage todistribute. Patron–client politics is playedwith state resources across the country, butwith varying degrees of subtlety and successin linking leadership aspirants with the

community. Usually only about 45 per centof MPs are re-elected. As noted above, in 2002the success rate was nearer half that. Clearlythe ‘slush’ funds available to MPs—with awhole calendar year’s allowance paid beforethe mid-year election—do not necessarilycreate enough support to ensure re-election.The public’s demand is insatiable, and anMP’s unwise distribution of such funds orfailure to distribute them frequently causesresentment among the electorate. Some MPsagree that the system creates antagonism andprovokes opposition, but argue that theirelectorates now expect these handouts. Theyfeel locked in to this wasteful system. Thesefunds certainly increase the incentives forchallengers to oppose them. With an averageof 26 candidates per seat in 2002 under thefirst-past-the-post voting system, only a smallvote was needed to gain election. The majorityof MPs won their seats with less than 17 percent of the vote; 16 won with less than 10 percent (Fraenkel 2004).

It is possible to make some general-isations about styles of politics andelectioneering in different regions of PapuaNew Guinea.7 First of all, very few womenare elected, four in 30 years, and only one of62 women candidates won in 2002. Second,campaigning is most intense in the Highlands,where clan groups are much larger andconcentrated geographically than thedispersed clans of coastal areas and islands,and where candidate numbers per electoratehave often been double the numberscampaigning in lowland areas.

In the central Highlands valleys, clansolidarity and tribal voting was strong from1964 to 1987. There may have only been onecandidate among several tribes in the 1970s,so they had a large base vote. Although it isinappropriate to claim that the number ofcandidates is a proxy for the number of clans,and each clan has a candidate,8 clanmembers do often want a clan candidate. Thewomen as much as the men take pride in


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nominating one of their number, benefitdirectly from campaign generosity and enjoythe excitement in specially constructedcampaign houses (McLeod 2002). In the lastdecade the previous large scale groupcohesion has been breaking down as moreand more candidates stand, sometimessplitting the tribe or even the clan base vote.In Chimbu in 2002 such splits led toassassination, and serious gun fighting andscorched earth tactics.

Local issues and identities are extremelyimportant, far more so than party member-ship, policies or even money. As Joe Ketan(2004) argues, group pride is of supremeimportance in Mount Hagen society, and overthe years inter-group relations are carefullymanaged for use in elections. He calls thisthe Hagen mega-cycle. Local loyalties arereinforced by gifting within clans and tribesand beyond as candidates seek to lock in alarge base vote. Electoral alliances are createdthrough warfare, marriages, funerals andother exchanges of wealth. It is often arguedthat these are traditional units, but they needto be reinforced. They can be fragmented if arival seeks support among the samecommunities and obligates people bycompetitive gifting. People accept electionsweeteners from more than one candidateand then have to chose between them, or theyvote more than once for different candidates(Lakane and Gibbs 2003). This is one reasonwhy over the past 20 years some candidateshave used firearms as a stick to enforce theircarrots, and ensure that they receive votes inreturn for their campaign inducements.Firearms are displayed before elections topressure voters, and sometimes on voting dayto intimidate polling teams and ensure thatevery available ballot paper is used. Theseweapons may not be fired in anger until afterthe election, when in the cold light of defeatbad losers too often take out their anger onpeople who had clearly failed to deliver thepromised or expected votes.

PNG politics has often been describedin ethnic terms, and around 25 years agoresearchers tested out class analysis. Onlyrarely can large internal sectors of a provinceor electorate share a degree of ethnic identitythat can be mobilised effectively, sometimeswith a degree of coercion. This was the casein the 2004 Chimbu by-election when therewas only one candidate from ChuaveDistrict. It also happened in the Chimbuelection of 1982. After a series of killings bymen from then Deputy Prime MinisterOkuk’s tribe, southerners calling themselvesBomai united behind a single Guminecandidate, John Nilkare; and at the same time11 fellow northerners together split Okuk’sbase areas, thereby enabling Nilkare to holdthe lead under the first-past-the-post system.

Interestingly, there are elements of ethnicmobilisation among immigrant communitiesin the big cities, Port Moresby and Lae. Someof these people from the Highlands are largeenough to win or and definitely influenceresults in urban seats. Port Moresby city hasseen rough-house politics in the last 15 years,with commentators saying Highlands-stylepolitics has come to town. In mid 2002 somesupporters of a Highlander had their houseand business burnt, and tactics such asstealing ballot boxes and papers hasoccurred in the national capital since 1992.Competition is intensifying in Lae, with anattempt to unite a Morobe province resistanceto outsiders.

In the coastal and island regions,societies are comprised of much smaller clanand village units, and some villagescomprise several clans. In these regionscandidates must mobilise numerous smallsocial units, sometimes across several localvernacular languages (or ethnic groups), tohave a chance of winning an election.Candidacy and campaigning are reportedlyfar more individualistic, based very much onthe personal qualities and familyrelationships of the individual. These


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qualities may include training and skills, butoften include factors such as church member-ship and perceived piety, as well as personalgenerosity and capacity for dedication andhard work. Campaigning may includecosmopolitan modern men sponsoringtraditional funerals, compensation paymentsand dance groups, but what has come to becalled ‘money politics’ and extravagantcampaign generosity is far less prominent,and less successful than in the Highlands.

Across the entire country, intenselocalism is an essential component ofelectoral success, along with personal style.National issues are not especially salient inthe 89 Open electorates, or even in the 20 seatscovering entire provinces. As discussedbelow, this means that MPs do not owe theirelection to membership in national politicalparties, although close relationships with anational party leader may increase thestature of candidates and their perceivedchances of being able to attract resources intothe electorate.

The 2002 elections

The last general election vividlydemonstrated the varied political styles indifferent regions, provinces and cities. As sooften occurs, electoral administration andpublic behaviour were much better in theIslands region. On the mainland, however,the limited capacities of the PNG state werestrikingly obvious. Everything that could gowrong in administrative terms did go wrongin these elections, especially in the Highlands(Standish 2002) and Port Moresby city, wherepolitical competition is usually at its mostintense. There was fraudulent use of the over-large electoral roll in many provinces,apparently led by local political figures. Notonly did basic administrative procedures fail,but in the Highlands the security forces wereunable to maintain control of the public or

even all their own personnel. Policemendestroyed ballot boxes at Henganofi in theEastern Highlands. A policeman was killedand a candidate and policeman kidnappedbefore the polling in the Southern Highlands.Polling officials were attacked in the Easternand Western Highlands; a young girl wasshot dead during the count in Chimbu.Serious post-election fighting spread acrossmost of the Highlands region and in Engacontinued for more than six months after theelection. Precise figures have never beenannounced, but I estimate that over onehundred people were killed in election-related violence (Standish 2003b).

As had been widely predicted, firearmswere used throughout the polling in theSouthern Highlands, where serious warfarehad been under way since late 2001. In a July2002 reference to the Supreme Court todetermine whether the elections in theSouthern Highlands Province could bedeemed to have ‘failed’, the Attorney-General, Francis Damen, cited

…violence, intimidation, threats,destruction of ballot [boxes] and/orballot papers, riots, sacking of pollingbooths, holding hostage peopleentitled to vote, spoiling of papers,tampering with ballot papers, forgingof signatures, giving of false names andaddresses [and] the prevention ofvoting of people entitled to vote (TheAustralian, 22 July 2002).Such actions were undertaken by

ordinary villagers at the behest of educatedand wealthy candidates. The fact that peoplewent to such extremes over an electionreflects their desperate desire to gain somecontrol over state resources and services. Attimes people voted en masse in a bloc vote,and officials were coerced to allow the pollto be taken over by strong arm supporters ofcandidates. Sometimes this was done in thename of group consensus, but several


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candidates in Chimbu acknowledged it wascoerced (Standish 2002). Voters were notconstrained by electoral laws and proceduresintended to ensure free and fair elections.These elections strengthen the argument ofPNG political scientist Alphonse Gelu thatthe colonially-introduced liberal democraticpolitical culture never took root, and thatauthoritarian styles of ‘non-liberal’ politicsbetter reflect indigenous political mores (Gelu2000).

In Papua New Guinea there is often awave of relief at the removal of a government,and a rush of optimism after each newgovernment is formed. That was particularlymarked after the government of Bill Skateimploded in July 1999, to be replaced by thatled by Sir Mekere Morauta which theNational Parliament voted in by 99 votes to5 (Standish 1999:24). Faced with pooreconomic conditions, a massive debt burdenand ongoing fiscal shortages, as well as itsown internal divisions, the Morautagovernment was unable to make muchimprovement in government services in theprovinces (Standish 2001). People want theirgovernment to be responsive to publicopinion, but unfortunately this only seemsto happen at election time. Although thePeople’s Democratic Movement (PDM)members had access to many millions of kinafrom government resources, and gave awaynumerous 4WD vehicles during the 2002election campaign, the failure of 30 of PDM’s42 government MPs and ministers in mid2002 displays negative accountability inoperation. By contrast, the MPs in theNational Alliance party had been effectivecritics of government and most were re-elected, even though some of them had beendenied the ‘slush fund’ patronage resourcesthat benefited government MPs.

Following the June-July elections, at thenational level and on the surface, stateinstitutions appeared to function properlyin late 2002. The new parliament met, and

included a large number of talented new MPswith a wide range of experience. Agovernment was formed of 10 parties and anew ministry appointed. There was,however, scepticism about the integrity ofseveral of the new ministers and MPs. Theministers took over their portfolios, seniorofficials were replaced, a mini-budget waspassed to deal with the inherited deficit crisisand a few parliamentary committees startedworking after a gap of nearly a decade. Inlate 2002 there was some hope for the newgovernment, and anger at the debt they hadinherited from their predecessors.Nonetheless, the government that took officewas derived from a parliament that had beenelected by a tainted process. According to onePNG academic, instead of being locked upin jail, ‘corrupt politicians have taken upseats in parliament, which could bedescribed as a house of thieves’.

Village people sometimes say theirelection activities are pointless. All too often,new MPs are heavily in debt once elected,and even reformists are vulnerable to offersof rewards and incentives by wealthy partyleaders. They often stay in the capital andlose touch with their electorates, unable tomeet their constituents’ unrealistically highexpectations for development. In theHighlands some members find they cannotreturn to their electorates without beingharassed in parts of their electorate. Thedesire to widen their electoral support andhence increase the representativeness of MPsis what led to the reintroduction ofpreferential voting which had been droppedin the 1975 constitution.

Preferential voting

The legislation for ‘limited preferentialvoting’ (LPV) has been applied since 2003,with ten by-elections completed using thissystem by August 2006, five in the


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Highlands, and all closely monitored.9 Thehope is that that all candidates will be forcedto appeal to wide sections of their electoratein order to gain preferences, and overcomethe intense localism highlighted under first-past-the-post. However many candidateshave been unremittingly parochial in theirappeals. Some set up three candidates withintheir tribal catchment, so as not to preferenceany rival groups. Others, for similar reasons,have urged their voters not to channel supporttowards worthy candidates. Instead, theyhave asked their supporters to preference weakcandidates which will prevent any drift ofpreferences towards prominent rivals. Thevotes are usually wasted on candidatesalready eliminated. Such votes are deemedexhausted and drop out of the count, withup to 90 per cent of votes exhausted in eachof the final eliminations. Even when thereare over 20 candidates, which is common,eventually someone will gain an ‘absolutemajority’ (50 per cent plus1) of the remainingactive votes, but that may only be a third ofthe original total. It is hoped that once electedMPs will work for their entire electorate, butit is unusual for candidates to gainpreferences widely.

In general, we can say that under LPV sofar campaigning has been more relaxed andaccommodative, and that candidates havemostly been able to move freely, and indeeddistribute largesse more freely, but not inevery instance. These by-elections electionshave been peaceful in comparison to recentgeneral elections—though there have been afew cases of polling day violence, some post-election fighting and deaths and seriousdestruction of property in some instances.Several candidates have spent six or sevenfigure sums in their campaigns and two ofthese were successful in the National CapitalDistrict and Koroba-Lake Kopiago. In twocases the support of a powerful politicalpatron—the Enga Governor and the PrimeMinister—assisted winners.

However very local issues and alliancesare identified in detailed analyses of voting.10

Some observers say the achievement of an‘absolute majority’ is a major achievement(Reilly 2006), but the mathematics makes thatinevitable. With over 20 candidates, up to 66per cent of votes have dropped out of thecount at the last stage, deemed exhausted.Note that the winners do receive increasedmandates when primary votes and prefer-ences are combined, as a percentage of validfirst count primary votes, usually 10–20 percent higher than in 2002. However the overallmandate received in most instances was only25-30 per cent of valid votes lodged. This willnot change unless the number of candidatesis reduced greatly, but there is no incentive forthat to happen with LPV, and in fact candidatenumbers are likely to increase.

Once again, poor electoral admin-istration of this complex system—and in onecase a fraudulent count (Standish 2006)—has illustrated the weak capacities of thePNG state in rural areas. One majorunderlying problem is that electoral rolls of‘eligible voters’ have been cumulativelyinflated over the decades, with up to threetimes as many names as adult persons. Thissituation is intentional, organised byintending candidates who stand to gain. Itfacilitates multiple voting and provides anincentive for ‘controlled’ or intimidated blocvoting. In the 2004 Yangoru-Saussia byelection, as in the Highlands’ by-elections,multiple voting occurred on a large scale, butwas monitored (and prevented)haphazardly by the police security force. TheHighlands’ polls, even by-elections, involvedmajor electoral fraud in the form of multiplevoting. Since 2005 the Electoral Commissionhas been trying to create new rolls andeliminate excessive names from the roll, withsome success, but acknowledges thatHighlands electorates still contain morenames than adult citizens, and there aresigns many people have not (re-)enrolled.


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A major concern is that as Highlandscandidates have become aware of the valueof preferences, which are the same votetransferred to another candidate, they arenow saying that in 2007 they will controltheir voters’ allocation of all preferences. Theballot is not secret in the Highlands, and blocvoting is common in the name of the group.This is sometimes described as consensus,but if it is voluntary then there should be noneed to enforce it.

Political parties and the integritylaw

The consequences of intense localism inelectioneering are profound. Successfulcandidates owe little to political parties, andhence parties have limited hold over orcapacity to sanction MPs. In industrialcountries the loss of party endorsementusually means political death, whereas inPapua New Guinea it matters little. Indeed,it was an attempt to overcome the weaknessof political parties that led to the ‘integritylaw’, formally known as the Organic[constitutional] Law on the Integrity ofPolitical Parties and Candidates (OLIPPAC)(Baker 2005; Gelu 2005; PacLii 2006). Afterthe crucial initial vote for the Prime Ministerfollowing the election, individual MPs whochange that vote or leave their party of firstchoice should face serious penalties,potentially losing their seat, unless they canjustify their action during formal inquiriesby the Ombudsman and Leadershiptribunal. The aim is to lock MPs into parties,and hence create some stability in both thelegislature and executive, and ultimatelymore consistent policymaking and bettergovernance.

OLIPPAC is designed to strengthenparties, both in parliament and in theelectorate. However the near irrelevance ofparties to the electorate is based in the

divisions and structures of Melanesiansocieties, along with the divided topographyand economy, and the related spread ofpowers between the provincial and districtgovernment structures. Candidates usuallydo not win elections on the basis of partypolicies and membership, but becauseenough local people want them to be elected.At most elections the majority of new MPsare Independents when elected, but soon joinparties. During the campaign clever partiespick up likely winners, and in these casesthe party owes more to the candidate’s basevotes and resources than the reverse. Onlyabout a quarter of candidates have takenparty endorsement in the recent by-elections.

Fluid party loyalties have been identifiedby Okole (2005). These arise from the smallpolities of Melanesian society and are centralto explaining many of Papua New Guinea’sproblems with executive governance andinstability in the legislature. Localism andspeaking on behalf of the ‘grassroots’ providealternate ideological bases for politicians,rather than national party allegiances.Although modern political partiescommenced from 1967–70 with fairly strongregional identities and distinctive policydifferences about the timing of independence,political parties in Papua New Guinea lostmuch of their regional identity after 1977.Party loyalty and voter identification withparty leaders reached its peak in the 1982election. It became cheaper to recruit winnersafter the election, but under OLIPPAC partiesnow have a strong incentive to increase theirendorsed winners, namely the chance to formgovernment. Party activism appeared to risein 2002 with Somare’s National Alliance, andcould do so again in the 2007 election withthe emergence of the New Generation Party.

Since the 1980s, national politicsincreasingly has been about gaining andallocating the spoils of office, especially whenin hard economic times the chances for majordevelopment projects are minimal. Papua


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New Guinea’s parties remain personalisedvehicles for gaining and sharing power, withminimal policy differences. As mentioned,they are essentially factions within theNational Parliament, centred upon a leader;even leaders who may have lost their seatssuch as the wealthy founders of two parties,former Prime Ministers Sir Julius Chan(Peoples Progress Party, whose term endedin 1997) and Paias Wingti (who was out ofparliament between 1997 and 2002).

Papua New Guinea’s parties onlyattempt to link with the wider electorate atelection times, bursting into flower. Some 43parties were registered before 2002 elections(an increase from about 15), and 22 partieswere represented in the House. After elections,however, many parties wilt, and even thoserepresented in the legislature remain dormantin the electorate. By 2006 there were only 29parties registered, with 15 in Parliament.Several small parties have voted to be absorbedby larger ones. Under OLIPPAC parties areexpected to strengthen their organization inorder to elect MPs with formal party endorse-ment, but most parties only establish provincialbranches at election time, and they still lackmass memberships. Candidates in 2002shopped around asking parties for endorse-ment and financial support. The successfulones received only minimal help at the time ofnomination, very late in their campaignswhich last for years. The winner in the 2004Chimbu by-election had approached threepolitical parties before finally being endorsedby one faction of the United Resources Partyon the second last day of nominations. MPsprimarily owe their election to their ownefforts, which can cost many thousands ofkina. Parties are largely irrelevant to thedecisions made by voters (Saffu 1996).

If they hope for re-election, MPs areobliged to benefit their own small localconstituency while in office. Aside fromrecouping their own expenses, sometimesfrom state coffers, they must seek the best

possible deal for their local voter base in thefirst instance, rather than their entireelectorate. This means joining the strongestteam; and until OLIPPAC commenced thatcould mean shedding their initial party.Elected Independent MPs almost invariablyjoin parties, and in the past the wealthyparties like Peoples Progress Party haverecruited well between elections, especiallywhen in power. Nothing succeeds likesuccess. Opposition is not a fruitful stancefor MPs, except for core faction membersbuoyed by the hope of regaining executivepower. Two recent prime ministers held backelectoral development funds or districtsupport grants (the notorious ‘slush funds’)budgeted for MPs in the Opposition. Thepublic’s expectation of large-scale patronageplaces huge pressures on MPs, and severalMPs, including Sir Julius Chan have oftenstated that such demands drive corruption.But the system also increases the leverage ofthe executive over the legislature.

Until OLIPPAC, it was easy forOpposition members or governmentbackbenchers to swap parties and overthrowa prime minister, or increase their chances ofa ministry or other additional lucrativeappointment carrying ministerial privileges.Hence, there is usually a drift by MPstowards government parties, until the lastfew months before a vote of no confidencebecame possible. Such party-hopping,known as ‘yo-yo politics’, is what OLIPPACwas intended to prevent. In theory, the lawmakes it impossible for individual MPs toswap parties, although Sir William Skate wasallowed to leave his Peoples NationalCongress in 2005 and join the government.By contrast, Independents can move intoparties at the time of their choice. And, by acaucus vote, whole parties can decide tochange sides, as occurred in May 2004, orthey may collectively change their vote onmajor constitutional issues, a vote of noconfidence or on the Budget.


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In 2003 Prime Minister Somare obviouslyfelt vulnerable because he tried unsuccess-fully to persuade the parliament to amendthe constitution and double the period ofimmunity from a vote of no-confidence to 36months. In a drawn out struggle he sackedseveral ministers who opposed this move.For two years four parties were split onfactional lines behind rival leaders. It tookcourt cases and years before OLIPPAC wasapplied to enforce parties to meet and resolvetheir leadership disputes. Indeed, politicalmovement has continued under theOLIPPAC. The Prime Minister has used hispower to choose ministers, over-riding thenominal leadership of other parties, and byconstant reshuffling of his ministry playingdivide and rule tactics. One of his seniorministers in May 2004 described this as‘cutting off their heads, enabling us to destroythem politically’. It was a tactic regularly usedby PM Skate, as well.11

Parliament and the Executive

Throughout the 1990s, the principal role ofparliaments has been merely to determinewhich team wins executive power andcontrols the spoils of office. MPs have notconcentrated on monitoring the executive, orproviding detailed advice and consent onlegislative matters. Major legislation ispassed rapidly, without significant debate,and with huge majorities. Generally theexecutive is dominant; it can buy supportand ignore parliament. Support for theexecutive appears to get stronger and strongeruntil an election, but can collapse if a vote ofno confidence is possible or imminent. PapuaNew Guinea’s annual budget has regularlybeen passed without serious scrutiny ordebate, aside from set piece speeches by partyleaders. The granting of supply has not beenused to discipline governments, although ithas been used to pressure early payment of

slush funds. Annual national budgets oftencontain ‘sweeteners’ for MPs, and allegedlycheques for discretionary funds are issuedto ensure the budget or major laws arepassed without delay.

Scrutiny of governance is assisted mostby the Ombudsman Commission and theCourts, rather more than by the NationalParliament (Ghai 1997). Legislative committeesand parliamentary scrutiny declinedmarkedly throughout the 1990s (Okole et al.2003). Bill Skate as Speaker in 2002 pledgedto strengthen the role of parliament and itscommittees. Indeed, the Public AccountsCommittee restarted its constitutional role ofintense scrutiny of government financialoperations, and took an activist role andidentified some bureaucratic scalps forinvestigation by the police and Ombudsman.Other committees, however, exist solely onpaper. The legislature rarely uses its routineaccountability powers to create a responsiblegovernment, although it retains the ultimatepower to dismiss a government, some of thetime.

Votes of no-confidence

A vote of no-confidence should be thelegislature’s main chance to overthrow anincompetent or corrupt executive, and assuch is an essential sanction in a countrywhere the gentlemanly conventions ofWestminster are not entrenched. Under thenational Constitution, governments cannotbe challenged by a vote of no confidenceduring their first 18 months in office. Thenin the fifth and last year of each parliament avote of no-confidence would precipitate anearly election. That is unthinkable, not onlybecause the Electoral Commission’spreparations take years but all MPs fear oflosing their seat. During these periods ofimmunity or ‘grace’ the National Parliamentis denied its strongest power over the


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executive, except voting on the budget oradverse publicity. Some governments havebeen at the apex of their power, and pushedthrough major reforms in this phase,including those of Morauta and Sir RabbieNamaliu. There is a tendency for govern-ments to make reckless decisions in their lastyear. It was in its last six months in early1997 that the Chan government hired theinfamous Sandline mercenaries in an attemptto solve the Bougainville secession conflict.That plan was tripped up not by parliamentbut by a rebellion by sections of the DefenceForce and mass public demonstrations in thecapital (Dinnen et al. 1997; Dorney 1998;O’Callaghan 1999).

Between the two ‘periods of grace’,between 18 and 48 months, there are windowswhen the executive is vulnerable and in theoryparliament is at its highest potential power.Yet parliament often abdicates its oversightrole during these periods, and the quality ofgovernance declines as a result. Since 1988 ithas become standard practice for govern-ments to sway MPs to give up their powerand allow the adjournment of parliamentduring much of the time when a vote of no-confidence is possible. MPs are able to spendmore time in their electorates, if they wish,and often seem happy as long as they havesome funds to distribute. In 1998 and 2000,parliaments agreed to adjourn for over sixmonths thereby avoiding the chance of a voteof no-confidence. In early 2004 parliamentcommenced a five-month adjournment,which was broken only by the need to elect anew Governor-General. The admission ofinsecurity implied by a long adjournment alsocan increase the chance of a vote of no-confidence when Parliament eventuallyreconvenes. In 1999, once the period ofimmunity expired and it became constitution-ally possible to change the guard, backbenchersfrom all sides and even ministers colludedand enforced a change of Prime Minister; theministry remained very similar.

Even on occasions when attempts to havea vote of no-confidence were unsuccessful,as occurred eight times during the first threeyears of Namaliu’s government, the threat ofa vote of no-confidence damaged the qualityof governance. Political instability causespolitical paralysis and leads to attempts topay off political waverers. Threatened votesof no-confidence can also make it impossiblefor the Prime Minister to remove politicianswho are proven to have been corrupt. Thishappened in the case of the former Forestsand Foreign Minister, and army General, TedDiro. After his corrupt behaviour wasexposed in 1987, Diro survived a further fouryears, mostly as Deputy Prime Minister.Eventually, he was removed following a 1991Leadership Tribunal inquiry, but afterspending three years in the ‘sin bin’ he waseligible to stand in 1997 and was re-electedby a forgiving public.

Old habits died hard. The vote of no-confidence attempted in 2004 had beenpredicted as early as 2002. It bore norelationship to the state of governance at thetime, merely that it was legally possiblebecause the Somare government had been inoffice 18 months, was out of ‘grace’ and hadantagonised a number of its previousministers and supporters. However thegovernment-controlled Private BusinessCommittee disallowed the motion, whichdrew strong legal criticism (Nonggorr 2004).Whether OLIPPAC will be able tofundamentally shift existing patterns ofpolitical behaviour and create a genuinelystrong parliamentary base for continuity inexecutive government remains to be seen, buton present indications that seems unlikely.The weak party system results from theinteraction of local groupings with theelectorate system and provincial patronagestructures, and encourages poor parliament-ary performance and executive instability.This in turn leads to the constant reshufflingof ministers and the sacking of political


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appointees to departmental headships andstatutory authorities. It all contributes topolicy inconsistency and the weakens thestate capacities.

Patronage and provinces

Following lessons learnt in the colonial era,politics in Papua New Guinea has mostlybeen about the distribution of patronage:resources (jobs and funds) and pork-barrelprojects. Politics is perceived as a zero sumgame, in which the winner takes all, at theelectorate level as well as in the NationalParliament. Hence, electoral competition isintense. Until recently, MPs have controlledhuge discretionary grants, known as ‘slushfunds’, but as Sir Mekere Morauta pointedout in 1996 they lack the planning andadministrative capacity needed to utilisethese resources effectively. Parliamentariansmay have gained access to state resources,but have not been able to ensure transparencyor executive responsiveness to public needs.Meanwhile, indifference of central govern-ment has led to the near collapse in mainlandprovinces of rural health and educationservices, and road networks. Anguishedstatements from church and non-governmentorganisation leaders and letters to the editorson such topics appear to fall on deaf ears.

Since the 1995 provincial government‘reforms’, backbench MPs have undertakenstrong executive roles in the allocation ofDistrict Support grants within theirelectorates and in the provincialgovernments. The Provincial (‘regional’) MPis usually the Governor and hence theexecutive head. In their local roles the MPsactions are largely unchecked, althoughmany eventually face OmbudsmanCommission investigations and LeadershipCode cases for misappropriation. Most basicservices, such as minor roads, schools andmedical facilities, are the responsibility of

provincial governments. Until 1995provincial assemblies were directly electedwith a mandate separate from MPs, and 14had been suspended at some stage formaladministration. The provincial assembliesand their executives undercut the status andlocal roles of MPs. During the decades after1980 provincial governments wereprogressively starved of capital works andrecurrent operating funds, while between1984 and 1999 MPs’ annual discretionaryfunds grew from K10,000 each to K1.5 millionper annum.

The 1995 Organic Law on Provincialand Local Level Governments was pushedthrough parliament by PM Chan on thepretext of further decentralising power tolocal-level governments. Usually three LLGsreplaced each of the largely moribunddistrict-level local government councils,which had mostly been starved of resourcesby the provinces. Few of the new LLGs havethe resources or skills to operate effectively.In part, the ‘1995 reforms’ served torecentralise power over the bureaucracy,while giving MPs virtually untrammelledcontrol over district operating funds andstrong influence over staffing matters in theirelectorates. National politicians are now ableto grab resources that properly should beallocated to provincial governments anddistricts that are charged with providingessential services. They have almost totalcontrol and so can readily lobby for theremoval of unsympathetic local-level councilpresidents; in that way the MPs influencethe composition of each ProvincialAssembly. In 2006 there were proposals tofurther entrench MPs’ powers within theirdistricts, including the selection of publicservants. This would only serve to intensifylocal political competition. Note that thereare a few exceptions, such as East NewBritain, where MPs sensibly transfer theirfunds to local-level governments andprovincial and district administrators,


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leaving local government to local leaders andavoiding the inevitable political backlash.

The anti-corruption agenda

PNG political discourse is dominated by talkof corruption, a ‘big C’ issue that is constantlybeing raised in the media. At the mention ofpolitics, a hotel receptionist volunteers assimple fact: ‘The ministers are all corrupt’.MPs and even ministers use parliamentarygrievance debates to loudly assert thepersistence of corruption. Bribery andmisappropriation allegations have beenmajor election issues since 1982. Every timeMPs have driven to Parliament House since1996, they have passed a huge billboardproclaiming

WHEN THE RIGHTEOUS ARE IN AUTHORITY

The People Rejoice

WHEN THE WICKED RULE

The People Suffer (Proverbs 29)

KAIKAI BIILONG TINGTING[Food for thought]

Corruption was frequently alleged in the lastparliament and criticised in the media, andduring 2002 was a major concern for civilsociety groups, especially churches, whichbacked a media-led community campaignagainst corruption. Nevertheless, Morautagovernment candidates spent huge sums(one estimate is K300 million) in the run-upto the elections. The small groups of supportersof government members may have benefited,but the wider public was not convinced.

However, most of the anti-corruptioncampaigning remains at the level ofmoralising rhetoric. The causes of corruption,such as the weak economy and thebreakdown of resource allocation accordingto need, and the widespread collapse of

service distribution, have served to foster thepolitics of money. The dreadful logic of failinggovernment services is that in this situationpeople grab what they can, where they can.They expect little from government, but lackthe means to effectively utilise whateverresources they do obtain.

Clearly the rhetorical chorus againstcorruption has not worked. The incentivesremain and the sanctions only hit a few. Theelectorates want their MPs to gain themresources, and only complain if they missout. Personal misappropriation is fairly wellhidden from the electorate. Heroically, theOmbudsman Commission had succeeded inraising over 67 cases of violations of theLeadership Code by leaders by late 2003(Gomez 2004:16–18), and more since. Thishighlights the primary cause of concernabout institutional decay, patronage politicsand the (mis)use of state resources(Ketan2000; Okole 2002). As in 1997, several MPswere (re-)elected in 2002 who had previouslybreached the Leadership Code. Otherindividuals elected in July 2002 were latertargetted in the recent commissions ofinquiry into the collapse of the super-annuation scheme (the National ProvidentFund, NPF) and the privatisation of the state-owned commercial bank PNG BankingCorporation. Some of those criticised in theNPF report have influence in the presentgovernment, and very few of the well-publicised recommendations of the inquiryhave been followed through with attemptedprosecutions.

The regulatory and accountabilityprocedures appear to need strengthening, butthe reverse has occurred. PNG governmentsfor years have faced fiscal crises and havenot provided sufficient funds for crucialaccountability institutions such as theOmbudsman Commission and the courts. In2006 the House passed a law restricting theLeadership Tribunals which handle casesbrought forward by the Ombudsman


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Commission. These are administrativetribunals but are now required to apply fulllegal rules of evidence. Executivegovernments are often unwilling to facestrong scrutiny from the legislature, and it isnot surprising that legislators who are alsosubject to independent oversight may rejectattempts to strengthen the institutions ofaccountability.

National mobilisation

As argued above, contemporary PNGpolitics is usually about local loyalties andthe local distribution of resources rather thanmodels of development, ideological or evennational issues. This is clear to any observerof parliamentary discussions. As aconcomitant, it can be argued that the PNGpeople lack a sense of shared history andnational identity which can be the basis ofcitizenship and democratic accommodation.Related points were made by Sir AnthonySiaguru.

It is something we lack in my country.It is not a matter of governance as such.It is the basic identity of the people withthe national interest that we lack, orrather, a political system that affectsthat identity, and it is its absencewhich, by my reckoning, makes itdifficult to have good governance inPapua New Guinea…The electorategrumbles…but the electorate is heldcaptive (2001:11–12).

In the 1960s and 1970s there was nosustained anti-colonial nationalist move-ment, although there was prolongeddiscussion about the constitutionaldistribution of state power. The strongestpolitical campaigns in recent decades havecome from non-government organisationsconcerned about human rights, especiallywomen’s rights, and the environment. In the1980s the major issue drawing people onto

the streets was crime. In the last 15 years, theregular diet of Australian Rugby Leaguefootball in the media has provided a majordistraction from domestic events in PapuaNew Guinea.

Yet the public is not entirely quiescent,and can be quite volatile at times, even whenit is likely to attract heavy-handed staterepression. In mid 1995, student activistshelped stir up demonstrations across thecountry when it was alleged that the WorldBank planned to register and privatisecommunally owned land. It is easy to inflamethe public about land matters, and five peopledied in these demonstrations. In June 2001in Port Moresby students and people fromsettlements rallied against privatisationplans and the reduction in the size of themilitary, but the protests ended when thepolice shot and killed three students on theUniversity of Papua New Guinea campus.This incident damaged Prime MinisterMorauta and nearly cost him his seat in 2002.

There have been some large-scalenationalist responses to issues, andoccasionally politicians choose to appeal tonational pride and sovereignty. This wasdone by both supporters and opponents ofthe South African-based Sandlinemercenaries brought in by former PM SirJulius Chan in early 1997 in a desperateattempt to resolve the Bougainville conflict(Dinnen et al. 1997; Dorney 1998; O’Callaghan1999). Chan still seeks to justify that action.Bill Skate MP opposed Sandline on nationalistgrounds, arguments echoing Defence Forceofficers, but he was less successful in the lastdays of his leadership in mid1999 when hetried to arouse nationalist resentment of theWorld Bank and to blame Australia for hispolitical demise. While initially effectivesmokescreens, his allegations appear not tohave resonated with the wider public. Thenationalist rejection among some politiciansof Australia’s Enhanced CooperationPackage (ECP) with its 250 police and


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regulatory officials in 2004–05 appeared notto be widespread; apparently most of thepolitical public hoped the ECP would bringsome improvement to policing and publicorder.

Occasionally, resentment of capitalistdevelopment is expressed in ideologicalterms by local movements, which havesometimes been wrongly labelled as cargocults. The most radical attacks on symbols ofmodern development came from theundereducated and unemployed youth ofBougainville who attacked the Pangunacopper mine and also destroyed stateinfrastructure such as schools and hospitals.These Bougainville Revolutionary Army footsoldiers can be interpreted as the deprivedvictims of large-scale development, and asidefrom conflicts between local groups therebellion incorporated aspects of classresentment. Similar resentments aresometimes heard in the Highlands, and maylie behind the occasional destruction ofessential public infrastructure by peoplewho have missed out on the benefits ofdevelopment, or who have lost politicalpower. Although usually manipulated byelite political interests, aspects of classconflict can also be identified in theoccasionally anarchic eruptions of crowdviolence and looting in Port Moresby, Lae andMadang. In the Highlands, such conflicts areusually seen through the lenses of tribe andclan.

The peoples of Papua New Guinea areethnically divided. By itself, this has limitedexplanatory value in the country’s politics,because conflict is rarely about identityalone. People often place each other by regionor province of origin, but within thoseprovinces the labels used apply to eversmaller districts or tribal groups. Largeregional identities are rarely mobilised,12

despite the attempts of some politicians todo so in the mid 1970s. At the national levelthere is often concern about the regional

balance of the top posts in the bureaucracybetween people from the Southern Region(coastal Papua), the Highlands, Momase (thenorth coast provinces, Morobe, Madang andthe Sepiks, East and West) and the NewGuinea Islands. Since 2002 the term ‘SepikTsunami’ has been used to describe thenumbers of senior officials appointed underthe Somare government. Such geographicdivisions incorporate stereotypes inheritedfrom the colonial era, but still have politicalpotency. Nevertheless there is also jealousyand lack of trust within these broadlybrushed regions. People from areas with thebest education in the colonial era, whopreviously held all the best jobs, sometimesexpress resentment and even fear of the recentarrivals from the Highlands.

Pragmatic alliances can override suchregional sentiments. In 1997 Bill Skate waschosen as prime minister partly because acoastal Papuan was wanted, but hiscandidacy was promoted by former primeministers from the Highlands and Islands,Paias Wingti and Sir Julius Chan. Skate, whodied as Sir William Skate in early 2006, wasable to appeal to second generation migrantsfrom several ethnic groups in Port Moresby,especially immigrant Highlanders, whichindicates how ethnic divisions can bemobilised and also overcome. Similar fusionpolitics is also reported to occur in suburbanraskol criminal gangs (Harris 1988), but Iknow of strong contrary examples.

Most governments make sure they haverepresentation in the ministry from allprovinces, and these people work welltogether. Individual ministers engage in theworst nepotistic patronage. It is individualswho build up teams of bodyguards topromote or enforce their interests ingovernment service and business. Althoughexpected, nepotism causes considerableresentment and feeds cynicism about thepolitical system. There is widespread beliefin both provinces and the capital that the


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political system and government ispermeated by localism and cronyism, knownas wantokism, using the word for people ofone language (talk). Finally, it can be arguedthat Papua New Guinea’s democraticinstitutions have not (yet) created a sharedsense of identity as a nation.

Concluding discussion

The analysis above describes state-societyinteractions that are not producingaccountable and effective governance. Thelives of rural people are seen as economicallyirrelevant to the survival of the state, unlessthey start to rebel around major moneyearners like mineral or petroleum projects.Viewed from the provinces, Waigani, theheadquarters of government, is seen as aforeign country. Although there are manydedicated officials, the political class iswidely believed to turn its back on the bushpeople and the urban settlers.

The failure to have an executiveresponsible to the parliament, and aparliament responsible to the electorate, hascontributed to the lack of government concernfor national problems. Four dramaticexamples show the lack of focus by nationalgovernments, which• largely ignored bloody warfare in the

Highlands for over 30 years• have not halted the spread of high-

powered firearms and ignored the GunsSummit report of 2005

• allowed the Bougainville secession crisisto drag on for eight years until 1997; and

• largely ignored HIV/AIDS issues for 10years.

Despite regular elections, the logic of socialgroupings within the country and theirpolitical mobilisation has meant that MPshave not had to serve their entire electorates,or the nation as a whole. Political parties

have not differentiated themselves on policyplatforms, or made binding links with thewider public to mobilise support. Electionsare highly localised and have become eitherindividualised contests, as in many Islandsareas, or inter-group contests, as in theHighlands region. In the Highlands electionswere increasingly violent until 2002 whenmalpractice was seen as being essential forsuccess.

Parliamentary grievance debates can belively, but democratic accountability has notworked either in the legislature and itsrelationship with the executive, or betweenelections at the electoral level. The net impactof an ineffective parliament is to weaken thestate, and reduce the capacities andlegitimacy of government. The state and itsélites have become withdrawn and isolatedfrom the people they are meant to serve. Thisis an inherently unstable situation, but mostpeople still seek to gain power in the state.This is illustrated most starkly by the factthat many people in the Highlands wereprepared to attack electoral officials andpolice conducting the election in June andJuly 2002. A PNG newspaper editorialargued that Papua New Guinea is a‘struggling democracy’ (The National, 19 July2002). Another PNG observer, Joe Ketan,stated, ‘democracy itself is at risk in thisadministratively weak state’.13

There has been a major attempt throughthe integrity law to strengthen politicalparties in Papua New Guinea in an attemptto create stability in government. YetOLIPPAC is mainly tinkering with the rulesof Parliament, and has been circumvented. Itcannot teach parties to mobilise popularsupport, or to improve the links betweenlegislators and their electorates. The firstelection under OLIPPAC showed littlestrengthening of political parties. However,one observer argued (in a closed seminar)that the new law has removed the real powerstruggle from parliament and eventually


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would lead to intensified politicalcompetition and conflict at the electoral level.It remains to be seen what the long-term effectof OLIPPAC will be in the next parliament,but from 2004 signs were that MPs had foundways of avoiding its attempts to solidifypolitical parties. Nonetheless in early 2007parties were increasing their efforts in therun up to the June-July elections, so the lawmay have greater impact in the nextparliament.

The second major reform is the adoptionof limited preferential voting (LPV) in allelections. The recent by-elections have beenboth local and personalised contests. Theyshowed that under preferential voting thepossibility exists for considerable wideningof candidates’ support bases, and that apeaceful election can be held where massivestate resources are applied. The new systemwill soon be tested in a general election whenthe pressures are far greater and stateresources such as police spread more thinly.To be effective, LPV will require a substantialshift in Papua New Guinea’s politicalculture. It will take the lifetime of theparliament elected in the 2007 generalelection before we can say whether LPV hassignificantly improved the quality of MPsand the functioning of PNG democracy atthe national level.

The parliament in Papua New Guineaincludes many idealistic and talentedindividuals, only some of whom are in theministry. Some started to make themselvesheard, as indicated by the revival of a fewcommittees. Fourteen years ago there was areview of the effectiveness of the PNGparliament, with suggestions for strengthen-ing the institution (Lindley 1993). TheConstitution specifies that there should be afull set of standing committees, but very feware operative. In attempts to lock MPs behindthe government, some committee chairs areallocated as paid perquisites, but thecommittees rarely if ever meet. The current

House has allowed itself to be used, underruthless control by the Speaker and theLeader of Government Business, and with atiny Opposition not able to assert itsautonomy, let alone control the executive.

Unfortunately, given the desperateshortage of resources in Papua New Guinea,any reform programmes are thought torequire outside funding. Foreign assistanceto promote democracy in Papua New Guineais quite likely, given the aid donors’ recentfocus on ‘good governance’, but it alsoinvolves major political sensitivities. Thework of accountability bodies such as theOmbudsman Commission is clearly resentedby politicians seeking to avoid close scrutiny.The critics of the state, such as civil societyleaders, are perceived by politicians as likelyfuture rivals. State leaders sometimes fear theyounger generation of politically activecitizens, such as university students, whichmay be one reason why universities arestarved of resources. The weakening of mostof the country’s universities in recentdecades will have long-term costs. The factthat Papua New Guinea has its own acutecritics of its political system remains a realindigenous strength, however.

The media hopefully will be able tocontinue to act as fairly effective democraticwatchdogs. The sole (commercial) televisionstation is fairly bland. Unfortunately, theprovincial network of radio stations has beenallowed to run down badly since 1995, awasted opportunity for nation-building andleadership. Papua New Guinea has a fairlyvibrant if small and largely foreign-ownedpress (not forgetting the special pleading byThe National on behalf of its owners in thelogging industry).

It is clear that the people of Papua NewGuinea want political participation, and inthat sense are democrats. As argued above,however, many of the problems of democracyin Papua New Guinea are historic andsystemic. They are rooted in Papua New


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Guinea’s political cultures and admin-istrative structures, as well as in the patternof the national economy. These deeper issuesare not readily amenable to institutionalengineering. To strengthen democracy,Papua New Guineans will need to find waysto engage the active support of both thegovernment and civil society. Public servantsoften find it difficult to work together withcommunity groups, but such cooperation isslowly starting to spread beyond the servicesdelivered by churches. In the last few yearsof the Somare government, there have beensigns that civil society activism is spreadingin Papua New Guinea, and that communitygroups are gaining confidence. Therein liesa great hope for the future of Papua NewGuinea’s democracy.

Notes

This essay is a sketch for a larger project; andwas first drafted during fieldwork with no accessto a library. It was presented to the University ofSouth Pacific Conference on Political Culture,Representation and Electoral Systems in thePacific in Port Vila, Vanuatu, July 2004.

1 Such arguments have been made by Lipset1989; Reilly 2001.

2 Strictly speaking there are now 18 provincialgovernments, which since 1995 have beendominated by national parliamentariansincluding the provincial governors, plus theAutonomous Government of Bougainvilleand the National Capital Commission.

3 This complex history is summarised in Dinnenet al (eds) 1997, and detailed in Dorney 1998and O’Callaghan 1999.

4 For some of this history see Moore andKooyman 1998:405–6, 410.

5 The same is alleged in 2007. ‘K52m for MPs’poll funds: Bart’, The National 20 March 2007.

6 PGK 1.00 = AUD 0.44 approximately.7 See, for example, my summary of the October

2002 University of Papua New Guinea/Australian National University Workshop on

the 2002 election (Standish 2003a). Abstractsof the papers on electorates are availablefrom State, Society and Governance inMelanesia Project (2003).

8 As suggested by Reilly and Phillpot 2002:918–19.

9 Six of these are analysed in Standish 2006.1 0 See Gibbs 2006 and similar unpublished

research by Nick Kuman and Ben Tomba onAnglimp-South Wahgi.

1 1 Personal communication Henry Okole,December 2004.

1 2 The late Margaret Mead in 1971 argued atthe University of Papua New Guinea that thecountry’s ethnic diversity was its bestguarantee of sticking together, because nosingle group would be large enough todominate the others.

1 3 Personal communication, November 2002.

References

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The dynamics of Papua New Guinea's democracy: an essay

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