Opinion: Who Gets to Be Fijian?

I am exhausted by the endless, divi­sive, and deeply destructive debate over our common national identity. A national identity is meant to unite us, binding together all those who were born here and call this country home. It should be the foundation for building the vital social capital required to uplift a developing na­tion with scarce resources.

Instead, this identity has been weaponised, turning into a source of bitter divi­sion rather than a unifying force.

Regardless of whatever cultural, historical, or emotional arguments people come up with, the undeni­able reality is that the most accu­rate and globally standard word to describe a citizen of the Republic of Fiji is "Fijian."

There is also a persistent sugges­tion that, if "Fijian" cannot be used for all citizens, perhaps we should use "Fiji Islander". But "Fiji Island­er" is an extraordinarily poor de­scription of nationality.

The proud name of this sovereign nation is Fiji. It is not "the Fiji Islands". That older formulation belongs to a co­lonial vocabulary in which distant archipelagos were often described by outsiders as collections of is­lands somewhere in the far reaches of the world, rather than as nations possessing their own political iden­tity and sovereignty.

Fiji is not some remote collection of islands in the backwaters of the world waiting to be geographically described by somebody looking at a map. It is a sovereign republic. "Fiji Islander" is an entirely inappropriate and out­dated label for the nationality of a modern republic.

The country is Fiji. Its citizens are Fijians. That is how national identi­ties ordinarily work. Germany has Germans. Brazil has Brazilians. Samoa has Samoans. Australia has Australians. By establishing Fijian as the nationality for all citizens, Fiji simply adopted the most stand­ard, globally recognised naming convention for a unified republic.

This civic framework is mathemat­ically the cleanest way to run a mod­ern democracy:

• The State: Republic of Fiji
• The Nationality: Fijian (applied equally to all passport holders)
• Ethnicity Labels: iTaukei, lndo­
• Fijian, Rotuman, Banaban, etc.

I have tried in vain to explain this fundamental difference between nationality and ethnicity, but many remain genuinely confused or will­fully refuse to listen.

I understand why some iTaukei feel strongly about this issue. For generations, the English word "Fi­jian" was used primarily to refer to the indigenous people of these islands. A change in terminology can therefore feel like something has been taken away. That concern should not be mocked or dismissed. Identity is deeply emotional, and in­digenous identity in particular car­ries history, land, culture, language and memory.

But recognising every citizen as Fijian does not require the erasure of indigenous identity. Quite the opposite. A closer look reveals that this shift is not a loss of identity­it is actually a profound decolonial victory and a reclamation of true indigenous power.

iTaukei possesses a specificity that the English word "Fijian" never could. It identifies the indigenous people of Fiji and their unique rela­tionship with the vanua, customary land, chiefly institutions, culture, traditions and ancestral inherit­ance.

First, there is the decolonial real­ity: "Fijian" is a colonial relic. It is not actually an indigenous word; it is an English adaptation of a Tongan mispronunciation of the island's true name, Viti. Fijian is, therefore, essentially a name given by British colonizers and Tongan rivals. For over a century, the British Empire grouped the diverse tribes and con­federacies of the islands under the blanket English term "Fijians" for administrative convenience. There is therefore something profoundly decolonising about allowing the English nationality word to belong to the modern State while indig­enous people increasingly identify themselves through their own lan­guage and their own cultural vo­cabulary. Why should indigenous

identity depend upon an English word? Why should a term inherited through colonial usage carry more weight than one grounded in the language and worldview of the peo­ple themselves?

Second, there is the power of trans­lation. The English word "Fijian" simply means "a person from Fiji," implying mere geography. In con­trast, the word iTaukei translates conceptually to "the owners of the land" or "the original inhabitants." Sharing the word "Fijian" with minorities merely acknowledges a shared geographic state. But by adopting iTaukei as your exclusive identifier, you force the state and all minority groups to refer to you daily by a title that acknowledges your supreme, unalienable owner­ship of the ancestral land (vanua). You trade a weak geographic noun for a powerful title of sovereignty.

Third, it creates what might be called the "Two Realms" of Viti versus Fiji. Fiji is the State: it issues passports, collects taxes, builds roads, and manages the economy. "Fijians" are the participants in this modern economic system. Viti is the Vanua: it is the land, the ocean, the chiefly system, the bloodlines, and the ancestors. The iTaukei are the guardians of Viti. By accepting mi­norities to be "Fijians," the iTaukei welcome them into the State of Fiji to help build the economy. But mi­norities can never be i Ta ukei, mean­ing they can never enter the spiritu­al and ancestral realm of Viti. This framework allows for absolute na­tional unity without sacrificing an inch of indigenous heritage.

Yet, despite all logic and legal clar­ity, the debate rages on, and the human cost is immeasurable. And nowhere is the human cost of this debate more apparent than among Inda-Fijians. For an Inda-Fijian, it is deeply agonising to have their fundamental connection to Fiji con­stantly questioned, fractured, and rejected.

An Inda-Fijian is not an "Indian." The word "Indian" means a citizen of the Republic of India. Fourth- or fifth-generation Inda-Fijians have absolutely no connection to India. They do not vote in Indian elections. They do not hold political member­ship in the Indian state. Most have never set foot there, nor do they have any surviving family ties or relatives on the subcontinent. The only country they belong to is Fiji. The only country their hearts beat for is Fiji.

Their childhoods are here. Their memories are here. Their dead are buried here. Their families, friend­ships, work, hopes and futures are here. When Fiji wins, they celebrate. When Fiji suffers, they suffer. When cyclones destroy homes, when the economy struggles, when our rugby teams play, when elections are held, when governments succeed or fail, this is the country whose fortunes shape their lives.

Yet generation after generation has been required to answer, explic­itly or implicitly, the same question: But where are you really from? For many Inda-Fijians, that question is profoundly painful because the truthful answer is simply: Fiji.

But despite this profound love and unwavering loyalty, I have come to believe that Inda-Fijians should stop fighting for the nationality la­bel. We cannot force a sense of be­longing onto a framework where our very presence is treated as a trespass. Instead, we should simply accept whatever the majority, the iTaukei, decides. If claiming the na­tionality of the only home we have ever known is too offensive, then let us strip away the pretense entirely. Perhaps a far more accurate and sobering label for us would simply be the "great-great-great-grandchil­dren of Indians." Maybe then, this painful debate can finally end.

By: Nilesh Lal

• Nilesh Lal is a fourth-generation Inda­Fijian with a deep patriotic attachment to Fiji and an unwavering commitment to its future. He writes from a place of profound frustration at the continuing and divisive debate over Fiji's common national identity, and the damage it continues to inflict on social cohesion and a shared sense of belonging. The views expressed in this article are entirely his own and do not represent those of the organisation with which he is affiliated, nor the Fiji Sun and/or its employees.