We need healing and freedom in Kanaky

Last month marked 171 years since France annexed Kanaky (New Caledonia).

 Unsurprisingly, the date passed with little celebration. For five months, the island nation has been embroiled in civil unrest. At the heart of the issue lies the rights of the Indigenous Kanak people. Many have had enough of French occupation and want France to honour its promises to decolonise their homeland.

Here, Billy Wetewea, a pastor based on Lifou, one of the outer islands of Kanaky, talks to Teuila Fuatai about the crisis.

 

When the protests started in May, I had just arrived in Noumea from a meeting in Fiji. All the roads were blocked, and there was no transport in or out of town. The airport was closed to everyone except for the army.

I was able to stay with family in Koutio, one of the northern neighbourhoods of Noumea. I ended up staying there for five weeks before returning to Lifou Island where I live. Most Kanak people on the main island live in the north, which includes the neighbourhoods of 7ème Km, Magenta Tour and Vallée du Tir.

These areas are where many of the clashes and military oppression have occurred.

The current unrest started when our Kanak young people put up roadblocks at the entrance to our neighbourhoods. They were protesting against legislative changes that France tried to make to the New Caledonia constitution. The changes would have enabled more recent migrants to vote, and essentially decreased the influence of Kanak people in our elections.

Up to that point, things had been peaceful. For months, there’d been marches on the streets without confrontation. But when the neighbourhood roadblocks were erected by Kanak protesters, police came at night to clear them. Three Kanaks — Daouka Nassaie (17), Salo Jibryl (18), and Neregote Chrétien (36) — were killed by white residents who’d formed armed militias in response to our protests. From there, everything escalated.

The French government sent 3,000 military police to “restore order”, and we started to see more of our people getting hurt and killed. Some properties, shops and businesses were also damaged and burned down by young Kanak protesters who were frustrated and angry at the unjust circumstances of our society.

It felt like we were in a war.

In four months, 13 of our people have been killed. Many of our people have also lost their livelihoods because of this crisis.

The behaviour of the French state has been totally disproportionate and irresponsible, and has resulted in so much violence and destruction. We’ve heard that up to 6,000 military soldiers and police have been sent from France since the start of the crisis. Such heavy militarisation has made the situation worse.

But still, our youth —  young people in their 20s and 30s — are leading the way. They are working with our mothers to organise and strategise, and make sure that everyone is taken care of.

For example, at the start, food supply for the northern neighbourhoods was a real issue because the supermarkets and shops had burned in the riots. The mothers and youth reached out to their networks and we were able to get food from other islands as well as the north of the country.

All of us, especially the youth, are determined to see change. And we want to do it peacefully.

When the crisis erupted, the boys who were on the roadblocks were told by community elders and the mothers to avoid confrontation with the police and the military as much as possible. That strategy, aimed at preventing face-to-face confrontation and limiting harm, remains in place. When protesters see police or soldiers coming towards them, they know to move away. Then, once the police and soldiers leave, they return and rebuild whatever has been destroyed.

The youth also built shelters in the parks of different neighbourhoods so that people could come together. The shelters were like a community hub where information about what was happening could be collected and shared with the community. They often had a makeshift kitchen so food could be prepared for everyone.

The shelters were also important for our children because, in the first stage of the crisis, all the schools were shut down. While I was in Noumea, we used the shelters to run activities like games, drawing, singing and weaving.

I remember how traumatised the children were. In that first week, you could see the violence in their pictures. They drew the police, the bombs, the smoke, and the fires. We also heard lots of stories about people being arrested who didn’t seem to be doing anything wrong.

The police and military didn’t like the shelters, even though they were being used by the wider community for worship services and the like. We’d pray, talk and hear what people were dealing with, and we’d come up with ideas to improve the wellbeing of local families and residents. Things like dealing with unemployment, planting community gardens, or cleaning up the river in the district of Magenta.

In the five weeks that I was in Noumea, the police destroyed the shelters in the neighbourhoods of Magenta at least three times. They’d act mainly at night. First, they’d throw a gas bomb to clear out any people (there’d always be a few boys staying overnight to keep an eye on things). Then they’d come with a big military truck and destroy everything. They never told us why they had a problem with the shelters.

Each time the police and military destroyed the shelters, the youth rebuilt them. Throughout everything, I’ve been so proud and amazed at the resilience of our young people and communities.

In the first few weeks of the crisis, our political leaders, our church leaders, and our customary leaders were basically silent. There seemed to be no official advice.

So the youth stood up, with our mothers, and organised everything. They communicated with the outer islands about food, and established communication networks across Kanaky and with the wider Pacific region and internationally, so we could get information out. We’d seen a lot of media coverage of the crisis that wasn’t accurate and didn’t give a critical assessment or the historical context of what was going on.

I was particularly heartened by what I saw in the northern neighbourhoods. As well as our Kanak families, a lot of Tahitian, Wallisian, ni-Vanuatu, Indonesian, Asian, and also French European people live here. All these people pulled together, regardless of ethnicity, to make sure everyone was safe and had food, water and shelter. In some neighbourhoods, some of our youth even invited the police and army officers to drink coffee, eat and take a break with them. Children have also shared food with the French military personnel.

I think this spirit of fellowship highlighted the difference between where I was and the southern part of the main island, which is a lot wealthier and mainly populated by white families. We just didn’t see that sense of support and unity in the south.

For example, Sonia Backès, who is president of the southern province and against independence, actually called for the separation of New Caledonia in July. She said the south of the main island should be for white people while all of the north and the rest of the country can be for Kanaks. Backès referred to this as “hyper-provincialisation”. That goes against everything that I believe Kanaks want.

I’m now back home in Lifou, which has remained relatively sheltered from the crisis. Life hasn’t changed much, but we’re very aware of what is happening in Noumea. I know the problems and violence are ongoing.

On Thursday, September 19, two young Kanak men, Johan Kaidine and Samuel Moekia, whose families live in the southern village of Saint Louis were killed by French military police. Saint Louis has been a hotspot for clashes between the police and protesters since May, and there have been reports of gunfire on both sides.

However, even before the current unrest, the relationship between French police and the Saint Louis community wasn’t good. Saint Louis has a relatively high number of unemployed Kanak youth. It’s known as an area where youth get into trouble and are routinely picked up by the police for stealing, property destruction and similar offences.

There are long-standing and complex problems, and I want to pay respect to the families of Johan and Samuel who are mourning their two sons. Like many Kanaks, I know the actions of the police in this village have been totally disproportionate and heavy-handed.

The military has closed off the entry points to Saint Louis. Residents can’t drive in and out. To get to the supermarket or the next village, people have to walk. When they’re at the military checkpoints, they have to present their IDs. To make it worse, the authorities have effectively issued an ultimatum to the Saint Louis community concerning an “arrest list” of our youth that they’ve issued. Johan and Samuel were named on that list. Authorities have said that unless the people on that list surrender, they’ll begin raids into the village.

To me, Saint Louis demonstrates everything that is wrong with New Caledonia right now. France must understand that the system they’ve imposed on us doesn’t work for everyone. It certainly doesn’t work for Kanak people, and it also doesn’t work for many of those who’ve migrated here from other places.

We are in the process of decolonisation. We are in the process of thinking about how we can build our country together. The independence movement and subsequent Accords process that our political leaders secured in the 1970s and ‘80s was based on building a united New Caledonia or Kanaky, with all our communities. It wasn’t about drawing divisions across our islands.

I believe we will see the economic and social crisis at its peak in the following months.

This is an opportunity to transform, to rethink all the systems that have been imposed on us. We can rethink the school system, the economy, our political structure, our social relationships, and even our religious structures.

It’s already started in our neighbourhoods, but we need France to play its part in that transformation.

First and foremost, it must stop sending soldiers and weapons. France has to honour the Noumea Accord and carry out the promised decolonisation process — and it must take responsibility for what has happened.

The French government must come down and see what is happening on the ground. Our leaders in Kanaky — those who’ve been elected, our customary leaders and church leaders — must come as well. They all need to have a genuine dialogue with our communities so they can understand the struggle and uncertainty we live with, and the kind of Kanaky we are working towards.

This is about understanding the voice of the people. And they can’t do that from an office or parliament building — or France.

The spirit of our youth and people is one of determination. There is no going back. The fight for our dignity and freedom is a fight for all of humanity. We all need healing and freedom.

 

Billy Wetewea is from the Gossanah tribe on the Kanaky island of Iaai (Ouvéa). He grew up in Nouméa, and is an ordained minister of the Protestant Church of Kanaky New Caledonia. Billy lives and works on Lifou Island at the Bethany Pastoral and Theological Training Centre. 

 

He would like to acknowledge the solidarity shown for his Kanak people by Māori in Aotearoa, and say oleti gan hmâ for the support, prayers, and love during this time. Billy recognises the kinship between Kanak and Māori as Indigenous communities fighting for their freedom, dignity and right to exist as a people in the mosaic of people’s culture and identity around the world

As told to Teuila Fuatai. Made possible by the Public Interest Journalism Fund.

E-Tangata, 2024