Last June, French Polynesia caused a surprise by sending three pro-independence lawmakers to the National Assembly—its entire quota. In 2017, the pro-independence candidates had won only one seat, and none in 2012.
Could it be that this unexpected success is partly due to the COVID-19 pandemic, which hit French Polynesia hard during the summer of 2021?
This possibility cannot be ruled out because the local situation is shaped by a complex relationship with the government; since the 1995 nuclear tests, the fear of being the victim of a conspiracy has remained very much alive, as nuclear power plays a role in Polynesia comparable to that of chlordecone in the Caribbean.
Political life in French Polynesia has long been structured around two major parties, both of which emerged simultaneously in 1977: the Tahoeras’a huira’atira (People’s Union), founded by Gaston Flosse, a Gaullist and advocate of autonomy, and the Tavini huira’atira (Serving the People), an independence party founded by Oscar Temaru.
However, several factors worked against the independence party and in favor of the autonomy party. These include, in particular: Polynesia’s long-standing ties to the Republic, stemming from the fact that full citizenship was granted as early as 1880; the early attainment of an initial autonomy status (as early as 1977), which made it more difficult to criticize the French state and to express any inclination toward secession; and finally, the clientelist practices of the majority autonomist party, which skillfully used the state’s largesse—dispensed during the period of the Pacific Experimentation Center (CEP), the agency responsible for conducting nuclear tests beginning in 1966—to consolidate its foothold.
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With little political space available to them at the time, the independence activists were driven to adopt a radical and vindictive rhetoric, not hesitating to accuse France of “banditry” or “state terrorism,” and championing an ethno-nationalist conception of Polynesian identity with the slogan “a Maohi identity, a Maohi people, a Maohi tradition.” This radicalization did not help lend credibility to the independence cause.
However, a unique set of circumstances gave new momentum to the independence movement in the early 2000s. To gain acceptance for the resumption of nuclear testing in 1995, President Jacques Chirac promised a new autonomous status to his friend and loyal supporter Gaston Flosse, who served as president of the territorial collectivity from 1996 to 2004. This highly advantageous status was also intended to permanently cut the ground from under the independence movement’s feet.
But the plan did not work out as intended. In the 2004 territorial elections, a pro-independence coalition managed to win a majority of the seats by exploiting the voting system designed by Gaston Flosse to its advantage. A political crisis ensued that lasted several years. After being convicted in court, Gaston Flosse eventually stepped down in favor of his son-in-law, Édouard Fritch, but the two men fell out in turn, leading Fritch to form his own party, Tapura huira’atira, which now represents the majority pro-autonomy movement.
On the other hand, nuclear tests have caused a deeper rift in the population than expected. Although health studies consistently offer reassurances, a growing sense has taken hold that local and national elites are downplaying the effects of radioactive fallout.
Furthermore, the issue of nuclear power has become particularly sensitive in part because of its heavy exploitation by the Protestant Church. Deeply committed to the cause of independence, the Church has made nuclear testing a symbol of the French state’s exploitation of the Maohi people.
Protestantism, however, is deeply rooted in Polynesia, where colonization was initially led by the British. At the same time, numerous religious movements have flourished (Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Adventists, etc.), creating fierce competition among the various denominations, particularly among Protestant churches: each is doing everything in its power to attract a population that remains deeply devout but is increasingly drawn to atheism.
These rivalries between religious groups are all the more intense because the 1905 law does not apply in Polynesia, which allows local authorities to provide support to religions, particularly through subsidies to private schools and organizations.
To ensure its continued local presence, the Protestant Church of Polynesia then chose to switch to the pro-independence camp, thereby breaking with its initial stance during the 1958 referendum. In this way, it was able to downplay the fact that it had arrived on the island with the colonizers, while distancing itself from the Catholic Church, which it accused of conformism and submission to colonial power.
Taking up the cause of the indigenous Maohi people (in 2004, it changed its name to the Maohi Protestant Church), she developed a highly messianic rhetoric, occasionally drawing parallels with the fate of the Hebrews. She did not hesitate to accuse the French state of keeping the indigenous people in slavery (“the Ma’ohi people are under the slavery of the French state”) and even of seeking to wipe them out (“France derives its Life from the Death of the Maohi”).
In doing so, she lends legitimacy to a politicized, conspiracy-theory-driven narrative that, while it may repel some believers concerned about religious neutrality, takes root in people’s minds. More generally, a large portion of the electorate is well aware that Polynesia has become highly ethnically diverse, which makes them skeptical of appeals to the “indigenous people.”
It was against this backdrop that the coronavirus pandemic came along and shook things up. Even more so than the lockdown—which weakened an economy heavily dependent on tourism and the export of local products—it is vaccination that has brought tensions to a head, as it is viewed with deep suspicion in pro-independence circles, where people tend to favor ritualistic preventive measures based on prayer and traditional remedies.
However, to address the sharp surge in the epidemic during the summer of 2021, the Polynesian government was forced to take a radical decision on August 20, 2021: it mandated vaccination for several categories of people, such as the most vulnerable.
Mistrust, which was already high, reached a new level when voters learned that two leaders of Édouard Fritch’s Tapura autonomist party—namely, Vice President Tearii Alpha and Assembly President Gaston Tong Sang— were refusing to get vaccinated.
To make matters worse, these debates arose a few days after an event that had a profound impact on the fenua (the local term for the country): the lavish wedding of Vice President Tearii Alpha, attended by 300 guests—including President Édouard Fritch, who came to sing and play the guitar— without observing safety protocols.
President Emmanuel Macron’s visit in late July 2021 will not ease the situation. For one thing, he did not deliver the speech that was expected on the nuclear issue: while he spoke of a “debt” and announced measures to facilitate medical care and access to archives, he refused to apologize or to link all cases of cancer to nuclear power.
Emmanuel Macron then strongly defended vaccination, but it was precisely after his three-day visit—during which there were numerous public displays of affection and gatherings—that the epidemic saw a sharp spike.
Even more than the desire to punish the local autonomist government, it was thus a buildup of concerns—a mix of the political situation, memories of the nuclear issue, and the question of vaccination—that created a climate favorable to the independence movement. Many voters may have felt that local and national leaders were conspiring against the Polynesian people. Édouard Fritch’s alignment with Emmanuel Macron reinforced this perception. Religion also plays a role in the background, since Fritch is Catholic, as is his vice president, who presided over the controversial wedding.
It should be noted, however, that Emmanuel Macron won a majority in the second round of the presidential election (51.8%). While this result is certainly lower than in 2017 (58.4%), it is important to remember that Marine Le Pen won by a landslide in all other overseas territories, as well as in the municipality of Faa’a—a stronghold of independence supporters —where she received 52% of the vote.
The upcoming regional elections in March 2023 will reveal whether the pro-independence party is capable of sustaining its success or whether it merely benefited from a favorable alignment of the stars.
