From “We Don’t Feed Natives” to “We Are One Nation”: Crocombe’s Truth, Somare’s Defiance, Marape’s Grace, and Bougainville’s Question
By Cyril Gare – Freelance journalist, editorialist
Flags are flying high. Kundu drums are beating loud. Live bands are playing, dancers are strutting their stuff in traditional attire, and important guests are arriving with big smiles and long speeches. Since June, Papua New Guinea has been celebrating her 50 years of independence in style—set to culminate on 16 September. But behind all the noise and colour, this moment is more than just a party. It’s a time to think. To look back at our colonial past, to thank the brave leaders who stood up for us, and to ask ourselves—what kind of country have we become?
We’ve come 50 years as a nation—but have we grown up? Our Constitution speaks of justice, equality, and respect, but too often those words stay trapped in dusty books and forgotten speeches. Leaders promise change, yet the same old problems keep showing up with new names. Roads are still broken. Violence is everywhere. Respect for women and girls is fading. Betelnut spittle paints our streets. Schools still struggle, and public offices still move at the speed of coffee breaks. So as we wave our flags and beat our drums, let’s also ask: are we building a nation that truly serves its people—or just decorating the cracks?
But it’s not all doom and gloom. We still have the power to shape our future—if we’re brave enough to speak up, smart enough to plan, and honest enough to act. The next 50 years won’t be written by ceremonies or speeches, but by everyday choices: how we treat each other, how we protect our land, and how we hold leaders to account. So let the drums beat, yes—but let them also remind us that real change doesn’t come from noise. It comes from action.
As the final notes ring out on 16 September and the flags begin to rest, may we remember that independence is not just a date—it’s a duty. A duty to honour the past, fix the present, and build a future worthy of the next generation. The party will end, but the work must go on.
It is a time of reflection for the most. A time to revisit the uncomfortable truths of our colonial past, to honour the courage of our founding leaders, and to assess the character of our nation today.
The late Professor Ron Crocombe, in his 2009 article Australia’s Own History of Apartheid in PNG, did not mince words. He laid bare the systemic racism that underpinned Australia’s colonial administration. Crocombe recounted a 1964 Qantas flight where a Papua New Guinean passenger was denied a meal. When he protested, the hostess replied:
“We don’t feed natives.”
“It’s company policy,” she added. “We are not allowed to feed natives.”
This was not an isolated incident. It was emblematic of a broader policy of exclusion. Elected leaders like John Guise had to fill out forms titled Application for Permission to Remove a Native just to travel abroad. High schools were withheld until 1955. Everything was designed to suppress national consciousness. Crocombe’s account is not just a historical indictment—it is a mirror held up to a painful past.
But Papua New Guinea did not remain passive in the face of this indignity. Grand Chief Sir Michael Somare, the man from Karau, Murik Lakes in East Sepik, saw through the colonial façade. He did not wait for permission to dream. He demanded independence—not later, but now.
Somare’s bitterness toward Australian racism was not confined to PNG. He saw it mirrored in apartheid South Africa, in the segregation of Aboriginal Australians, and in the global resistance movements of the 1960s.
“Australia treated us like second-class citizens in our own land,” Somare declared in a 1973 speech to the House of Assembly. “They said we were not ready. But we are not inferior. We are not children. We are a people with dignity, and we must govern ourselves.”
He knew that waiting for Australia to declare PNG “ready” was a trap. The racism he witnessed—both at home and abroad—taught him that independence was not a gift to be granted. It was a right to be claimed.
Somare’s leadership was catalytic. He mobilized a coalition of visionary leaders, transferred powers from Canberra to Konedobu, and spearheaded the drafting of PNG’s Constitution through the Constitutional Planning Committee. He refused to let racism define PNG’s destiny.
And so, on September 16, 1975, the Bird of Paradise took flight—not as a token of colonial charity, but as a symbol of defiance, dignity, and destiny.
Fast forward to February 8, 2024. Prime Minister James Marape stood in the Australian Parliament and did something unexpected. He thanked Australia—not for its racism, but for its legacy of democracy.
“The amount of work Australia put into the administration of Papua New Guinea can never be ignored,” Marape said. “History holds all the details, but the greatest, most profound impact of Australian rule is the Democracy you left with us.”
He honoured missionaries, teachers, and public servants. He invoked Chief Kondomo Agaundo’s prophecy:
“You may laugh at me now, but one day, my sons will come and speak to you in your language, and you will listen.”
That prophecy was fulfilled in Marape’s own voice.
He charted history too for being the first Pacific leader ever to address the Australian Parliament.
And now, in 2025, as we stand on the threshold of our 50th Independence Anniversary, we are reminded of how far we’ve come—and how far we must still go.
We’ve faced pandemics, corruption, environmental threats, and bureaucratic inertia. Yet, we rise.
“Despite all odds, we are still standing—stronger, wiser, and more united than ever,” Marape declared in his Jubilee message. “This 50th Independence Anniversary is not just a mark of age, but a testimony of God’s sustaining grace and our people’s perseverance.”
Crocombe gave us the truth. Somare gave us the courage. Marape gave us the grace. And the 50th Anniversary gives us the moment.
Let us not sanitize history. Let us not romanticize colonialism. But let us also not be consumed by bitterness. Instead, let us reflect, reconcile, and rededicate ourselves to building a nation worthy of its pain and promise.
Because we are not just the children of colonialism—we are the architects of our own destiny.
And to those who said we wouldn’t make it past 1975, we say:
Look again. The Kumul flies. The nation stands. And the future beckons.
Bougainville’s Question: The Final Test of Our Integrity
But as we celebrate our own freedom, a question looms—one that tests our moral compass and national integrity.
In 2019, the people of Bougainville voted overwhelmingly—97.7%—for independence from Papua New Guinea. It was not a protest. It was a peaceful, United Nations-sanctioned democratic expression of self-determination, born from decades of conflict, sacrifice, and hope—about 20,000 lives perished. The Bougainville Peace Agreement promised that this vote would be respected, pending ratification by PNG’s Parliament.
By 1 September 2027, we will know whether that promise was kept.
President Ishmael Toroama has made his position clear:
“Bougainville will not accept any other options but independence.”
“We must never compromise our resolve for an independent Bougainville and settle for anything less than what we voted for in the 2019 Referendum.”
“Compromise by the past leadership is the reason why Bougainville has remained tethered to Papua New Guinea for the last 70 years.”
He has warned that if the moderation process fails, Bougainville will explore “all other precedents and legal options available,” including the adoption of an Independence Constitution and a unilateral declaration of independence on 1 September 2027.
Prime Minister James Marape, while acknowledging the referendum result, has urged caution:
“I’m ready to take the result into the floor of Parliament. But what is it? Are you willing to accept the result of the floor of Parliament—just like I accepted the result of the 97.7% vote?”
Marape has emphasized the need for a “road map that leads to a lasting peace settlement,” not just a political divorce.
So we must ask:
Are we now the colonizer?
Would we be “racist” too, if we denied Bougainville the very right we demanded from Australia in 1975?
Would God hold us accountable for suppressing a people’s yearning to be free?
Because independence is not a gift to be granted—it is a right to be claimed earnestly under natural law.
We, who once stood barefoot before Canberra and said “we are ready,” must now look Bougainville in the eye and ask:
Are they not ready too?
Let our 50th Independence Anniversary be not just a celebration of our own sovereignty, but a recommitment to the principles that birthed it. Let it be a moment of truth, of courage, and of justice.
Because if the Kumul truly flies, it must never cage another bird longing to soar.__
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