Tahiti

Taking a stand in Polynesia

Refusing to wear anything but traditional dress is Tahitian native Clement Pito's way of protesting what he calls French occupation of his land.

Tahiti and its Polynesian neighbors have long been prizes of colonizing nations. Tahiti has been under French control since 1842 and a French colony since 1880. Its neighbors share a similar history. But Tahitians say it is not their land that is in danger -- it is their culture.

The French language, French culture and French merchandise are everywhere you look in Papeete, the capital of French Polynesia on Tahiti -- giving it an atmosphere and appearance of a French provincial town, with palm trees.

In 1767, when British sailors became the first Europeans to drop anchor in Matavai Bay, they were greeted by people whose culture was completely different from their own. Each ship returned to Europe with amazing stories of feasting and dancing, and of beautiful, exotic people. The stories inspired artists and writers with the philosophical ideal of the "noble savage."

Although the myth of idyllic paradise still has appeal in today's world, particularly for tourists, traditional Polynesian culture is in trouble. As older Tahitians begin to die off, there is greater pressure to pass ancient customs to a new generation.

One way that is happening is through dance classes, where young people learn the complex movements of what Tahitians believe is the language of the soul. Each movement reflects a traditional pattern of Polynesian life, or has its roots in ancient legend.

"They want to dance," said one dance teacher, "Everything about the culture is lost so fast. [W]e try together to keep our culture alive and adapt it to these contemporary times."

"Since the last 10 years, people like me, the youngsters, are searching for their own identity," said one dance student. "Because we have a mixture of French identity and Tahitian identity ... we're searching for our ancestral roots."

The challenge facing islanders is how to balance preserving their culture with protecting their standard of living, particularly since Tahiti will likely depend even more on tourism to continue its prosperity. Indeed some Tahitians see tourism as the most promising economic hope for the entire region.

Other Tahitians, however, see tourism as another form of globalization. Clement Pito, for example, refuses to wear anything but traditional dress. It is his way of protesting against what he calls the French occupation and oppression of his land.

His dress gets a lot of ridicule when he walks down the street, but it is very much a part of his campaign against everything that undermines Polynesian culture. That includes the more damaging aspects of the tourist trade.

Angry about the French government's decision in 1995 to resume nuclear testing in the South Pacific, some Tahitians took to the streets in a protest that was suppressed by French troops.

Protests delayed construction of one luxury hotel complex for four years. To many Tahitians the hotel site is a sacred and historic place, and they were outraged by the development plans.

"This place [the hotel site] is very important for me," said Pito, who was one of the chief protesters. "It is a sacred place. My ancestors die here. This place is my culture, and I don't accept the people to divide my culture. My culture is a taboo for me."

In September 1995, when President Jacques Chirac announced France would resume testing of nuclear weapons in the South Pacific, Tahitians felt their history and culture were under direct threat. (Since World War II, the United States, Britain and France have tested more than 250 nuclear devices across the Pacific. Most nations agreed to ban atmospheric testing in 1963, the notable exceptions being France and China.)

The ensuing riots that followed the French tests were among the worst in Tahiti's history. The French military responded immediately with force. Tahitians protesters fought back for a week before order was restored. The tests were halted in January 1996.

Oscar Temaru is the leader of the political party that has long demanded full independence from France. Now he champions the cause of hundreds of Tahitians who believe their health has been affected by exposure to radiation.

Temaru said he believes that since 1966 French authorities have sequestered health statistics to hide the increased incidence of cancers among islanders. "It was done on purpose to hide all those documents," Temaru said. "It's a crime against humanity."

The French government denied it is hiding anything, saying there is no health risk at the test sites. Some Tahitian families do report diseases such as leukemia that are sometimes associated with nuclear testing. But scientists cannot deduce much from anecdotal evidence.

As Scilla Elworthy, director of the Oxford Research Group and an international authority on nuclear weapons and their effects, put it, "We don't know what we've been doing, because there has been no large scale survey. And because the French have in fact not agreed to any serious survey being done, it can't be proved one way or the other."

Meanwhile, independent observers are piecing together statistical evidence that might offer answers. Whatever the evidence shows, some Tahitians say relations with the French may never be the same.