Prior to the 2006 referendum, delegates from Tokelau met with Tokelau communities in New Zealand and Australia in order to explain and discuss the contents of the proposed treaty between Tokelau and New Zealand. Members of the overseas communities were surprised and greatly disappointed to learn that they, as non-residents, did not have the right to vote in the upcoming referendum. The consequences of migration had never before been made so clear. As a Tokelau leader put it at one of the meetings in New Zealand, ‘you have already self-determined [i.e. you have chosen not to stay and share our lot]. Now it is our turn to determine our future.’ (Ulu, personal communication).

This situation caused some people to think that if Tokelau opted for self-government, they (in New Zealand) would lose their New Zealand citizenship. This unfounded fear led to strong feelings against self-determination among some (an apparent confusion between independence and self-government). As a result, relationships between overseas communities and Tokelau were activated, with some members from the overseas communities taking an active role in influencing the outcome of the vote, through nation-wide radiobroadcasts, as well as newsletters, visits, and telephone and internet contact with family members who were in the atolls. Thus, the existence of a Tokelau transnational community became manifest as a political reality influencing issues in the homeland.

The local circumstances associated with the second referendum, held in Atafu in 2007, were markedly changed. In order to explain an observed shift in allegiances, that took place between the first and the second referendum, I shall turn to the events behind the newspaper headline asking whether ‘Sex and self determination [is] to blame for recent [population] trends?’ Firstly, this case clearly demonstrates the extent to which new forms of media have become an integral factor in political life in the atolls and overseas. Secondly, the ‘sex’ part of the news story refers to a much-publicised event involving a pastor who had a sexual relationship with an adoptive daughter, then 12 years old. At the time, he was made to leave Atafu by the council of elders. He returned after some years and, following the traditional method of conflict solution, went to the elders and abased himself by asking their forgiveness (ifoga). The elders seemed to accept his apology, but subsequent events demonstrated that the council was divided on this issue. When the man subsequently took up the position of pastor again, the dissidents, about half of the council of elders, stopped going to church. On 3 August 2006, the New Zealand Herald reported that ‘church boycotters lose village council jobs’ over this issue.

Both to boycott the church and to expel members of the village councils in this manner was unprecedented and unheard of in Tokelau. The dissidents in this case were soon nicknamed Al Qaeda and became the victims of overt, violent attacks against themselves and members of their extended families. This also unprecedented and culturally unacceptable overt violence caused quite a number of people to relocate to New Zealand. These exiles continue to await further developments in the hope of a possible return when more harmonious (in local terms, maopoopo, signifying togetherness and stable leadership) village conditions emerge. Members of this group have also pleaded their case in New Zealand newspapers, demonstrating once and for all that the scale and media of Tokelau political debate have expanded beyond the atolls.

A significant factor that links this case to the processes of implementing the infrastructure deemed necessary for an act of self-determination is the delegation by New Zealand administration of its powers to the local councils, the Council of Faipule and the General Fono. As a result of this delegation or transfer of administrative powers from New Zealand to Tokelau, there is a feeling of a loss of third party appeal to New Zealand and of being at the mercy of local power politics. However, those who feel this way are in this case left with ‘modern’ arguments, having to appeal to the human rights charter and principles of democracy, which do not hold as much authority in the villages as the more traditional ways of conflict resolution (ifoga) do, In consequence, those who feared loss of third party appeal shifted their votes: from the first referendum where they voted for national unity and political self-determination, in the second they chose not to place themselves ‘under’ the sole authority of the local leadership,

In sum, the conflicts between opposing views as to how life should be lived in the communities, in Tokelau and also overseas, run deep and have long histories attached to them. Underlying these stances however, are the very real issues of conflict and rivalry about positions of leadership in the new national government: in particular the positions of faipule (and ulu), but also the pulenuku, and senior administrative positions. The position of faipule has become increasingly powerful, at the expense of the family (kaiga) representation and social security granted previously by the consensus-based village councils. This social security (expressed in the values of maopoopo, cooperation, and alofa, love, generosity and compassion) was the basis of the legitimacy of the pule (power) of the village councils of elders.

During the last decade, an increasing number of people reject the dominant new form of leadership. They may have lost their faith in the taupulega’s authority to ensure that their kaiga’s voice is heard. As a result, some think that it is vital that NZ, the UN or other external institutions mediate. They see themselves facing a situation where they might risk being left with the current unstable and unpredictable local leadership.