Fiji coup's aims remain in place despite arrest of leader

There was a deafening silence in the South Pacific last week; with George Speight, the Fijian coup leader, finally behind bars, his hectoring tones had abruptly subsided. But, four days after his arrest, questions remain about why it took so long for him to receive his comeuppance.

There was a deafening silence in the South Pacific last week; with George Speight, the Fijian coup leader, finally behind bars, his hectoring tones had abruptly subsided. But, four days after his arrest, questions remain about why it took so long for him to receive his comeuppance.

When the army seized power in Fiji nine weeks ago, shortly after Mr Speight's gang took Mahendra Chaudhry's government hostage inside parliament, many observers assumed that it signalled the end of the former insurance broker's career in the limelight.

Instead the new military rulers negotiated with Mr Speight, granted most of his demands and, most gallingly, promised him and his fellow coup plotters an amnesty.

After the hostages were freed a fortnight ago, he continued to swagger around Suva, even strolling into the main Centra Hotel one day for breakfast, making Western diplomats and other guests choke on their coffee.

He seemed untouchable, until 10.30pm last Wednesday, when he was arrested at a roadblock near a school in Kalabu, on the outskirts of Suva. Mr Speight and his supporters had been based at the school since they vacated the parliamentary compound, leaving behind scenes of squalor and a stack of pornographic videos.

At the very least he will be charged with carrying arms, in breach of the amnesty. And he may even stand trial for treason, after threatening to kill the ailing 79-year-old president, Ratu Josefa Iloilo, unless he appointed a gaggle of Speight sympathisers to an interim civilian government.

The reason for the extraordinary turnaround in Mr Speight's fortunes is not clear. According to the most popular theory, the army played a clever waiting game.

Until the hostages were released, its hands were tied. Once that was achieved, it then waited for Mr Speight to trip himself up. Engorged with self-importance, he duly obliged.

Not content with overthrowing a democratically-elected government, he and his rabble mob occupied the school and refused to relinquish their stolen weapons. That gave the army an excuse to arrest him. The death threat against Ratu Iloilo was the icing on the cake.

With Mr Speight in custody, the army acted swiftly and decisively. It arrested his key aides, including Colonel Ilisoni Ligairi, a godfather figure who was his head of security, and a dozen renegade commandos.

Then it raided the school and arrested 269 people, scooping up all of his core supporters.

Aside from theprospect of Mr Speight receiving his just desserts, Fiji faces a bleak future. A civilian government sworn in on Friday includes just one ethnic Indian, although Indo-Fijians make up nearly half of the population.

It contains several hard-line nationalists, including the agriculture minister Apisai Tora, who organised civil disturbances against the Chaudhry administration - and then stood back while Mr Speight and other opportunists did the dirty work.

In the three years before general elections are held, the interim prime minister, Laisenia Qarase, will rewrite the constitution to strengthen the rights of indigenous Fijians and exclude Indo-Fijians from positions of power.

The multi-racial 1997 constitution, under which Mr Chaudhry was elected, has been scrapped; his was Fiji's first, and probably last, Indian-led government.

Mr Speight was moved from Suva to an offshore island yesterday. The army spokesman, Lieutenant Colonel Filipo Tarakinikini, said Mr Speight and his comrades were "all well and being seen by doctors".

This was one of the stock phrases used by Mr Speight when he was asked at his daily press conferences about the welfare of the hostages. How the tables have turned.