The State of the Federated States
What About Chuuk?
Can't Live With Them; Can't Live Without Them
Among the many challenges facing the Federated States of Micronesia, one issue dominates its future. It is an issue that, if not resolved in the next few years, could doom the young nation.
The issue is Chuuk, the largest and most populated of the FSM’s four states. Chuuk is a disaster zone, its stunningly beautiful islands and lagoons laid to waste by a political culture of greed and corruption. Its governors have been impeached. Its mayors have been arrested. Its government is bankrupt. Everyone seems to have a Chuuk story that revolves around a politician or landowner or, fill in the blank, who has ripped off the state or national government.
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Ask senior political leaders what to do about Chuuk, and they usually begin their answers with a long pause. In truth, no one knows what to do about Chuuk. Some will suggest, sotto voce, that Chuuk should be cut off from the FSM’s three other states: Pohnpei, Yap and Kosrae. Others, more Micronesian in style, say that any talk about Pohnpei breaking away from the federation is really a polite way of saying get rid of Chuuk.
Still, as much as cutting Chuuk loose would bring significant short-term satisfaction to some Pohnpeians, Yapese and Kosraeans, it isn’t a viable option. As Father Francis X. Hezel, the respected historian and political observer of Micronesia, notes, “The FSM won’t survive without Chuuk.” Chuuk, he says, is the literal heart of the country, positioned between Yap to the west and Pohnpei and Kosrae to the east.
At the core of the problem is a history of indulging the outrageous political and economic behavior of Chuuk’s state and local leaders. There was always a bailout around the corner, and the local politicians and national leaders knew it. Now, however, the times have changed. There seems to be a universal sentiment that no one—not Washington and certainly not cash-strapped Palikir, home of the FSM’s national capital—is in any mood to help the Chuukese dig themselves out of their current hole.
Some suggest Chuuk simply is not governable. That’s a harsh assessment, but recent history suggests it isn’t too far from the truth. Even the U.S. ambassador to the FSM, career diplomat Larry Dinger, who isn’t given to overstating the facts, says, “Chuuk is a complicated place. It wouldn’t be easy to govern in the best of circumstances, and it doesn’t have the best of circumstances.”
Chuuk’s problems aren’t just national issues. They darken the FSM’s reputation regionally and internationally. Take Hawai‘i: much of “Micronesia’s” multimillion dollar indebtedness to The Queen’s Medical Center for medical referral cases are for patients sent by Chuuk. Never mind that Pohnpei, Kosrae and Yap have, for the most part, become current with Queen’s for their medical referral tabs. Chuuk’s more than $3 million debt makes it difficult, if not impossible, for other Pacific Islanders to receive care at Hawai‘i’s largest medical center.
Chuuk’s history of financial mismanagement also threatens the future of the FSM. If Chuuk cannot make its annual financial contribution to the national trust fund that’s designed to, after 20 years, end U.S. grant funding, there may be no trust fund. That scenario now seems possible. The result will be that, in 20 years, when the new Compact of Free Association ends, the FSM will find itself with no further U.S. financial grants and no trust fund corpus.
Despite the record in recent years, there’s no question Chuuk has a political bench deep enough to bring about change. Chuuk has produced some of the region’s best leaders, men such as Tosiwo Nakayama, the FSM’s first president and a towering figure in Micronesian history. The current chief justice of the FSM Supreme Court, Andon Amaraich, who, with Nakayama, helped guide Micronesia to independence, also hails from Chuuk. There are many others who have contributed at all levels of political life.
Perhaps it will take a Chuukese to drive the change. If that is so, there may be some hope. National elections next March are expected to place a Chuukese in the presidency, the first national chief executive from that state since Nakayama stepped down in the mid-1980s. Either Vice President Redley Killion or Congress Speaker Jack Fritz, both Chuukese, is expected to replace President Leo Falcam of Pohnpei.
Hezel offers one possibility: “The (FSM) has to do to Chuuk what the U.S. is doing to the FSM.” Washington, as part of the current U.S.-FSM Compact negotiations, is demanding of the FSM national and state leaders greater reporting, auditing and oversight requirements for financial assistance. The goal is to develop greater accountability and transparency in the FSM’s financial management practices.
Regardless of the path, the only way change will come to Chuuk is if state and national leaders admit there is a problem and commit themselves to massive and immediate change. This political equivalent of “tough love” won’t be popular in Chuuk, where many apparently believe that there’s nothing wrong with using foreign aid dollars to build mansions or buy big boats. But there is no other option, and time has just about run out for Chuuk and for the FSM.
