Whither Pandemonium?

Every once in a while (schedules are not rigid in the South Pacific), the natives of Tanna island daub their chests with red paint to spell out the letters U.S.A. Then, equipped with bamboo poles to symbolize rifles, they march down to the shores of the Pacific to await the arrival of John Frum. This godlike figure, whose origin is shrouded in mystery, is a legendary black cousin of Franklin D. Roosevelt. He is expected to reappear from the surf some day with all the Jeeps and chewing gum and other marvels that G.I.s brought to the New Hebrides during World War II. John Frum never comes, but the people of Tanna take his continued absence in good spirit.

Such are the New Hebrides, a tranquil cluster of 72 islands some 1,000 miles east of Australia. There are no taxes and no newspapers, and only five miles of paved roads on the entire archipelago. Telephone service to the outside world shuts down entirely for two days a week, and the flight-departure board at the main airport often lists the time of Air Pacific's next scheduled flight as "soon as possible." Despite the many things they do not have, however, the New Hebrides have, in effect, two governments, for they are the world's only functioning condominium.

This curious arrangement came about in the late 19th century, when the New Hebrides represented a kind of no man's land between the British and French colonies in the South Pacific. Neither power showed much interest in them, but as traders from both countries had settled there, a protocol was drawn up in 1906 to provide for a joint Anglo-French administration.

Two of Everything. Since the two countries rarely agreed on anything, even after years of debate, the New Hebrides acquired two school systems, two currencies, two police forces and two prisons (word is that the French have better food, but the British jail is more comfortable). There were also three sets of laws (French, British and native) and three governing units, including the joint administration that operates under the authority of the other two. When the French moved to new hilltop offices in the capital of Port Vila Oust Vila to the British), it was discovered that the Tricolor was flying higher than the Union Jack, and so the French had to trim their flagpole. Out of such contretemps, the condominium acquired the nickname of Pandemonium.

Now it appears that Pandemonium is due to enter a new phase of confusion. The British Foreign Office and the French Department of Overseas Territories have agreed on a new constitution that provides for elections for a representative assembly to be held some time next year. Most officials see it as the first step toward independence. As one British official put it, "We feel an obligation to ensure that the New Hebrides are brought into the 20th century."

Although the 95,000 islanders no longer eat "long pig"--the name their cannibalistic ancestors gave to human flesh--many of them are still rather remote from modern times. Tribes in some areas still use stone tools and hunt with bows and arrows. On Pentecost island, the favorite sport is free-fall diving from a 100-ft. tower to the jungle floor--with only a trailing vine tied to the ankles to break the fall a few inches from the ground.

Despite the tribal ways, the capital of Port Vila is being rapidly transformed into a flourishing business center. Reason: when political tensions were rising in the Caribbean during the late 1960s, a number of financiers discovered that the New Hebrides were both peaceful and taxfree. In the last five years, 950 overseas companies have moved in, including eight active banks and representatives of 47 others.

Toward Independence. On the whole businessmen say that they are not worried about the proposed change of government. Says Denis Catt, the British manager of Melanesia International, the islands' biggest trust company: "Independence has got to come. It would be quite wrong if it didn't. But it's highly likely that when it does, the financial center will be seen as a benefit and allowed to continue."

There is disagreement from Father Walter Lini, 32, son of a native servant and now an Anglican priest and president of the National Party, the islands' biggest political organization. Says he:

"As far as we are concerned, the tax haven can disappear tomorrow. The difficulty we have is getting the indigenous population to participate in the political and commercial thinking." As one British official put it, "The New Hebridean wants to be himself. He's had a look at the European way of life and in many cases has opted for his own. Being a New Hebridean on a coconut island, after all, can be a very satisfying full-time job."

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