Ask anyone about British history, and it’s fairly likely that they will associate the nation with its former Empire. A subject hotly debated in the media, Britain’s colonial past is extensive, and the challenge now facing it is deciding what stance to take on its morally questionable past. The more important, and often least considered aspect, is how these powerful nations changed the places that they colonised, and perhaps also what action must now be taken, five hundred years later, to rectify historical wrongs. In the South Pacific, English influence radically altered every aspect of the indigenous populations’ lives, from language and religion to art and law, in the process creating a new hybrid society. I intend henceforth to explore the cultural shift across the islands of Australia, New Zealand, Tahiti and the Society Islands, Fiji, Samoa and the Solomon Islands.
Pre-colonisation, the South Pacific islands were not nations in their own right, but disparate societies sharing common Austronesian ancestors. Upon arriving in the South Seas, the Europeans immediately applied European cartographic logic to their mapping of the area in grouping islands together into groups. This very first action is indicative of the future treatment of the islands in a manner regardless of the existing native populations, as little effort was made by European explorers to learn place names, nor of the rivalries between villages and islands that would make grouping them together illogical. In one example, the Colonial Office made a proposal for the incorporation of Fiji with New Zealand (1), creating ‘huge agitation’ amongst their people, as the British government failed to take into consideration the political tension such an action would create, as they failed to understand the long-standing cultural incompatibility of Fiji and New Zealand.
England had created a romantic image of the South Seas that fuelled the desire for its annexation, by idealising it with stereotypes of everything that England wasn’t, centred around Tahiti. Where Englishmen felt their country was repressive, Tahiti was perceived as sexually permissive. Where England’s climate often prompted suffering in the winters and required hard toil to produce food, Tahiti was perceived as plentiful. The arrival of the English destroyed much of what they had found so attractive through the arrival of gunpowder, diseases such as smallpox and syphilis against which the locals were defenceless, tobacco and alcohol, destroying communities. It has been estimated that within ten years of the arrival of Europeans, close to 90% of the Polynesian population were wiped out, while the Aboriginal population plummeted from over 300,000 to around 80,000 in 1889, and the Maori population had dwindled to 40,000 by the beginning of the 20th century, counting for just 1/15 New Zealanders. (2)
To counter a popular misconception, however, this forceful imposition of English culture upon the islands was not the voyagers’ original intention. When Cook embarked on his first voyage in 1768, he received two sets of instructions from the admiralty. The first, relating to the observation of the Transit of Venus, gave the voyage a purpose. The second were opportunistic, and rarely discussed. These instructed Cook to “make discovery of” the southern landmass Terra Australis (appendix F), and to take possession of it if uninhabited. If not, the crew were to show the indigenous population “every kind of Civility and Regard”, reinforced by a letter from the 14th Earl of Morton, President of the Royal Society in London, who had organised the expedition (appendix G). The voyage was intended to be the perfect representation of the Enlightenment, furthering scientific research and uncovering the secrets of the last unknown quarter of the world, not one of violence and plunder. It is therefore clear that these instructions were disregarded when Cook’s expedition reached their destination, engaging in violence on numerous occasions. Aside from trade, at no point were these first encounters positive for the indigenous people.
The initial contact that Captain Cook’s expeditions had made with land in the Southern hemisphere had created huge excitement in England. For the European nations, empire was an exertion of power and a status symbol in Europe, as well as an economic opportunity. British expeditions began with John Cabot’s 1497 expedition under Elizabeth I in response to the growing Spanish presence in South America, but found that they could not make any gains in the face of Spanish naval and commercial superiority, so turned their attention to as yet undiscovered territory. When Cook discovered islands on his first voyage (1768-71), therefore, there was a determination to establish an equally lucrative trade to that which England’s great rival Spain enjoyed from their colonies. As it quickly became evident that the islands were not rich in the precious natural resources prized in Europe, attention turned to the people inhabiting them instead. Having seen the huge success of the triangular slave trade from Africa, a similar model was employed with islanders known as ‘blackbirding’, in which workers were either legitimately transported or kidnapped to work three-year terms. The labour trade was in demand in Crown colonies, both in South America for mining and in Queensland, Australia to support the labour-intensive sugar plantations that were developing there. An estimated 62,500 Islanders were brought to Queensland between 1863 and 1904. (3) An entire industry was created around the South Pacific labour trade, prompting huge debate in England, as the trading of slaves had been banned in England in 1807, which rose to the Supreme Court. Some, such as Charles Lilley QC (later Chief Justice), saw the trade as an extension of England’s civilising mission, claiming that native Epinese men kidnapped in the 1871 case of The Jason had been ‘saved’, as they were landed as free men in a British colony and under the protection of English law.
“The moment these islanders touched the deck of an English vessel they were free, and had a right to habeas corpus. They were landed at Maryborough and allowed to land free ….” (4). The British colonisers took a ‘paternalistic’ view based on European images of Melanesia as backward and brutal, purporting that, irrespective of how Melanesians were brought to the colonies, “the labour traffic as now carried on is the best means of civilising and Christianising the Natives of the Solomon Islands and other islands in the Western Pacific” (5), and that the adoption of these European qualities would in themselves ‘civilise’ them, in a clear lack of respect for local custom.
Ironically, public concern grew to such as a degree that the government was forced to bring in the 1872 Kidnapping Act to protect ‘natives of islands in the Pacific Ocean, not being in Her Majesty’s dominions, nor within the jurisdiction of any civilized power’ (6), despite the issue of kidnapping resulting from the British presence. This evidence would suggest that by the end of the 19th century public opinion had already changed significantly from the ‘savages’ that the indigenous populations were once viewed as, to a people worthy of protection, although it must be noted that in doing so, the islanders were clearly infantilised, deemed incapable of protecting themselves.
Yet even in 1906, claims were still circulating that this form of slavery persisted in the South Pacific, capturing the attention of media the world over, as seen in appendix B. The possibility that slavery was still practised 75 years after England outlawed it in 1833 is evidence of the European attitude towards the South Pacific as a something of a backwater where usual morals and laws did not apply.
Many South Pacific tribes, particularly of the Solomon Islands, Samoa and Vanuatu, practised head hunting as a crucial part of their culture. It was this trait that strongly contributed to the white men’s denunciation of the islanders as ‘savages’, as it continued long after the widespread colonisation of the region. In Jack London’s 1911 account of his voyage around Micronesia, The Cruise of the Snark (7), he told of headhunters from Malaita (in the Solomon Islands) attacking his ship, as the Snark and other similar ships were engaging in blackbirding. He gave the specific example of Captain Mackenzie of a fellow ship, the Minolta, who was beheaded by islanders in retaliation for his men kidnapping villagers by force, as the islanders believed in the ‘eye for an eye’ form of justice, practised widely not only against Europeans but also between tribes. According to a village elder that I met from Vanuatu, headhunting and cannibalism occurred in the most remote areas of Vanuatu into the 1980s, highlighting long-term issues with law enforcement faced by Pacific authorities as a result of culture clash.
The immediate catalyst for the creation of the Kidnapping Act was the shocking murder of Bishop Patteson in 1872 (see appendix A) under similar circumstances. Patteson was a missionary, however blackbirders had on multiple occasions impersonated him in order to steal young boys from the islands, thus when he did visit, he was killed in reprisal. This was viewed as the islanders violently uprising against everything that the ‘benevolent’ colonisers saw themselves as standing for, a revolt against religion, the European presence and their imposed economy, a strong piece of evidence that the indigenous population felt strongly that their presence had a negative impact.
Aside from blackbirding, a great number of other hate crimes were perpetrated against the indigenous populations of the South Pacific, in some cases conducted as an orchestrated governmental campaign. When the First Fleet arrived in Botany Bay, Sydney, in 1788, setting in motion a seminal cultural collision. In Australia, this often meant the targeting of Aboriginal communities. Section 116 of the Constitution of Australia dates from 1891 (see appendix C), and it was this section of law that validated the removal of Aboriginal children from their families in the now-famous 1997 case Kruger vs the Commonwealth, known as the ‘Stolen Generation Case’. This term is now broadly applied to the issue of Aboriginal children being taken under the care of the Australian government, and is one of the most contentious issues in Australian politics today. In its 1997 report from the National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from Their Families, the Australian Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission (HEROC) declared the actions of the Australian government to be immoral, and in some circumstances, illegal (appendix D). For many people in Australia today, this case epitomises the mistreatment of the Aboriginal community, as their attempts at legal action rarely see success against the legal might of the Australian government, as well as the British, as, despite Australia gaining its independence in 1901, “the power of the British Crown to disallow Australian legislation remains in our Constitution although it would seem politically impossible to invoke it” . The case is not black and white, as a government study (appendix E) found higher rates of drug and alcohol abuse and smoking with consequent disproportionate representation of Aboriginal people in the criminal justice system. There is therefore some legitimate reason for children being removed from their parents, as supported by Keith Windschuttle in his book The Fabrication of Aboriginal History Volume 3: The Stolen Generations 1881–2008 – “My conclusion is that not only is the charge of genocide unwarranted, but so is the term ‘Stolen Generations’. Aboriginal children were never removed from their families in order to put an end to Aboriginality or, indeed, to serve any improper government policy or program. The small numbers of Aboriginal child removals in the twentieth century were almost all based on traditional grounds of child welfare” (8).
On some occasions, European tensions extended to the South Pacific. During the first and second Samoan civil wars, British, American and German naval contingents were sent to the area to protect colonial interests, and attempt to take control of Samoa by actively supported differing factions. On several occasions, warships shelled settlements, causing a huge deal of damage, and raids occurred upon both European and indigenous assets. (9) Eventually, the Samoan islands were divided between America and Germany, in exchange for Germany terminating their rights in Tonga and all of the Solomon Islands south of Bougainville. From a modern perspective, it can only be considered inappropriate for European navies to engage in war against the significantly less well-armed villagers, who still carried spears, resulting in significant loss of life for political advantage.
Elsewhere in the South Pacific, including Australia, the most significant form of crime against indigenous peoples was the theft of their land. In New Zealand, evidence shows agreements being made between the ‘Natives’ as they were called, and white settlers, such as the sale of land by the chief Rawiri Waiaua, demarcated by a clearly staked out line that the future Governors’ settlements could not cross (10). The sale of this land was however strongly opposed by people from surrounding villages, ultimately resulting in Rawiri’s murder. In New Zealand, the Maori population was particularly violent in their opposition of white settlers in comparison to other areas of the South Pacific, and following failed military efforts, it was this fear that prompted Europeans to attempt negotiation, as elsewhere they had facilitated new settlements through violence. New Zealand is consistently differentiated by British authority in its partial deference to Maori culture. An edition of the New Zealand Gazette published on February 12th 1858 makes reference to “conflicts between armed parties of Aboriginal Natives…to the danger and alarm of Her Majesty’s Subjects” and “therefore I, the Governor, of New Zealand, do hereby proclaim that all persons whosoever who shall unlawfully assemble with Arms…will…be treated as persons in Arms against the Queen’s Authority”. The British government is therefore attempting to create legitimacy for future conflict with indigenous people in the area, having issued a warning, as perhaps uniquely, each article in the New Zealand Gazette is printed both in English and a written form of the Maori language, demonstrating the beginnings of cultural cohesion.
Difficulties arose for the settlers as it was discovered that few Pacific languages use possessive pronouns, instead denoting ownership through activity, thus he who carves a canoe owns it (11). The early settlers had not made sufficient enough effort to learn local languages in order to be able to understand the sophisticated unwritten local ownership systems, thus imposed formal state-controlled European ownership.
Unlike the Tahitians, who had a clear hierarchical social structure that the British could relate to, the indigenous people of Australia were nomadic, and had no real concept of ownership. Instead, they cultivated a symbiotic relationship with their surroundings, living off the land and replanting what they had used. This allowed the convict settlers to infringe upon Aboriginal hunting and fishing grounds, later stealing possessions from the Aboriginal people and claiming land freely, creating huge resentment among the Aboriginals. The settling of land happened on a large scale, as the British convicts had come from a society where land ownership was dominated by gentry, thus rushed to take estates where they were available in Australia, as they associated land ownership with belonging to an upper social class. Reprisal attacks thus began on European settlers venturing into the bush to cut rushes. (12). Faced with mounting pressure to quash this indigenous resistance, Governor Phillip set about instead to capture a few Aboriginal men in order to better understand their culture, and end the violence. From this directive came the story of Bennelong, now one of the most famous names in Australian history. Born in about 1764, Bennelong was about 24 when the First Fleet arrived to create the first convict colony in Sydney Cove in January 1788, and lived to see the significant damage done to his people in the early phases of colonial presence. In mid-1789, a wave of smallpox swept the indigenous population, killing, Bennelong estimated, about 50% of them, including his first wife, and Arabanoo, the first Aboriginal man that Phillip had taken prisoner. Phillip once again wanted to learn more about the Aboriginal people, their life and language, so ordered First Lieutenant Bradley of HMS Sirius to capture ‘a Man or two’, which he did so on 25th November 1789, by luring Bennelong and another man, Colebee, from a gathering on the beach with a gift of two large fish. Bradley later wrote “They eagerly took the fish, they were dancing together when the Signal was given by me, and the two poor devils were seiz’d & handed into the boat in an instant…They were bound with ropes and taken by boat to Sydney Cove…It was by far the most unpleasant service I was ever ordered to Execute”. Bradley’s account indicates a level of respect for the Aboriginal people from the beginning of the Australian colony, contrary to the inhumane treatment that they were so often subjected to, and shows him questioning his superior’s actions; actions which caused cultural tension. Bennelong quickly learned simple English and adopted European manners. He became a valuable informant, willingly providing information about Eora clans and their language and customs. It was Bennelong who told Governor Phillip the names and locations of the Sydney clans and the Aboriginal name of Parramatta, which Phillip had at first called Rose Hill, but later renamed. As with every well-known historical figure, Bennelong’s story is surrounded by misunderstanding, and myths have emerged that he ‘collaborated’ with the British, was ‘taken to London to meet the king’ and was ‘despised by his own people’, all of which have been disproved. As there was little discussion of Aboriginal history in Australia until relatively recently, many revisionist interpretations emerged of Bennelong’s story, a good deal of which misrepresent the truth in order to present the British governance in a negative light, although it was doubtless much at fault. Bennelong was certainly no collaborator, and had been active in resisting the British colonists before agreeing to peacefully join the Sydney settlement in October 1790. Bennelong’s relationship with the British improved significantly over the years (despite Phillip being badly injured with a spear when he went to visit Bennelong, having escaped British imprisonment), and he attempted to find a place for Governor Phillip and his officers in the complicated Aboriginal kinship system. He even, as Watkin Tench wrote, “as a mark of affection and respect to the governor, he conferred on him [his own name] and sometimes called him Been-èn-a (father), adopting to himself the name of the governor. This interchange of names, we found is a constant symbol of friendship among them” (13). In 1872, Bennelong became the third Pacific Islander to be taken to Europe (after Ahu-toru, who Bougainville took to Paris in 1768, and Omai, who visited London in 1774, having met Cook on his second voyage). He would sail 10,000 miles to England and back to his homeland, wear fashionable Georgian clothing, possibly meet King George at the theatre and indulge in tourism, visiting St Paul’s Cathedral, the Tower of London and the Houses of Parliament at Westminster.
Bennelong’s importance in Australian history is immeasurable, extending beyond his capacity as an interpreter and mediator, linking modern Australia with the Aboriginal world that existed before 1788. He serves as a reminder of Sydney’s Aboriginal past. Bennelong himself had seen the best and worst of what Europe had to offer, and chose his own civilisation. When the Frenchman Pierre Bernard Milius invited Bennelong to France in 1802, Bennelong replied that ‘there was no better country than his own and that he did not wish to leave it’.
Religion and spirituality were extremely important to almost all 18th century societies, and those of the South Pacific were no exception. The Polynesians had many gods, with many different names and attributes, to whom the practise of making human sacrifices was not uncommon. Religion was similar across most of Polynesia, and centred around the sacred site of Marae Taputapuatea on Raiatea. Everything changed with the arrival of the arrival of Europeans, who brought with them Christianity. From a Western perspective, the adoption of Christianity in the Pacific can be seen as positive, as it encouraged peace amongst warring villages.
When missionaries began to make the journey to the South Pacific in the late 18th century, their sole aim was ‘civilising’ the indigenous population, and set out to change almost every aspect of their lives. People’s clothing became more conservative, the ancient art of body tattooing fell out of use and great religious artworks (for Pacific religions had mostly been based around icons) were dismissed as idols, and burnt. Marae Taputapuatea, which had been a site for worship for millennia, was allowed to fall into disrepair as the focus of South Pacific religion turned its attention towards Rome and the West. As one Maori man put it, “When the Westerners arrived, the Polynesians learnt to build houses from lime and limewash and build churches for worshipping God. We started praying inside the Church. We let go of the gods, the marae, the ways of our ancestors, all of it” (2). Missionaries had particularly struggled on New Zealand, failing to ‘save’ a single soul in their first fifteen years there.
The South Pacific languages had no written form, so to communicate ideas and messages, they used artwork. Lots of artwork was based around the gods and important rituals, usually in the form of wooden statues, although tattooing and scarification were also popular, particularly amongst the Maori. The Maori were unique in their practise of facial tattoos, or moku, a practice which continues today. Each design has a genealogy – Maoris wear their culture on their skin. As the head is the most important body part, facial tattoos are the most important of all, and represent ‘manu’ or honour. They honour Maoris’ ancestors, and ensure the survival of the Maori culture in a manner which proved shocking to Europeans. Despite some of the most violent beginnings, New Zealand went on to produce some of the best integrated indigenous-settler communities, partially engendered by the emerging hybrid religion. Maori converts didn’t see their conversion to Christianity as an abandonment of their old beliefs, as the missionaries had expected, rather took the aspects that they liked and incorporated them into their existing belief system. One particularly poignant carving depicts a Maori version of the Virgin Mary and child. Mary stands upon a severed head and has a full-face moku, which in Maori culture is an adornment reserved for the first-born daughter of noble families, indicating her as sacred, taboo to the rest of the community. This may have been the artist’s way of showing Mary as worthy of respect, whilst the baby Jesus has distinctly Maori physical features, a powerful representation of Maori culture embracing Christianity on familiar terms.
One important relic survived the missionaries – Taaroa (later named A’a following the arrival of John Williams and the missionaries – arguably the greatest of all Polynesian works, made hundreds of years ago on the island of Rurutu, in the shape of A’a, the creator god of the rivers. It was revered by locals, but they gave it away to the missionaries in the 19th century as proof that they had converted their beliefs, before being taken to London by the London Missionary Society and displayed as a trophy. A’a was recognised as a masterpiece of global art. Picasso kept a cast of it in his studio, as did the sculptor Henry Moore. A’a is still very important in Polynesian culture, and its absence is strongly felt. Its design is replicated in some body tattoos in homage to traditional worship. A’a is extremely important in the study of Pacific colonialism as it provides an example of Pacific culture having an impact on ‘civilised’ nations, its artists distinguishing themselves against their ‘Enlightened’ European counterparts. Eventually however, even the art was influenced by colonists. According to the influential Polynesian artist Angela Tiatia, the projection of European myths still haunts Polynesia, particularly that of the Polynesian woman. Women play a key part of the notion of tropical paradise, a myth stemming from the earliest sailors’ encounters with locals, that one could visit paradise and be presented with beautiful women. Only in the 21st century is the Pacific beginning to push back against this myth through art and poetry, and in places legislation. (2) From the time of Cook’s first voyages, Polynesia has been reduced to Western ideals: an escape from social and ethical conventions. Although we are now well into the 21st century, the West’s fantasy of paradise as envisioned by 17th and 18th century artists, has never been stronger.
The Dreamtime, in contrast to other Pacific religions, is a spiritual belief system based on artwork, telling the history of the Aboriginal history, so has been affected differently by colonisation. The use of art as a medium to pass information from one generation to another has created the oldest continuous artwork tradition anywhere in the world, the oldest examples dating to over 40,000 years ago. Aboriginal artwork often represents animals, scenes from the Dreamtime, or aerial views of landscapes, like a map, in dot form. As Aboriginal communities were driven further from the areas they had traditionally inhabited, they were also separated from their masterpieces, and their cultural expression. The Aboriginal people went into self-exile in the central Australian desert, and by 1900 had largely been written out of the story of modern Australia, and certainly out of its art. In the 20th century this would begin to change. The artwork of Albert Namajira, when it was shown in art galleries in large Australian cities, captivated the public. Namatjira had been born in Hermannsburg, a tiny Aboriginal settlement 80 miles from Alice Springs, centred around a Lutheran settlement. Namajira taught himself to paint, producing watercolours of the landscape of the highest quality, some of which are now in the National Gallery of Australia. In 1957, Namatjira became the first Aboriginal person to be granted full Australian citizenship, and as such was entitled to buy alcohol. Naturally, he shared this with his friends and family, for which he was charged with supplying alcohol to indigenous Australians in 1958, and died within a few months of completing his punishment of hard labour. (2) Namatjira’s story epitomises the tragedy of the problems faced by the Aboriginal population as a whole, a race of people persecuted by foreigners in their own country.
Perhaps the best example of Aboriginal art is a piece produced by 43 Aboriginal artists from Arnhemland, who created their own memorial to mark the bicentenary of the arrival of the First Fleet in 1988. The piece consists of 200 intricately carved hollow log coffins, one to represent each year of European settlement. They are monuments to the hundreds of thousands of Aboriginal people who have died since 1788 at the hands of European colonisers.
Aboriginal people remain marginalised politically, socially, and economically, but not artistically. Traditional dot paintings are now some of the most prized art in Australia, with Clifford Possum Tjapaltjarri’s painting ‘Warlugulong’ selling for a record $2.4 million at Sotheby’s in 2007 (14). Art is an escape for many aboriginal people, but has also become a source of income and self-respect, and helped them mark their place in their own country. (2)
When Cook and other early settlers first came to the South Pacific, they were keen to find translators, and teach indigenous people (such as Bennelong, and indigenous children in mission schools) English, but made little effort to learn local languages. One of the greatest colonial legacies left in the South Pacific is linguistic. Most Melanesian countries, with the exception of Fiji, speak a form of broken English known as Pidgin English or Bislama, with which they can understand one another. (15). In a region where 1244 languages are spoken by 300 million people (16), a common language is extremely useful, thus the British Empire has positively contributed to international relations, although Pidgin is a purely functional language with only one tense, so is limited in its use. There was also great success in introducing phonetic spellings of indigenous languages, based on the Latin alphabet that had been introduced by the missionaries in around 1814. Many chiefs saw the importance of written communication, especially given the presence of Europeans, who placed significant emphasis on the written word. The general European practise had been to limit the spread of indigenous languages, as it was believed that removing people’s ability to communicate by non-European means would facilitate their ‘civilisation’, so indigenous children taken from their parents were not taught their mother tongues, instead learning English and Latin from the missionaries. In this way, the most innate expression of culture was suppressed. It is only with the government backed re-introduction of these languages that their speaker base has risen in the last century, although many had already died out.
The impact of the British Empire persists even in 2018. Much of the bureaucratic structure of Australia, New Zealand and the Solomon Islands is a remnant of British autocracy. Australia employs a Westminster system, sometimes now referred to as ‘Ausminster’, indicating the progression of the Australian institution in creating its own pieces of legislation and laws, based on those of the British system, and common law. (17) Both New Zealand and the Solomon Islands also have laws very similar to the English, although amendments have been made since, particularly for the accommodation and inclusion of indigenous peoples. The Queen is still head of state in Australia, New Zealand and the Solomon Islands, all three nations identifying as independent sovereign states. In practise, the running of these countries is overseen by a President or Prime Minister and a democratically selected government. Elsewhere in Polynesia, Fiji and Samoa, which were at one point under British control, have reverted to indigenous monarchies or chiefdoms. These states are totally independent from British oversight, while Tahiti and the surrounding archipelagos became a French colony in 1880. The South Pacific has become fraught with political instability ever since the beginning of the move for decolonisation. The more economically stable countries, such as Australia and New Zealand, have strong established governments, whereas nations whose societies were the most heavily adapted by colonisation, notably the Solomon Islands have been faced with repeated coups and weak leadership. In recent years, countries united by their colonial pasts have come together to provide effective international aid in the form of RAMSI and similar schemes, showing that the scars inflicted by Empire can be reversed to do good.
To conclude, my research has clearly demonstrated that the impact of the British Empire has on the whole been hugely damaging to the culture of South Pacific nations, hugely impeding their social progression whilst systematically imposing Western culture, and destroying ‘savage’ practises. The British colonisers’ efforts to constrain indigenous culture is evident in their physical persecution, as well as the efforts made to change indigenous art, languages, location and politics. There is certainly also a degree of validity in Jeremy Paxman’s view that the Empire is “an amazing thing”, citing the education and medical innovation that it exported.
Furthermore the creation of stable government, judicial and education systems has allowed these countries to develop hugely.
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