The riots that erupted in the Papua New Guinea capital, Port Moresby, on January 10 have left a trail of destruction likely to have severe political ramifications. Such disturbances in Melanesia’s major cities are not unusual, but the scale of the riot—triggered mass looting in Honiara in November 2021 and in Port Moresby in January 2024—has been greatly increased by the large-scale drift of youths from the rural areas to the towns. The riots left 22 dead in Papua New Guinea, a grisly tally reached after seven
charred corpses were belatedly discovered in two of the capital’s burnt out shops.
Those disturbances have been seen by some as a response to chronic urban unemployment, by others as a reaction to badly mishandled fiscal policy and by still others as an orchestrated opposition conspiracy.
Prime Minister James Marape claimed that ‘political influence’ lit the match that sparked the riots and that
these were the work of ‘organised arsonists’ who were assisted by “some rogue element of our police force”.
The timing of the riots makes the allegation of political triggers plausible. Since the July 2022 general election, Marape’s government has been immune from a no-confidence challenge on the floor of parliament owing to an 18-month grace period which expires in February 2024. The grace period law was initially introduced as a 6-month immunity in the 1975 Constitution but then extended to 18 months in
the early 1990s. It was intended to diminish the incidence of no-confidence votes, but – paradoxically – it has made these more likely. Ever since, sitting Prime Ministers have repeatedly faced no-confidence challenges at the end of their first 18 months. Some have survived, some have fallen, but all MPs expect a period of political instability at that point.
Unscrupulous politicians have not been averse to whipping up social discontent ahead of such contests. In 2016, for example, police fired on students demonstrating at the University of Papua New Guinea in support of an opposition no-confidence motion against then-Prime Minister, Peter O’Neill.
Marape himself clearly smells danger. In a post-riot press conference, he appeared flanked by 26 pro-government MPs, a characteristic media show of strength when there is an expectation of a challenge. At least eight of the government’s MPs have resigned. Morobe Governor Luther Wenge, a member of Marape’s own Pangu Party, has called for an emergency sitting of parliament to secure a change
in the leadership. Marape’s response has been to reshuffle and expand his cabinet, with Treasurer Ling Stuckey being demoted. The move is clearly intended to shore up the ruling coalition ahead of an anticipated February vote on the floor of parliament, but it resulted in one of those demoted, former
Minister for Petroleum Kerenga Kua, joining the Opposition.
Peter O’Neill, Marape’s 2011-19 predecessor, is angling for a comeback, but his reputation has been tarnished by scandals about giving false evidence to an inquiry into a US$1.2 billion loan acquired by his government and about derailing investigations into US$20 million illegally paid to a local law firm.
Conspiracy theories spread like wildfire in the wake of Melanesian urban riots. Politicians are often quick to point a convenient finger at their scheming opponents. Yet, whatever the immediate triggers, it is the presence of such large numbers of impoverished under-employed youths in Melanesian cities that accounts for the scale and ferocity of urban rioting, looting and arson in cities such as Port Moresby in 2009 or 2024 or Honiara (Solomon Islands) in 2006, 2019 or 2021.
In the wake of the PNG riots, Marape appealed to his country’s under-employed youths, promising jobs and education. Less than 3% of Papua New Guinea’s 11 million people have formal sector jobs. Government hopes that mineral resource booms will absorb many of the under-employed, but the liquid natural gas industry has created little in the way of permanent long-term employment.
The country’s other major export earner, logging, delivers occasional spurts of income to rural areas, but it too cannot soak up the annual flow of unemployed school-leavers. Government appeals to the younger generation to return to the countryside to take up subsistence cultivation, but poverty is at its most acute in the rural areas between the coasts and the relatively resource-rich Highlands.
Until Melanesian politicians find some answer to their country’s employment woes, they will need to ensure that their police forces are properly and adequately paid.
Jon Fraenkel is a Professor of Comparative Politics at Victoria University in Wellington, New Zealand.
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this publication.
