NA-GRIAMEL FEDERATION: The story of this fascinating political faction took place decades ago on the tiny South Pacific nation of Vanuatu, in the heart of Melanesia. At the time, the group of 83 islands was still called the New Hebrides, co-ruled by Britain and France, each with their own massive bureaucracies. Independence for what would become Vanuatu was scheduled for July 30, 1980, and the new nation would become a republic with the Commonwealth of Nations (usually known as the Commonwealth and sometimes as the British Commonwealth, this is a voluntary association of 53 independent sovereign states, most of which are former British colonies — the exceptions being the United Kingdom itself and Mozambique).
In order to understand what happened in the New Hebrides, it is important to know that the economic boom of the 1960s was the starting point of unrest for the Melanesians, who began to reclaim their land from foreigners. The Europeans viewed land as a commodity just like any other item. But this was contrary to the ancient customs of the ni-Vanuatu (a term used to refer to all Melanesian ethnicities originating in Vanuatu). Land, from the perspective of native New Hebrideans, was not something that could be owned. And therefore it could not be sold. Land was held in trust by families, from one generation to the next, as had been the tradition for thousands of years. One might give away or sell the use of land, but not the land itself. Europeans, however, took an entirely different viewpoint. Settlers had, for the most part, cleared undeveloped land to grow coconuts — copra being the mainstay of the economy for some time. But as the price of copra fell, planters began to look at alternatives. With the idea of expanding into cattle production/ranching, planters began clearing jungle adjoining their properties. This led to immediate protests on the islands of Espiritu Santo and Malekula from local villagers who objected strongly to yet more of their arable land being pilfered by the expatriates. Villagers argued that the settlers had no right to extend the undeveloped coastal strip any deeper into the bush than had been done already. This European-held land, in the villagers’ opinion, was exclusively theirs. The objections grew, and the natural resentment that had existed since the end of World War II sparked the formation of political parties. Land ownership became a national concern that polarized the population into two main categories — the Vanua’aku Party and the Modérés (Moderates). Consequently, the first stirrings of nationalist sentiments were witnessed in the emergence of Na-Griamel (also rendered as Nagriamel), a movement which called for all alienated land to be returned to indigenes. In the 1960s, France opposed Britain's desire to de-colonize the New Hebrides, fearing that the independence sentiment would be contagious in their mineral-rich colonial possessions in French New Caledonia.
Named after two indigenous plants (the nangaria and the namele), the Na-Griamel Movement came to fruition circa 1963 (one Internet source states January 15, 1961) under the almost messianic command of Jimmy (Tupou/Tubou Patuntun) Stephens. The founder’s name is sometimes rendered as Jimmy (Moli/Moly; a local honorific) Stevens. According to Internet sources, he was born on June 15, 1927. Stephens — a descendant of a Scottish sailor/trader and a Tongan “princess” — was an English-speaking half-caste (a métis). He was so revered that he was also known as “Chief President Moses” and “King/Prophet Moses”. Basically, the Na-Griamel Movement began as a localized, populist land rights movement with a strong nativist, anti-modernist, and autonomist tinge. They campaigned for the repossession of undeveloped ancestral lands that were no longer under communal ownership, for political/religious self-rule, and for a return to pre-contact rural naturalism and traditional ways. The members of this traditionalist movement felt an intense attachment to kastom (custom; a focus on customary, pre-colonial practices and the long-established, village-centered way of life), which they felt must be salvaged and preserved. Their rebellion was headquartered on the island of Espiritu Santo, in the fortified hilltop home-base of Tanafo (Fanafo/Fanefo/Vanafo, a kastom village, which was a concept realized by Stephens beginning in the ‘50s and ‘60s). At first, the movement was limited to Santo. But by the late 1960s, spurred on by reports of the acquisition of large blocks of land by U.S. developers, Na-Griamel had expanded to other islands in northern Vanuatu. An important figure named Chief Buluk (sometimes written as Bulluk) also played a major role in the early days of Na-Griamel. According to The Pacific Islands: An Encyclopedia, “In 1965 Stephens was joined by a kastom chief, Paul Buluk, who had spent several months in jail after a violent protest against the fencing and clearing of land just north of Luganville (later Santo Town). Buluk and Stephens prepared a proclamation, the ‘Act of Dark Bush’, forbidding settlers from extending their properties into the cooler, higher inland areas of the dak bus (dark bush) which were held in kastom ownership. Stephens is of mixed ethnic origins, the son of a Tongan woman and a Scots sailor. Barely literate, he speaks some English and French, but is a charismatic orator in Bislama [an English-based pidgin dialect that is the national language of Vanuatu; there are around 113 local vernacular languages — all Austronesian — spoken throughout the archipelago and Bislama is the only lingua franca spoken by almost all the population]. Employed as a supervisor in the hospital gardens on Espiritu Santo during World War II, he later worked for a Santo trader, then operated a bulldozer, and was employed by the British administration. Stephens and Buluk set up a village which they named Tanafo, about 30 km north of Luganville, in 1967, and were both imprisoned for 6 months on a charge of trespassing. The immediate result was a surge in popular support for both Stephens and Nagriamel, and by the early 1970s, he had been joined by hundreds of followers who helped to turn Tanafo into a model settlement. Stephens claimed to represent more than 20 per cent of all ni-Vanuatu, and it is possible that his supporters numbered 15,000 at their peak.” I have also read that Na-Griamel claimed to have a membership of 30,000 by 1971. Na-Griamel became increasingly political in its aims, and Stephens, who was impressed with Fiji’s attainment of independence in 1970, even hired an Indo-Fijian lawyer to assist him in 1968. By 1971, more than 36% of the land was owned by foreign missionaries, planters and traders. That year, in order to prevent any further sale of land to Europeans, Stephens lobbied the United Nations for an “Act of Free Choice”. He petitioned them in order to request early independence (within a year or by ‘77…I found conflicting information) for the archipelago. Britain and France agreed that under the terms of the Condominium neither would withdraw without the other, which became a recipe for inaction.
In a book entitled Melanesian Religion, G. W. Trompf provides a few more details about the religious aspect of the movement. Apparently, there was a “NaGriamel Federation Independent United Royal Church” on Santo and its “messianic leadership” held sway over many of the natives. “In search of a new identity, Buluk and Stevens sided with the Church of Christ Mission against Presbyterians, Anglicans and Catholics. Two indigenous Church of Christ pastors, Abel Bani and James Karai [head of the biggest church at Fanefo], worked vigorously to give NaGriamel their theological backing. As the emergent charismatic leader, however, Jimmy Stevens — with his syncretistic tendencies, his claim to be Moses leading his people to the Promised Land, and his freedom in sexual relations — greatly disappointed the previously elated expatriate Church of Christ missionaries, so that they had disowned Na-Griamel by 1975.” The author states that the “NaGriamel Royal Church has been distinct from, even if integrally related to, the land reform movement.”
In 1971, the New Hebrides Cultural Association formed on Espiritu Santo, and was renamed the New Hebrides National Party. Its leaders were Anglophone and non-Catholic. In 1974, it was again renamed the Vanua’aku Pati (VP). Its leadership came from the emerging English-speaking and ecclesiastical indigenous elite, was a self-consciously anti-colonial and somewhat socialistic national liberation movement. Initially, they also concentrated on kastom and land issues. An Anglican minister/priest named Father Walter Hadye Lini was elected as President of the party. In a nutshell, these two parallel groups — Na-Griamel and the VP — arose to contest foreign domination. Whereas Stephens and Na-Griamel claimed ownership over ancestral land, Lini and the VP demanded outright political independence. Though their movements' aims were not inherently contradictory, mutual suspicion came to divide the staunchly indigenous Stephens from the church-based and Westernized Lini (in the 1970s, the main parties in favor of independence were British-supported and Anglophone, drawing on English and Protestant roots more than on French and Roman Catholic). The VP consolidated the support of the English-speaking Protestants (Presbyterians, Anglican, Church of Christ, Seventh-day Adventist, etc…) and those with an English education. They, the minority, wanted independence for Vanuatu. Against them, on the other hand, were ranged a variety of anti-independence and Francophone factions. They, the majority, were strongly opposed to the UK’s declared aim of early independence for the archipelago. They believed that the New Hebrides was not ready for independence and all the modernization it would bring. In reaction to the formation of the VP, Francophone parties — explicitly representing conservative expatriate interests (such as the Union des Communautés des Nouvelles Hébrides, which was formed circa 1974) — were being formed (a second Francophone party, the Mouvement Autonomiste des Nouvelles Hébrides, also represented settler interests, but nursed separatist ideas and argued for “autonomous status” for the country's regions; on Santo, it found an ally and zealous grassroots support in Na-Griamel). Overall, this Francophone “coalition” became known as the Modérés. Unfortunately, they were a fragmented bunch. Many mixed-race and educated Melanesian Francophones considered themselves more French than Melanesian and were adamantly opposed to the British declared aim of early independence. Some wanted the Anglo-French Condominium (joint administration) to remain as it was, whilst others simply wanted the British out and France to annex the country entirely (either way, they supported greater autonomy for individual islands).
During this tumultuous period, the Na-Griamel Movement became clearly identified with French interests (France was notoriously possessive about its colonies). In a sense, the French administration co-opted Na-Griamel in order to promote anti-independence sentiments and secessionist attempts on Espiritu Santo. The French also incited Jon (John) Frum adherents on Tanna (see below). Na-Griamel had been beating the secessionist drum since the mid-70s and now most of Santo’s French community joined in. Private French interests (settlers, colonists) allied themselves with the colorful and charismatic Stephens. He soon had the encouragement of French-backed anti-VP elements (the Modérés) and French-trained Melanesian maquis (armed resistance fighter) militia/guerilla cells. It is not hard to understand why the French government was not pleased with the way things were developing, now that the popular majority now belonged to the British side of the regime. The influence of the French government was visibly declining. And their rivals, the Anglophones, were sweeping up everything in their path. The French state, unfortunately, simultaneously supported several political groupings that were often at odds with each other. Many documents would later come to light, clearly suggesting that the French administration had played a double game throughout the episode. Whilst officially backing Lini as the duly elected representative of the people of Vanuatu, they had secretly supported Stephens and the secessionists all along. This paperwork revealed the direct culpability of France in its desire to see Espiritu Santo become a separate French colony. By early 1980, the separatist movements threatened to impede the process of Vanuatu’s independence. Threats of secession were being made on Santo and Tanna, but the English and French could not agree on how to react. The UK wanted to respond militarily, but France said non. American speculators in international finance and other Americans with libertarian leanings also commanded some measure of influence over Stephens; this motley assortment of businessmen/investors, surrounded by rumors of chicanery, dreamt of creating a tax-exempt haven for free enterprise and a refuge for unfettered capitalism. Some of them were hoping for a free hand in commercial development. Stephens was actually courted by a number of disparate cliques, many of them right-wing; and he consequently found himself acting as a spokesperson for several projects and schemes, which ranged from turning Santo into a sanctuary for stranded refugees, to developing retirement villages for Vietnam veterans. The most well-known character was Michael J. Oliver (of previous Republic of Minerva fame). He and his Phoenix Foundation became involved with the kastom-oriented movement in 1975 (for more information, see below).
Despite the lack of harmony amongst the Francophones, the independence movement in the New Hebrides kept gathering momentum. Because of the prevailing political climate, Anglo-French collaboration was not always harmonious, but it succeeded, up to the end of the Condominium, in avoiding the worst — namely, a confrontation between islanders espousing different ideologies. Whilst the archipelago was becoming more and more politicized, opportunities for internal conflict were not lacking. By 1974, the accumulated pressures stemming from the stew of political parties helped persuade the British and French governments to enact constitutional reforms, thereby setting up a framework for self-government. Condominium bureaucrats, able to see the writing in the sand by then, conceded to elections. The first elections for a Representative Assembly — it would replace the nominated advisory council under which the New Hebrides had been governed — were held in 1975. It did not take long for dissension to brew. There was the blocking by the disaffected Vanua’aku Party of the operation of the first Representative Assembly. They later boycotted the second Assembly (‘77). They demanded independence. Being absent from the Assembly, the VP then set up its “People's Provisional Government”, which controlled areas in the islands where its adherents were in the majority. These areas were excluded from the authority of the legal Government, and the latter's representatives were denied access to them, and its legislation was not enforced. It was, in effect, a secession. Throughout the islands, but especially near Lini's home in the north, traditional chiefs began to join with young politicians in shirts and trousers to raise the new flag of the Provisional Government. The Provisional Government had a greater effect on the lives of some rural islanders than the centrally located Condominium had ever exerted. Building on linkages in the Presbyterian and Anglican churches, in some areas VP supporters organized and administered a pass system, implemented their own village codes of law, and occupied plantations claimed by European settlers. The Condominium government had neither the wherewithal nor the will to counter the Provisional Government effectively. Eventually, after some negotiations, the VP gained enough concessions to dissolve the People's Provisional Government and to participate in an interim Government of National Unity — established in December of 1978. Half of its Ministers were Modérés and half were VP (headed by a Francophone Catholic priest named Gérard Leymang). Shaping a Government of National Unity out of diverse Anglophone and Francophone interests was another challenge. As we have seen, the British and French had introduced a measure of self-determination to the colony, but there was still unrest. In response, at a 1977 conference in Paris (attended by British, French, and New Hebrides representatives), the formal details for full independence were agreed upon. The Condominium authorities had agreed to hold the country’s first general election, scheduled for November of 1979 (a new constitution would also be drawn up that year).
Meanwhile, as the VP's strongly nationalist platform gained growing support, Stephens (who had been taken to Paris and introduced to President Giscard d’Estaing in an attempt to gain his support) began agitating for Britain to leave the islands. Na-Griamel’s following dwindled, and its alliance with one of the Francophone parties achieved only two seats in the new Assembly, compared with 17 for the VP. Stephens, claiming electoral irregularities and supported by French and American business interests, led a large protest rally on December 27, 1975. During this event, he announced the imminent independence of the northern islands (Aoba, Maewo, Banks, Torres, and Espiritu Santo) as the Na-Griamel Federation (the league would eventually consist of 15 islands). Almost immediately (according to one source) his alliance partnership dissolved, and Stephens was obliged to yield before the paramilitary police forces sent by the Condominium administration. By 1977, the reviled status-quo had been re-established.
Finally, the day of the general elections arrived. Sadly, when all the votes were tallied, it became evident that Stephens had not been successful in competing with the dominant Anglophone-backed Vanua'aku Party. After enough wrangling and accusations to fill several books, the VP emerged as the clear winner (they won 62% of the vote, obtaining twenty-six of the thirty-nine seats) over the Modérés, who were (as usual) divided between rival factions, and also between those who came from the north, center and south of the colony. Father Lini, who was the Anglo-centric head of the VP, was elected to take office as the colony’s Chief Minister (he later ascended to the position of Prime Minister upon Vanuatu's independence in 1980). The road to democracy was not easy, however. Being the winner did not mean everyone agreed. It should be remembered that with between 105-115 local/distinct languages, the archipelago is one of the most culturally diverse countries on earth. Trying to govern it had given the Condominium more grief than it could have imagined. With virtually no preparation for Independence under the British/French rule, Lini was not going to have an easy time of it. He basically formed a one-party Government, and aroused considerable apprehension among the Francophones, both by his refusal to enter any dialogue with the parliamentary opposition and by his ill-conceived or sectarian actions. Riots and demonstrations ensued. Clearly, the victors were extremely unpopular in some areas, as evidenced by Stephens’s push for Santo autonomy (with Malekula and Tanna making similar overtures). Within days, Stephens claimed that the elections had a fraudulent outcome, perpetrated by British officials. For weeks, and then months, there was no government response. Finally, Stephens approached Lini about the matter, and he replied that it was out of hands, claiming that the files had been handed over to the colonial powers, who had then transferred them to London and Paris for consideration. With the proposed independence only months away, Jimmy Stephens flew to Europe once again, only to discover that Lini's claims were blatant falsehoods. No files detailing the electoral fraud had ever been presented to the colonial masters. Infuriated by the treachery, he returned to Santo whilst his representatives flew for talks at the United Nations. The people of Santo had been betrayed. Fresh elections were called for and were refused. Negotiations on the question of autonomy (under a central government) were demanded and initiated, but delayed by government tactics. Their attempts to negotiate in order to avoid conflicts — as dictated by kastom — had failed. Lack of support for Na-Griamel in the 1979 elections probably reflected spreading disillusion with Stephens's political compromises, because he made outlandish concessions to the Phoenix Foundation and other foreign (even sinister-looking) business interests. In being succored by outside manipulators who provided passports and equipment for Stephens to establish a secessionist state, it was the eventual fate of the Na-Griamel Movement to meet armed resistance. As independence approached, the Na-Griamel supporters lived in a state of quasi-separation on Tanafo.
Na-Griamel's next move on the national stage was a more serious secession attempt in 1980, after the VP had triumphed in the national elections of November 1979 (Na-Griamel's only success in the elections was to secure 50.59 per cent of the rural Santo vote). Refusing to accept the validity of their electoral losses on Santo, Stephens organized partisans into two assaults on Luganville (the main urban center). The second incident took place on the evening of May 28th, when Stephens’s militant “warriors” occupied and seized control of Luganville and ousted the legal government representatives from the island of Espiritu Santo. Armed only with bows and arrows and nulla-nullas, they peacefully captured the small and virtually unarmed British police station (and/or administrative offices). The kastom rebels stormed the building and took captive the police, who were virtually unarmed. Afterwards, the natives re-boarded their buses and headed east to the “British Paddock” (which housed the native government employees). They surrounded the houses, and the resident police fired gas grenades blindly into the darkness. The rebels then pounced upon the houses and smashed the buildings until the occupants ran off into the night. The damage was only superficial, consisting of a few broken windows. During the rebellion, the natives had only one intention — to frighten the government employees into running away and leaving the island. They purportedly also blockaded the airport. In the rebellion’s aftermath, the secessionists hoisted the flag and formally proclaimed the Independent State of Vemarana (which was part of the Na-Griamel Federation; it is often referred to as the Republic of Vemerana — note the different spelling; other variants include Venerama, Vemerama, Veamarana) on June 1st, 1980. At some point, passports and coins emblazoned with the republic’s emblem soon arrived from the United States through the good graces of Michael Oliver and the Phoenix Foundation, which also drew up a constitution for the free-enterprise, multi-ethnic republic. The French police did nothing to prevent the rebellion and expulsion of VP followers from the island. In response to the coup, the newly-appointed Chief Minister imposed a total blockade upon Santo. This tiny island was totally cut off — completely isolated from the outside world. On Radio Vanuatu, Lini urged all Australians, New Zealanders, British subjects and native government supporters to leave their homes, properties and possessions and depart the island. Stephens also had things to say. He made an announcement on Radio Vemarana, his “subversive” clandestine/rebel/pirate station in Tanafo (paid for and supplied by the American millionaires; it replaced Radio Tanafo, a radio venture with which Stephens had been involved in 1976): “This is the voice of freedom and liberty, protected and defended by the Na-Griamel Federation Independent Government in Tanafo, Santo, New Hebrides. This is the broadcasting service located approximately 25° latitude south and 168° longitude west, Planet Earth or Urantia, on the edge of the Milky Way cluster of stars. Today Vemarana is born. Santo people put the name and Santo people are working in the office. Come and join Vemarana no matter what race you belong to, join hand in hand to help take Vemarana government out of the land of Vanuatu Government.” The June 16, 1980 issue of Time magazine contained a small article about the situation in the New Hebrides. It stated that Stephens was 58 years old and that he “drove bulldozers before emerging as a separatist leader of Espiritu Santo. ‘Moli’ (chief), as his supporters call Stevens, was elected Chief Minister of Vemarana after the takeover. Holding court in a former dance school that now bears the pidgin-English sign VEMARANA OFIS, he told TIME Correspondent John Dunn: ‘Time is not important here. We will be open for business in a few days. We want to be free to make our own decisions, to run our own economy and have a picnic when we feel like having one.’ If Stevens has charisma, he also has an unusual outside sponsor in Michael Oliver, 51, an American real estate developer, coin dealer and fervent antiCommunist…Last week at his home in Carson City, Nev., Oliver welcomed the minicoup. Eventually he hopes to move to Santo, where he plans to operate a 2,000-acre sugar plantation. ‘The islanders want development,’ he says. ‘They want electricity and roads and jobs. They don't want to live in the bush with the mosquitoes. There's no such thing as the noble savage.’”
If pandemonium was thought to exist during the Condominium, then it reigned sovereign for the next few weeks (according to some sources, French officials actually blocked attempts to use police to restore control). In spite of Lini's fear-provoking propaganda on Vanuatu's official radio station, other islands soon seceded and merged with them that month, such as the N'Makiaute separatists on Malekula Island. Lini, who had few options until New Hebrideans became free of the Anglo-French Condominium, was truly unprepared for all the chaos. He was given virtually no support from the exiting colonial powers, except verbal sympathy and assurances that all would be taken care of. With Independence Day fast approaching, Lini was clearly at a political impasse. Officially he could do nothing because Vanuatu was not yet his to govern. In response to the coup, Lini requested assistance from politically and racially neutral Papua New Guinea. His government was able to secure their support, but they would send soldiers, if need be, only after independence — due on July 30. With no action being taken by Port Vila (the capital), the Vemarana government soldiered on with encouragement from its diverse supporters. Stephens’s men held the about-to-be-born country to virtual ransom. Despite requests from Lini, the Condominium authorities refused to send troops to suppress the revolt. Desperate to retain some semblance of control over the situation, France asked the UK to consider postponing the now imminent independence. This proposal was vigorously rejected. Meanwhile, several Frenchmen from Nouméa arrived in Luganville to give aid to the new government, which by now had appointed a cabinet. In July, Lini again asked for action by France and Britain, and the South Pacific Forum (an inter-governmental organization which aims to enhance cooperation between the independent countries of the Pacific Ocean and represent their interests) — they supported the VP and the independence of the New Hebrides — called for the rebellion to be crushed. Finally, France and Britain agreed to dispatch a small joint military force of several hundred soldiers to restore law and order on Santo. These Franco-British troops arrived on schedule and indeed received a warm welcome from the local population. But in the eleventh hour, the colonial authorities' late response was ineffective in suppressing the struggle. At this point, the Anglo-French commandos had no power of arrest and failed even to prevent looting. The Vemarana flag continued to fly over Santo, however, even as the momentous day arrived and the Republic of Vanuatu was proclaimed throughout the archipelago. The natives were free of the colonial yoke. The vast majority of French nationals left the archipelago and they were compensated by their lost lands by the French government; land ownership on the archipelago reverted entirely to indigenous ni-Vanuatu. Incidentally, leaders of the Vanua’aku Party invented the term “Vanuatu” in 1980 to replace the colonial name: Vanua means “land” in many of Vanuatu’s languages, and translations of the new name — which is an important aspect of national identity — include “Our Land”, “Abiding Land”, and “Our Land Forever”.
The Condominium had finally come to an end, but French and British troops remained in Santo until the middle of August, when the 450 troops from Papua New Guinea (transported by Australian military aircraft) were finally able to lend Lini a hand. They replaced the Anglo-French troops and quickly began restoring order in Luganville while going after the secessionist ringleaders. The Papua New Guinean troops also stormed the secluded Na-Griamel headquarters/compound at Tanafo village. Only with this logistical support was the fledgling Vanuatu government able to quash the revolutionary insurrection, which was farcically dubbed “The Coconut War” by the press. The war ended suddenly when one of Stephens’s sons was shot and killed as he sat in the rear of a utility vehicle that ran through a roadblock of Papua New Guinean troops. I have also read that he died because of a grenade. Apparently, he was the only fatality of the rebellion, but there were many injuries. Following Stephens’s statement that he had never meant for anyone to be harmed during the uprising, the tribal leader surrendered and was arrested. Many other secessionists and “subversive” supporters were also arrested and imprisoned. Hundreds of expatriate supporters were expelled, weakening the credibility of various Francophone and kastom opposition groups, and causing a significant setback to the economic development of Santo. For his “treason”, Stephens was sentenced to 14½ years in jail. But in August of 1991, after ten years of incarceration, he was released from prison early by the Vanuatu government. According to Mr. William F. S. Miles, “Stevens still had four and a half years to serve on his sentence, but he was ailing. The very same government leader who had originally called for Stevens' conviction now summoned him, still in his prison blues, to explain the terms of his release. Among other stipulations,” Prime Minister Lini “intimated that he expected Jimmy to deliver over twenty pigs. Responding to Jimmy's protests that he did not have the means to gather such a large quantity of swine on his own, the official promised to provide government assistance so that Jimmy's son could do so. Stevens was more than happy to comply with this arrangement”. Miles explains the importance of swine to the ni-Vanuatu: “Pigs have long held great symbolic import for the people of Vanuatu…In most of the indigenous, small-scale communities which comprised traditional Vanuatu society, pig ownership conveyed status, wealth, and informal power. In a subsistence, cashless society, pigs were the sole medium by which social significance was measured. Culture contact in Melanesia throughout the last 150 years greatly eroded much of indigenous custom, however, and money, often tied to politics, increasingly came to supplant pig ownership as the relevant index of wealth and power. Nevertheless, as the above compact between Vanuatu's prime minister and his erstwhile nemesis underscores, pigs still possess significant political capital, even to the point of facilitating national reconciliation between ardent unionists and former secessionists.”
Stephens died on February 28, 1994. Though unschooled, “President Moly” — as Stephens was also known — was, according to Robert Schnell (who was an announcer on Radio Vemarana in 1980; the station was closed down on August 19th, when the Papua New Guinea defense forces captured the transmitter), “a brilliant, but humble man with charisma that caused the sun to hide behind the clouds when he spoke.” One of his sons, Frankie Stephens (Chief Frankie Moli Sakene), keeps the Na-Griamel Movement active today. Na-Griamel may have been militarily defeated long ago, but many of its sentiments have endured.
A man named Cutch Mwake (he referred to himself as the Deputy President of Na-Griamel) provides a bit of information about Stephens’s origins: “When he was born, he grew up in an environment with no sense of belonging. You know, he was just wandering around until he remembered his mother because he was born in South Santo under a nabagura tree.” Though Stephens was born in a humble environment, many people believe “that Moli grew up with a purpose, to lead the Nagriamel Movement. Moli’s mother was called Sera and she was from the Banks and his father was called Steven Oliver. Moli’s family tree goes as far as Tonga where Americans had married Tongan women and settled in Tonga. Their children, one of them Steven Oliver, came and settled in South Santo and became citizen of South Santo. This is how Steven Oliver met Serah of the Banks and Jimmy Moli Steven was born.” He also explains the meaningful handshake depicted on the flag of Na-Griamel: “The white hand represents Moli and the black represents Chief Paul Buluk. During World War 2, Buluk’s name was Turu. It was the Americans who called him Buluk and when he was baptised in the river by the Churches of Christ people, they called him Paul.” Mwake explains why the pair of hands are depicted: “The flag was designed that way deliberately to confirm their agreement for the nagaria and namele leaves to be used by the Movement and to let their hands fly high on the flag to send a message to the two British and French Resident Commissioners who signed their agreement underneath the table. They made sure that we the indigenous people did not know about it when they signed the protocol in Port Vila to rule the islands in 1906 without any consultation with the indigenous New Hebridean population and implemented it in 1914. Their handshake on the flag was necessary for the two governments and people to know that they voted on August 10 for Nagriamel to form. Buluk represents us black people and Moli represents white people because a white man had an affair with his mother and Moli was born.” He also states that it was Stephens who mandated that the namele and nagaria leaves be used on the Na-Griamel flag because “they also play the same cultural value in Santo as they play in other islands. In fact when the leaders of the Movement were barred from meeting in Luganville, they were already walking around with the namele and nagaria leaves but the group did not have the name Nagriamel until it was formally agreed to…I know the meaning of the star and the stripes on the flag but it is Moli’s secret”. Apparently, Stephens and Mwake were very close friends: “Jimmy asked me to compose a song about his mother because he said he loved his mother.” The song became “the flag raising song, also the Nagriamel Anthem.” Mwake also states that there was to have been a “Nagriamel Bank” at Tanafo; the concrete foundation was erected, but there was not enough money to complete the building.
As a further example of how volatile that decade was in the New Hebrides, I should mention that a contemporaneous revolt took place on the nearby island of Tanna. A home-grown “cargo cult” (a movement attempting to obtain the manufactured goods — “cargo” — and material wealth of non-native cultures through magical thinking as well as religious rituals and practices), called the Jon Frum movement, emerged there in 1940, blossoming during the Pacific war. By the end of WWII there were three major parties on Tanna: Presbyterians, kastom people, and Jon Frum worshippers. In the early 1970s as the call for national independence grew louder, Tanna became highly politicized (it seems as though attempts at Tannese secession began circa 1974). Jon Frum supporters and a Tannese kastom group called Kapiel allied themselves in 1979 with the secessionist Na-Griamel group in Santo and the Modérés in the rest of New Hebrides. The insurrection on Tanna split the island in two. One faction supported the new government while the other supported the French. Galvanized into action by the Santo rebellion of late May (just a few weeks prior to the end of Condominium rule), Tannese Modérés struck. They seized two British government staff, who were freed by police action two days later. Although many rebel Modérés were arrested, many Protestant islanders, fearing a civil war, hid in caves, or in Tanna's thick bush. On 10 June 1980, 300 Modérés attacked Isangel where their friends were being held prisoner. In the ensuing shoot-out a Modéré leader was killed. Arrests were made and the Tannese insurrection fizzled out soon afterwards. According to another source, the Kappiel Alliance established the Republic of Tafea/Tafean Nation on Tanna from January to May of 1980.
I procured the silver “Individual Rights For All” 1 Na-Griamel, from Mr. Steven Tureen, a fellow eBayer. It was issued by the Na-Griamel Federation Bank in 1976. Thanks to Mr. David van Gent, I've been made aware that there is also a 14-karat gold (1 Troy ounce) 20 Na-Griamels coin, also dated 1976. As soon as I learned about the connection between Michael Oliver and Jimmy Stephens, there was no doubt in my mind that Oliver was responsible for producing the coinage of Na-Griamel, just as he had done for Minerva.
Long after I composed this listing, I decided that it would be interesting to include a fuller portrait of Michael J. Oliver (simply from a numismatic point of view, he made an admirable contribution to our hobby by issuing two coins of excellent quality). To begin with, Erwin S. Strauss — in How to Start Your Own Country — summarizes all of Oliver’s nation-building efforts. “The activities of Oliver are one of the most involved chapters in the new-country annals. A native of Lithuania born in 1929, his early training was in engineering. He is reported to have survived German prison camps in World War II, and then emigrated to the United States in 1947. He appears to have prospered at first as a coin dealer, and later as a real-estate developer in Nevada. His personal fortune seems to have provided most of the money behind the many new-country ventures in which he participated. His vision of a new country is one fairly similar to the United States, with emphasis on laissez-faire economics. Middle class social and cultural values prevail in his A New Constitution for a New Country…and other writings”. Oliver “sees no plantations with a few owners overseeing large numbers of field hands; nor does he envision a hideaway for the rich…nor is he interested in a gambling-oriented tourist resort. A strong streak of explicit anti-Communism also runs throughout his activities.” Oliver’s “first venture was aimed at the Turks and Caicos Islands in the Caribbean.” Unfortunately, “the British were thinking in terms of a traditional freeport, rather than actually ceding sovereignty.” One of Oliver’s associates seems to have sabotaged the entire venture by attempting to convince the British that the Turks and Caicos should be home to “a tourist-oriented gambling resort.” Oliver eventually expelled that associate from his association. Another member of Oliver’s group “said he had been attracted to Oliver by promises that he would be set up in a lucrative coin business as an associate of Oliver, but became disenchanted when this help did not materialize.” In the end, “all negotiations for the Turks and Caicos appear to have fizzled.” It was then that Oliver’s attention turned to the New Hebrides for the first time. The situation there led him “to believe the situation was promising for obtaining independent sovereignty over some part of the [chain of islands]. The negotiations went nowhere, and eventually he moved on. However, like General MacArthur in the nearby Philippines a third of a century earlier, he was fated to return for what was to be perhaps his finest hour.”
Oliver’s “next target was the Minerva Reefs, 260 miles northeast of the Kingdom of Tonga.” These natural formations were regarded mainly as a hazard to navigation until Oliver arrived on the scene in the South Pacific. In May of 1972, he hired a dredging ship from Australia to begin filling in the two reefs with tons of sand. “The idea was to build up land 8 feet above the high water mark at a rate of 5 days per acre, until 15 acres (evenly divided between the two atolls that composed the reef) had been built up. Each acre was reported to require 15,000 cubic yards of sand. Ultimately, 2,500 acres were to be built up in that manner, 2,000 for residential development and 500 for commercial uses. The existence of the initial 15 acres was to be used to convince additional investors to finance the remaining 2,485 acres. The dredging apparently continued for almost half a year, exhausting the approximately $200,000 capital available.” Elsewhere, I’ve read that he planned to build a resort named Sea City. He hoped Minerva would one day attract a population of 30,000 residents, who would have “no taxation, welfare, subsidies, or any form of economic interventionism.” Oliver proclaimed the independence of the Republic of Minerva, but investors showed little interest. After all, the surface of the nascent nation was completely submerged more than a meter underwater at high tide and there was nothing standing there except a small stone platform that jutted through the waves. The story of this micro-state came to an end when the monarch of Tonga (King Taufa’ahau Tupou IV) and his men invaded and annexed Minerva even though it clearly lay outside of Tongan territorial waters. “Then they went home. Apparently, the winds and tides did their inexorable work, and the land eventually sank beneath the waves once more.” According to Mike Parsons (see below), “Two thousand Americans were lured into supporting the planned seizure of the reef and the creation of a taxless utopian state where free enterprise and ‘rugged individualism’ would mostly substitute for government. The venture was organised by Michael Oliver's Ocean Life Research Foundation. In a characteristic statement of principle, the ‘President of Minerva,’ Morris Davis, declared at the time: ‘People will be free to do as they damn well please. Nothing will be illegal so long it does not infringe on the rights of others. If a citizen wishes to open a tavern, set up gambling or make pornographic films, the government will not interfere.’ The personal intervention of the King of Tonga made the republic shortlived, but Davis's statement attracted the twilight zone of capitalism to Oliver's cause. They included ex-CIA, OSS, SAS and FBI agents, soldiers of fortune, tax-dodge lawyers and tax-haven specialists, arms dealers, drug traffickers, mafiosi and straight-out hustlers. It was this shadowy world which now enveloped Oliver.” The Republic of Minerva issued a silver/gold “Thirty Five Minerva Dollars” coin, dated 1973 (it can be viewed at http://www.imperial-collection.net/minerva.html). According to Strauss, “The most lasting part of this venture has been the coins that were minted as a promotional and fund-raising activity…This bimetallic standard was to have been the basis of the Minervan currency.” I won’t go into any further detail about Minerva and its coin; there is already tons of information readily available on the Internet. “This episode illustrates once again the folly of attempting to exercise sovereignty over some land — even land that you have created yourself — without the muscle to make it stick.”
After Minerva, it seemed as though the tycoon decided to no longer try to create his own micro-nation from scratch. He settled upon a new approach. “From this point onward,” according to Strauss, “Oliver adopted a policy of working with minorities in existing nations. He would approach the dissidents — encouraging their secessionist inclinations, and urging that a constitution be adopted that was vigorously pro-free-enterprise. This, he indicated, would make the place attractive for outside investors, whom he implied he had the contacts to produce. Such dissidents usually had no reason to sign off on such constitutions. Naturally, if and when they ever achieved effective sovereignty over their territory, the great powers would be only happy to deal with them, and could easily outbid (with grants-in-aid, favored trade status, weapons, and so on) any private investors. But Oliver seemed unwilling or unable to face such facts, and of course the dissident groups he dealt with had no reason to raise the subject. For their part, the dissidents seemed unwilling or unable to realize that Oliver was a lone operator, and couldn’t produce any significant investment beyond his own. But then, if they were only making a mouse-that-roared gesture to get a better deal from the existing authorities…[then] this wasn’t a problem for them.”
Following the Minerva debacle, an undaunted Oliver aided a separatist movement on the Abaco Islands (an archipelago chain in the northern Bahamas comprised of about 120 islands and cays; the two main islands are Great Abaco and Little Abaco). Its population is divided between West Indian blacks, and white descendants of English settlers. In 1973, many whites on Abaco opposed the independence of the Bahamas from the United Kingdom, attempting to retain colonial status under the British crown. It is unclear whether these Bahamians were motivated by a sentimental attachment to the Empire, or whether they were unsettled by the prospect of government by blacks from Nassau. In June, a month before independence, the Abaco whites gained the financial support of Oliver, who hoped to turn Abaco into a libertarian enclave where he could profit from a market free of all government intervention (and taxation). Oliver bankrolled a newspaper and organized a militia, which he planned to fly to the U.S. state of Georgia for military training by Chuck Hall, who supported the Abaconian whites for less savory reasons. Hall backed out at the last moment, however, and the Abaconian revolution ran out of steam and Oliver’s project collapsed. Pretty much all that Strauss has to say about this episode is: “The dissidents proclaimed their independence, and happily accepted Oliver’s overtures. Eventually, he and his associates were prohibited to enter the Bahamas (including Abaco) by the Bahamian authorities in Nassau. Eventually, Abaco, Nassau and London came to some sort of terms, and interest in secession waned. There were rumored to be a half million ‘Hands Off Abaco’ bumper stickers in a warehouse in southern Florida in the wake of this project.” According to Mike Parsons (see below), in 1973 Oliver “formed a plan to foster a revolution on the island of Abaco…as a means of creating his libertarian nirvana. His chief aide was Mitchell Livingston Webell [actually Werbell], OSS veteran of Indochina, millionaire firearms tycoon, head of Military Armaments Corporation (MAC), trainer of mercenary armies and inventor of the best muzzle silencer for the world's deadliest hand-gun — the Ingram ME machine gun pistol capable of firing 14 shots a second, weighting about 1.5 kilograms and costing less than $100. From MAC, naturally. After a year's propaganda amongst discontented Abaconians, involving the issuing of land share certificates and the smuggling in of radios and arms by plane, the plot was foiled by the independent Bahamas government. Webell himself was on the run, having been indicted on a drugs charge in the US.” According to R.T. Naylor (see below), “From his South Pacific experience, Oliver had learned an important lesson: there is no point declaring independence without the muscle to back it up. Hence he called on Mitchell Werbell III, an ex-CIA agent, gunrunner, and trainer of mercenaries, for assistance. Werbell was to arm a local force to spearhead the drive to independence.” This “army” was to have been strong enough to easily overwhelm any defense force that the Prime Minister of the Bahamas could’ve mobilized at the time. “In preparation, conferences were held on the islands to preach libertarian philosophy. But Werbell himself was arrested on charges he had attempted to sell machine guns to Robert Vesco [in Costa Rica] to further that founding father's own schemes.” These weapons were purportedly connected to the Phoenix Foundation (though it is unclear if the Foundation itself knew what type of shenanigans Werbell was up to in this particular instance). “Torn by internal dissension, the Abaco Independence Movement died of its own accord a few years later.” The lack of success on Abaco did not stop Oliver from seeking out new governments that might be sympathetic to his libertarian cause.
Interestingly, at around the same time as Abaco, Strauss writes that “Oliver was announcing plans for a shipboard community on board a luxury liner. This seems to me to be the soundest proposition he has put forward; but he doesn’t appear to have followed up on it.”
Down but not out, Oliver re-focused his efforts back on the New Hebrides. Strauss states that Jimmy Stephens was a heavy-equipment operator and that he was born in 1923. “At this point, Oliver had recouped his finances somewhat after Minerva, and had brought together a new group of supporters under the aegis of the Phoenix Foundation (an appropriate name, considering the up-and-down nature of his ventures). This was a tax-free outfit based in Holland, whose supporters included a number of persons prominent in the Libertarian Party in the United States, a group that was polling around 1% of the vote in presidential elections in the period from 1972 to 1980. These included the Party’s 1972 Presidential candidate John Hospers, a professor of philosophy at the University of Southern California. Also affiliated with the Phoenix Foundation was Harry D. Schulz, a noted doom-and-gloom economic commentator. Schulz would have certainly tended to give the group financial credibility, though it is not clear whether he ever provided any significant amount of capital. Another trustee was Nathaniel Branden, a psychologist and the principal protege of Ayn Rand until the 1960’s. Less publicized, a commodities broker with a checkered past was involved, perhaps as a source of financing. However, this individual spent most of the critical period in prison in connection with some alleged commodities swindle. Na-Griamel issued a constitution with the clear Oliver imprint; and Stevens was flown to the United States to make an appeal to the United Nations, which refused to recognize him. There were rumors about the starting of a national airline, and about the establishment of an international communications link via satellite. After a while, however, the sound and fury subsided, some kind of accommodation apparently having been reached with the authorities in Vila, London and Paris.” Strauss then goes on to briefly describe the political upheaval in the archipelago, and he also makes passing mention of the Na-Griamel coinage: “The rebels put a radio station into operation, and gold coins and passports were issued.” There were apparently 200-800 rebels. “Oliver claimed credit for having organized the revolt, on the basis of having been in touch with Stevens for ten years (since his earlier, abortive New Hebrides venture), but admitted that he had not had contact since the revolt actually began. Up until then, he is reported to have spent $130,000 on medical supplies and for transportation of Stevens and his people to the United States (for consultations and diplomatic efforts). The United States government, when the British asked for moral support, obliged by saying that they would see to it that Oliver and his people did not violate the United States neutrality laws…Meanwhile, the Phoenix Foundation back in Holland put out an appeal for funds, listing its own address (Box 5085, 1007 AB Amsterdam, The Netherlands) and that of the Vemerana Development Corporation Trust (Box 8666, Panama 5, Republic of Panama). Copies of the Vemerana…constitution were also offered for sale for $12. This is a book, Blueprint for a New Nation, published by a vanity press in New York, and authored by a Dutch economist born in 1946. He has been a leading promoter of gold-backed currency, and serves as Secretary of the Phoenix Foundation. In September of 1980, the Phoenix Foundation put out another newsletter reporting the defeat of the Vemerana movement, and the capture of its leaders…During the Vemerana affair, the Foundation had split with Oliver, apparently because he was inclined to take a hard line and clandestinely supply them with arms, while the other Foundation principals were prepared only to urge some form of investment ‘as soon as there is no further military threat’ (this written before the collapse of Vemerana). This was like a bank saying they would lend you money you needed, as long as you could prove you didn’t need it any more.”
Apparently, in that same newsletter, “the Foundation also reported contact with independence-minded people on the Isle of Man…They had also been in touch with people in the Azores Islands of Portugal who had been interested in independence around the time that the Portuguese dictator Salazar died, when Portugal began drifting rapidly to the political left. As that country stabilized, however, the independence fever cooled…The newsletter ends with a plea for South Africa, and for $75 contributions to the Foundation.” Strauss then offers some concluding thoughts on Oliver’s involvement with Na-Griamel/Vemarana: “The new-country promoters of the Phoenix Foundation (including Michael J. Oliver) were merely a footnote, and had no real influence in affairs. However, they were attractive to the media (especially in the United States, since Oliver and his people were the only Americans involved). One American who has closely followed the operation [Sarah Foster] cited a lack of familiarity with the nuances of the local situation (who was lunching with whom, etc.) as a reason for the new country’s failure. That seems to be an understatement: knowledge of the local situation would have made it obvious that there was no significant role to be played by any libertarian new-country promoters with no more than one or two hundred thousand dollars to play with. Meanwhile, the central government, going under the name of Vanuatu, has apparently found significant acceptance as a tax haven, even attracting the astute operators of Hong Kong. This points up the irrelevance of espoused libertarian principles to success in this sort of operation. The principle seems to be ‘better a scoundrel than a fool.’ People would rather deal with a scoundrel on whose firm grasp on his own self-interest they feel they can rely, than with (what they see as) a bunch of starry-eyed idealists who may go off the deep end at any moment on some Quixotic quest.”
According to an article by Mike Parsons published in issue 101 (July, 1981) of the New Internationalist (http://www.newint.org/issue101/phoenix.htm), the “Organisers of the Phoenix Foundation first adopted the name in June 1975. At that time there were three trustees, all of whom equated human freedom with laissez faire capitalism. They were obsessed with transforming this ideal into a real life sovereign state. They were Michael Oliver, a Nevada real estate millionaire and author of New Constitution for a New Country written in 1968; his friend James Murt KcKeever, and Harry D. Schultz, at $2000 an hour the world's highest paid investment adviser. Both McKeever and Schultz publish newsletters advising subscribers on the best ways to avoid taxes, dodge laws and make big profits. All three believe fanatically in gold-based monetarist economics. Of the three, the most respectable and powerful is Schultz. Readers of his International Harry Schultz Letter include Margaret Thatcher, her adviser Sir Keith Joseph, South African Finance Minister Owen Horwood and Saudi Arabian oil minister Sheik Yamani. In 1980 Phoenix declared that much of its efforts were now being directed toward helping small countries striving for independence. It talked of those countries whose leaders are ‘farsighted enough to recognise the threat of socialism/communism, and who sincerely want to build their country around the individual instead of creating a monolithic government. Surprisingly, there are several such embryonic potential nations around the world. And for all their spunk, they are having a tough struggle to repel the advances of marauders, for example, neocolonialists like Russia who care not a fiddle for basic human rights. We in Phoenix are actively giving these countries the encouragement, support, physical and technical advice they require.’” Parsons then recounts Oliver’s earlier projects, and points out some similarities between the two bodies of water where Oliver spent much of his time and energy. “Like the Caribbean, the Pacific is full of small island states burdened by colonialism, illiteracy and a near absence of natural resources. In the past, the two regions were havens for slave traders, smugglers, swindlers and scoundrels. Today they are tax-havens. Vanuatu (then the New Hebrides) became a tax haven in 1971. The same year Michael Oliver bought 4000 hectares of land there and met Jimmy Stevens. His Abaco plans having failed, he decided to renew his association with this cult leader. A Euro-Melanesian and self-styled traditional leader on Espiritu Santo, Stevens had founded the Nagriamel movement in the early sixties to resist European encroachment on Melanesian land. Jimmy Stevens had asked for independence for the New Hebrides in 1968. In 1969 Michael Oliver persuaded him to settle for Santo only and go it alone. Vanuatu's first national election was in 1975. It found Oliver, McKeever, Dr David Williams, the Republic of Minerva's minister of the interior, and his son, a seaplane pilot, all flying around campaigning for Nagriamel and for Santo's independence.” Parsons provides some fascinating details about what truly took place behind the scenes. “On December 27, 1975, Nagriamel was transformed into the ‘Nagriamel Federation’ at a rally and march through Santo town. This was visibly orchestrated by Phoenix Foundation personnel. At the rally, Stevens declared all members of the Nagriamel Federation would be issued with ‘land share certificates.’ For their part, Oliver and McKeever were declared prohibited immigrants by the British. Subsequently Jimmy Stevens was flown by Phoenix to the United Nations, passing through Oliver's home town and returning to Santo with specially minted gold coins and Nagriamel Federation passports and flags. The ‘new nation’ was hailed by Harry Schultz in the New Zealand Herald as the ‘Switzerland of the Pacific.’ Liaison with the Nagriamel Federation was achieved through an Australian educated Fijian chief, Ratu Osea Gavidi, who flew a Phoenix plane from Fiji to Santo which allegedly smuggled arms and radio equipment. The plane was later grounded by Fiji authorities. In 1979 the British and French promised the New Hebrides new elections and independence. In Australia Phoenix began to move. Richard King, vice president of the Republic of Minerva — involved in an incident in which a rescue ship for Indochinese boat people was revealed to be fitted with sophisticated electronic surveillance equipment and staffed by soldiers of fortune — brought Jimmy Stevens to Australia. Stevens' object was to promote Australian investment in the future independent Santo state. He also announced a bizarre plan to resettle 1000 Indochinese refugees on the island of Maevo, east of Santo. Maevo, also called Aurora, was then the object of a plan by the Hawaii based Aurora Corporation of L.N. Nevels Jr to create a libertarian state identical to that envisaged by Phoenix. The elections of November 1979 saw a total defeat for Nagriamel and disparate opposition elements ironically calling themselves the ‘moderates.’ As independence approached in 1980 these now regrouped in Santo and called for secession. Jimmy Stevens once again flew to America and came back with Thomas Eck a Phoenix lawyer, from Carson City. The moderates declared the new state of Vemerana on Santo, kidnapping the district commissioner and forcing 2000 government supporters to leave the island. With French and British troops standing by the rebels were free to plunder and pillage Santo businesses and warehouses and dynamite houses, bridges and the country's sole copra mill. The government of Anglican Father Walter Lini was powerless to intervene until independence was granted on July 30. He then kicked out the colonial troops and brought in Papua New Guinea troops to quell the rebellion and restore order. The Vemerana Development Corporation Trust Fund, set up by Phoenix in Panama, however, continued to solicit funds for the movement.” After “fomenting the rebellion” for 5 years, the Phoenix Foundation “had spent, by its own reckoning, more than $250,000 supplying weapons, transport and radio equipment to the movement.” Parsons sums up Oliver’s efforts: “Big money, backed by some of the toughest soldiers of economic fortune” ultimately could not take control of the remote Pacific island. “Soldiers from Papua New Guinea joined the government of Vanuatu in the first-ever show of military support between Islands nations. The shadowy Phoenix Foundation, champion of extreme monetarism, is still licking its wounds.” Parsons then provides some details about what happened to the Phoenix Foundation after the events on Vanuatu. “Previously headquartered in Amsterdam to escape US prosecution, Phoenix's new front man was Dutch gold dealer Robert J. Doorn, author of the 1980 book Blueprint for a New Nation: The Structure of the Nagriamel Federation. Based on Oliver's earlier work, this was basically a ‘free enterprise constitution’ in which even the right to vote had to be purchased. The foreword to the book was written by Harry Schultz. In October last year the Australian press reported that ‘gold guru’ Harry Schultz was to set up a permanent base in Sydney. Schultz — now Sir Harry Schultz, the title having been bestowed upon him by the tiny taxless state of Leichtenstein — has recently broadened his role as a ‘tipster on currencies, broking precious metals, commodities and tax havens’ by turning strategist and warning the West of the dire consequence unless it get tough with the Soviet Union and immediately embark on a massive arms ‘spending spree.’ Such a spree would obviously not be bad for business for the MAC. In December last year rumours abounded in Fiji that Phoenix was behind on American pine forest exploitation deal that by-passed government channels and negotiated directly with landowners through middleman Ratu Osea Gavidi. Fiji's South Pacific Islands Business News commented: ‘The situation that exists with Fiji's pine is made to order for the untrammelled free enterprise and the elimination of all government interference in business realised through the persuasion of breakaway local groups such as that on Santo.’ The fact that the deal involved a shadowy concern called United Marketing Corporation based in Phoenix, Arizona only added to the speculation. Meanwhile Phoenix Foundation newsletters continue to come out of Amsterdam talking of the Isle of Man and the Azores as well as Santo and Aurora as continuing Phoenix targets. Obviously, as long as Phoenix exists, with backers of the calibre of Harry Schultz, no small nation is safe.”
In an article entitled New Foundlands, from the Summer 2005 issue of Cabinet (http://www.cabinetmagazine.org/issues/18/newfoundlands.php), Mr. George Pendle writes, “Perhaps the most persistent character to stem from [the] era of ephemeral states is Michael J. Oliver. A concentration camp survivor, coin dealer, and land developer, Oliver wrote the treatise A New Constitution for a New Country (1968) in which he created a model constitution for a nation whose extremely limited government could be financed voluntarily. Along with his sinister-sounding group, the Phoenix Foundation — whose members included John Hospers, the Libertarian Party’s first presidential candidate — Oliver would spend the next decade in an emphatic quest for his tax-free independent state.” But in the case of the New Hebrides, “Oliver had overreached himself. Despite having provided financial support to 800 separatists on Vanuatu, his revolt was quickly crushed by the arrival of troops from Australia and Papua New Guinea. Oliver denied any wrongdoing, but by now the Phoenix Foundation had caught the eye of the FBI. With charges threatened against him for violating the Logan Act, which prohibits private citizens from interfering in US relations with foreign powers, the Phoenix Foundation slowly melted away. Oliver, unfortunately for those interested in his monomaniacal quest, has not been heard from since.”
In Wages of Crime: Black Markets, Illegal Finance, and the Underworld, R. T. Naylor writes: “But of all the insta-country architects to grace their era, none marched across the world stage with as light a heart or as Michael Oliver. A Nevada real estate promoter and a fervid anti-Communist who made a fortune speculating against the US dollar during the Vietnam War-era currency crises, Oliver held political convictions that told him paradise on earth would consist of a state without government, an economy founded on totally free enterprise, and a monetary system based on gold. After an abortive effort to get the British to cede control of the Turks and Caicos Islands for a free port and gambling scheme, a bid for the Coco islands off Puerto Rico, and even a claim for some World War II antiaircraft platforms in the English Channel, in 1971 he and his colleagues turned their attention to the South Pacific.” Naylor thereupon discusses Minerva and Abaco. After the failure of the latter venture in the Caribbean, another opportunity to create an island fiscal paradise arose back in the South Pacific. “Oliver, by then relocated to Amsterdam, in conjunction with some right-wing monetary cranks, had created the Phoenix Foundation to advise Stevens and to funnel money to him. Oliver also drafted a Declaration of Independence and wrote up a constitution based on free enterprise, individual liberty, a gold-based monetary system, and the right to bear arms. Meanwhile, the Phoenix Foundation minted gold and silver coins with Stevens's head stamped on them, and from Amsterdam, the emerging world center for securities fraud, it sold shares in a development corporation to run the economy after independence.” In another book, Naylor Hot Money and the Politics of Debt states that it was actually Dr. John Hospers, “guru of the ‘libertarian’ political movement in the US”, who “inspired Oliver and his associates to create the Phoenix Foundation to proselytize and then to implement the libertarian economic and political creed of an earthly paradise characterized by zero government, a monetary system based on a strict gold standard, and no social welfare.” The rebellious “planters were encouraged by the Phoenix Foundation, which at least partially drafted the independence prospectus and advised the leaders of the would-be new state on a gold-based monetary system. Phoenix heavily funded Jimmy Stevens, former bulldozer operator turned leader of the Espiritu Santo (‘Vemarana’) secessionist movement; the foundation was also marketing shares in the Vemarana Development Corporation, which was to run the island after secession. The 1980 election in the New Hebrides delivered a decisive victory to the Vanuaaku party, which had denounced the ‘American “Mafia” businessmen who use violence to promote their interests’ in Vanuatu. That victory was the signal for the Espiritu Santo secessionists to spring into action. However, nothing went right. New Hebrides Customs officials confiscated 1,000 passports. The US government threatened to arrest the leaders of the Phoenix Foundation if they supported the secessionists, and a joint Anglo-French military unit put an end to the enterprise.” Ironically, since achieving independence, the Republic of Vanuatu has “launched itself into the Southeast Asian capital-flight business, on the advice of Michael Oliver and his Phoenix Foundation.” The government passed laws to create an offshore banking system, a national shipping registry (its merchant ships fly a “flag of convenience”), and an instant corporation business, thereby laying the foundation for its emergence as the South Pacific's most important financial haven (for hot Hong Kong money, especially). “As for Michael Oliver, he was last reported on the Isle of Man in the English Channel, chatting to residents about the advantages of independence from Britain. None of these attempts to create a new microstate from scratch have come to much. Founding fathers had more luck when they tried to take over and convert an existing island paradise into a tax haven, money laundry, and smuggling center. But even in those instances the record is far from universally positive.”
According to The Tree and the Canoe: History and Ethnogeography of Tanna By Joël Bonnemaison, when Oliver became one of Stephens’s advisors, “The foundation was then seeking an isolated land to build the utopian city of its dreams; liberalism had to be total, state control nonexistent…Oliver wanted to create a state of free enterprise where American capitalists could seek refuge from the United States and what he saw as its rampant ‘fascist socialism’…Oliver was searching for a Pacific island where the only responsibility of the local government would be to ensure the safety of goods and individuals, leaving residents free to organize themselves as they wished — in other words, an island where the Phoenix millionaires could prosper unfettered. The two men were suited to each other: by offering Michael Oliver a space in which to create his personal utopia, Jimmy Stevens found the powerful outside help he was looking for.”
I have also read that Oliver was a student of Friedrich A. Hayek's teacher Ludwig von Mises.
According to an article from Vanuatu's Daily Post (December 22, 2005), Oliver caused some alarm in Vanuatu by apparently sneaking back into that country: “Government authorities have denied any knowledge about reports of the entry of alleged financier of the ‘Santo rebellion’ Michael Oliver, who was deported by Fr Walter Lini in 1980. The American who was behind the infamous Phoenix Foundation reportedly successfully entered the country this week after 25 years of being listed as a ‘Prohibited Immigrant’ by successive Vanuatu governments.”Return to the Main Index