On small islands, (social) intimacy, (economic) monopoly and (political) totality combine to create a very distinct societal fabric that one simply must learn to negotiate and possibly manage in order to survive ‘island life’. Should a small island citizen find this combination too oppressive and even unbearable, the only realistic solution may be exile (or ‘ex-isle’: Bongie, 1998).
The remarkable sense of a tight community on small islands is often accompanied by the equally strong presence of the state, especially in small island states and subnational island jurisdictions. Ubiquitous and omnipresent, the ramifications of the state in small island states and territories are extensive and are reminiscent of totalitarian regimes where ‘big brother’ (or ‘big sister’) is watching you. While most small islands are formally democratic, the tendency toward totality means that their informal dynamics are often characterised by a significant degree of authoritarianism (Erk and Veenendaal, 2014). The relative lack of a vibrant private sector economy in many small island jurisdictions means that many islanders will depend on the state, directly or indirectly, for employment, concessions or contracts. The clutches of the state are so expansive that even civil society, where it exists on small islands, may often organize itself primarily to lobby and seek resources from the state.
Political leaders in small states tend to remain in office for comparatively long periods. During this time, they tend to dominate the entire political arena: a feature highlighted in ‘big man politics’ (McLeod, 2007). The relative weakness of parliament, the political opposition, the media, and other institutions that are supposed to function as a check on executive power often implies omnipotent small state governments. Such a condition can led to a concentration of vast powers in single individuals. Traditional leaders commonly combine their chiefly titles with owning a business and running for elected office, leading to a convergence of traditional, economic and political power. The upshot of such developments is a lack of power sharing as well as the absence of economic and political pluralism, which may ultimately undermine effective governance (Baldacchino and Veenendaal, 2018).
This intensity of the state’s presence in island life is exacerbated by personality politics. Political contests are accompanied by media broadcasts, televised meetings and debates, and now also on social media, just like in other, larger, jurisdictions. However, in small societies, the voter and the voted are more likely to know each other in person: they will typically make it a point to connect at a physical and face-to-face level. This voter-politician relationship is exacerbated and facilitated by the relatively smaller number of votes required to elect a small island representative to office. This occurs because parliaments, even in small jurisdictions, will always have a minimum number of members and so loom disproportionately large, relative to the size of the electorate. Such low numbers and ratios make personal relationships inevitable, and both the voter and the candidate are likely to make themselves known to each other. Indeed, small island societies can rightly claim to manifest some of the world’s highest voter turnouts: in Malta and Iceland, voter turnout is typically 90% or more (even though voting is not compulsory). Such societies are not necessarily examples of strong citizen engagement and good democratic practice; they are also places where it may not be a good idea to be seen, and therefore known, not to vote (Hirczy, 1995).
Another justification for the extraordinary role of the state in small island societies has to do with critical mass. This suggests that any society, and especially a jurisdiction, will require a set number of roles typically performed by the state: a speaker of the house, a commissioner of police, a chief justice, an accountant general, a postmaster general, a medical superintendent. Whether we are talking of India (the world’s largest democracy by population) or Tuvalu (the world’s smallest sovereign island state), these roles must exist in a well-functioning democracy. If unable to spread out these roles to as many people, small societies can, and do, combine some of these roles within the job description of the same person. Therefore “[n]ot only are there fewer roles in a small scale society, but because of the smallness of the total social field, many roles are played by relatively few individuals” (Benedict, 1967, p. 26).
Such overlapping roles can lead to situations of role conflict: the same individuals are brought into contact multiple times in various social contexts, and where these persons are notionally playing different roles. In small island social systems, ascribed criteria trump achieved criteria, even in notionally meritocratic settings. Primary and secondary school mates reconnect in higher education, in the workplace, in other social, political and religious activities. Friendships last decades and can encourage subtle forms of preference, discrimination and favouritism: what has been described as “amoral familism” (Banfield, 1958). Meanwhile, rivalries too will last a lifetime and can trigger serious enmities and antipathetic relations, reminiscent of mafia-style affairs. Thus, a small island citizen will grow up in a dense network of family, friends and “friends of friends” (Boissevain, 1974) arising from a “straightjacket of community surveillance” (Weale, 1992, p. 9), and accentuated by the state and an intrusive political system.
No wonder, therefore, that a small island society (or polity) has been described as approximating a ‘total institution’, a term popularised by Goffman (1961). In most western societies, there may be clear boundaries between the places where – and social groups with which – people, work, play, pray, relax, eat and sleep. In total institutions, however, such barriers and borders may crack, break down or are inexistent. The term was coined to refer to asylums (mental institutions with residential inmates), but has been extended to apply to such places as boarding schools, prisons or army barracks. Given the way that totality applies, as described above, a small island society, and especially a small island jurisdiction, could also qualify. After all, in a total institution, “… all aspects of life are conducted in the same place [read: small island] and under the same single authority [read: the state, the government, as well as the surveillance-obsessed society]” (Goffman, 1961, p. 12). Small islands have been differently described as total institutions in recent years because of growing dispositions by their governments towards securitisation and securing their borders: whether in response to ‘undocumented migrant’ arrivals or as a proactive protection measure in the face of the threat of Covid-19 (Lemaire, 2014; Agius et al., 2021). In so doing, such governments pursue the “unattainable desire of insularity” (Perera, 2009, p. 1). Island detention centres “function as islands within islands, as if to accentuate and parody the desire to contain and isolate” (Mountz, 2017, p. 75).
Agius, K., Sindico, F., Sajeva, G., & Baldacchino, G. (2021). ‘Splendid isolation’: Embracing islandness in a global pandemic. Island Studies Journal, 17(2), ___-____.
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