The Victorian Bar and RAMSI

The Regional Assistance Mission to Solomon Islands ( RAMSI) is a co-operative effort between Australia, New Zealand and other Pacific nations, aimed at restoring law and order and good governance to Solomon Islands, following the ethnic ‘tension’

(as it is euphemistically called) which erupted in 1999 between the warring militias from Guadalcanal and Malaita.

Counsel are required to be wigged and robed when appearing in the High Court, which presents no problem in Honiara, where the courtrooms are air-conditioned. But it is a different matter out in the provinces; it is quite an experience to appear in a court which is little more than an open-sided shed, with the tropical downpour outside drowning out the voice of the witness, and the sweat streaming down your face and dripping all over the bar table.
Trial is by judge alone in Solomon Islands. Juries would simply not work here: first, it would be nearly impossible to find 12 men and women who were not wantoks (relatives) of a participant in the trial, and even if you could find such a jury, Solomon Islanders have such a fabulously relaxed approach to life that you would seldom be able to convene all 12 of them in the same place at the same time.

Practising in a Foreign Jurisdiction

When I first arrived here I was quite apprehensive about practising in a jurisdiction where the law was unfamiliar, but it soon became apparent that the offences contained in the Penal Code, and the procedures set out in Criminal Procedure Code, are reasonably similar to our own in Victoria. (There are, of course, exceptions. For example, s.190 of the Penal Code provides for a penalty of imprisonment for 2 months or a fine of forty dollars for Sorcery.
English is the official language of Solomon Islands and its courtrooms, only an educated minority speak it well. For taking more complicated instructions in conference, and then dealing with witnesses in court, there is a heavy reliance on pijin interpreters. These interpreters are also invaluable for explaining all the myriad cultural nuances and sub-plots which are invariably bubbling away beneath the surface, but your clients are too shy to tell you about.
The work in the Public Solicitor’s Office is enormously varied. One week you might be in the High Court defending a count of murder but the next day you might be the duty lawyer in the Magistrates’ Court, or playing suburban solicitor and dealing with all manner of civil disputes and family law problems
Custom Reconciliation

To my mind one of the most interesting differences here is the role of custom reconciliation in dealing with criminal offending. Melanesians have a truly remarkable ability to forgive and move on, even after quite serious offending. (I presume this may be explained in part by their having lived together in villages on small islands for thousands of years, where life would quickly become intolerable if they were unable to sort out their differences). Whatever the explanation, compensation and reconciliation ceremonies still play a large part in Melanesian life, and this is recognized in s.35 of the Magistrates’ Court Act, which provides that proceedings for common assault and other less serious offences may be stayed or terminated if the court is satisfied that reconciliation has taken place. Even in very serious cases which cannot be dealt with in this manner, if reconciliation has taken place, it will be an important factor in mitigation (murder being the exception - the penalty is mandatory life imprisonment).The reconciliation ceremonies themselves can be elaborate affairs, presided over by village chiefs, with compensation paid in shell-money, cash, pigs or other food.

Prison

Visiting clients in custody is the other aspect of practice here that is strikingly different. I always found the prisons back home intimidating places; the atmosphere of anger and frustration was palpable. But the mood in Rove Prison in Honiara is positively convivial, and I always enjoy my visits there
The inmates in Rove always seem to be laughing and singing and playing guitars, and they appear to get on brilliantly with the warders, who are always the first to congratulate them if they get a good result in court.

Indeed, two incidents in particular have made me wonder whether prison here has any deterrent effect at all. Once I saw a man walking out of a cell-block weeping pitifully, and when I asked the warders what was wrong, they explained he’d just finished his four-year sentence, and was very sad to be leaving his friends! The other incident was related to me by a Magistrate who had just sentenced a defendant to a short term of imprisonment, but it was so late in the day that all the police and prison officers had long since wandered off, and no one was available to take the prisoner into custody. No matter. The obliging fellow simply paid his own bus fare down to Rove prison, and handed himself in at the front gate!.

Solomon Islanders can also be breathtakingly candid as one ex pat Magistrate learnt: wishing to give the unrepresented defendant every chance to explain himself, he helpfully asked “Is there any reason you want to give me as to why you drove carelessly?” “Yes” came the answer, “because I was really drunk”.

Going On Tour

Going on circuit in Solomon Islands is called ‘going on tour’, which I can never get used to, sounding as it does like a reference to a cricket team. Now whilst Honiara may be a bit of an eyesore, the 992 islands which make up the rest of the country are simply beautiful. Compared with so many other countries, which have been overdeveloped into such a dreary state of McUniformity, getting out into the provinces of the Solomons is like stepping back into the pages of a Somerset Maugham short story. It is just fantastic.
There are basically two ways of going on circuit here. The first is to fly to your destination and live in a local resthouse (as they are called). This can be a gruelling experience: the accommodation is basic, there is no electricity, not enough food, rats chew on your feet in the night, and by the end of the week you are dying to return to the relative comfort of Honiara. The other way to go on circuit is to go on the MV Silent One. The Silent One is a 30 metre former dive yacht which is chartered by AusAid to take justice to the many isolated parts of the Solomons. Magistrate, prosecutor and defence counsel all live aboard for a week or two at a time, and sail to some of the most remote locations you could ever encounter. Having anchored off your destination, each morning after breakfast you all pile into a dinghy and speed across a shimmering turquoise lagoon to work. Nearby your clients can be seen paddling to court in their dugout canoes, in answer to their summonses.

I think I have been as happy as I have ever been, standing on the bow of the Silent One, with the wind in my hair and the dolphins and flying-fish playing below. No holiday could ever compare with it, because unlike a holiday, here you gain the enormous satisfaction of doing something constructive and making a real contribution.
Unfortunately the Silent One is no longer performing this role, which is a shame, because its crew are some of the best ambassadors that RAMSI has, and for the people of the outlying provinces, the big blue outline of the Silent One on the horizon is the most visible symbol of justice and the Rule of Law in Solomon Islands.

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