Testing a social theory of small, remote communities.

The following is my submission to the Norfolk Island Interim Advisory Council, which sought inputs into future models of Island governance.  It is a social theory regarding a characteristic of small, remote communities which, if correct, needs to be factored into governance for government to work.  I welcome feedback.

The Norfolk Island Interim Advisory Council

Dear Members:

If we have the opportunity to design the optimum model of government for Norfolk Island – at any level of authority – it would need to take into account a very predictable characteristic of virtually every small, remote community: the great reluctance of people to speak out.

This attribute of human nature was best expressed to me by a tourist from outback Australia.  He said: in a small community, it is more important to get along, than be right.  That is, it is paramount that people not be openly critical.  The equivalent phrase we hear on Norfolk Island is, "I would [speak out], but I have to live here."  This is an exceptionally real concern in an environment in which we see each other so frequently and where our lives are so closely interconnected.  By being candid about a situation or event, however well-meaning and correct, you never know who you could offend that you might need sometime in the future.  You might want a service done or you could end up working with (or even for) that person.  He or she could be a valued customer or become a neighbour.  What is certain, in a small community, is you will see that person and his or her family repeatedly.  So people are understandably reluctant to speak their minds.  It can be wise not to.  Anyone who has lived in a small community knows this to be true.  But what does this mean politically?

Simply put, if people are reluctant to speak out, candour suffers and without candour, accountability in government doesn't exist.  Full stop.  People tolerate small moments of self-interest, cronyism and nepotism, additional elements of human nature, which accumulate over time and become the norm.  You can end-up with a government composed primarily of friends and relations who become protective of what they have, yet another aspect of human behaviour.  But this is also not the type of environment that welcomes new people, ideas and innovation, those things that help a community manage change.  Particularly in a democracy, what to do?

There's no easy answer to this dilemma.  Democracies require candour to work.  The accountability which comes from candour maximises the likelihood that wise decisions will be made.  But the system fails in practical terms if too many people feel they have reason to not speak their mind.  So, again, what to do?  What kind of political model is best for a small, remote democracy?

I've advocated the Lord Howe Island model of governance several times in the past.  Taken from a letter to The Norfolk Islander on 24 November, 2011:

"… Lord Howe’s equivalent to our Legislative Assembly is a seven-member Board.  Four members of this Board are elected by the community and three are appointed by, in their case, the NSW Minister for Climate Change, Environment and Water.  It’s a hybrid form of government which, after the initial shudder at the thought, neatly addresses some of the shortcomings of very small communities while upholding the essential principle of majority rule.  Put another way, the community retains a majority voice in its decision-making while ensuring that, theoretically at least, there are also Board members who are there to insert the types of skills … that typically don’t exist in small populations."

Much more importantly, this hybrid model can enable an accountability in government that otherwise simply wouldn't occur.  Appointees, who should always be a voting minority so elected members can hold sway, in addition to introducing new skills, by virtue of not being of the community, can be candid in a way that would be unimaginable on a small island.  And all you need is the prospect of accountability to keep the system relatively open.  The concept is admittedly contrary to many democratic values we hold dear, indeed inalienable.  But it adds a preeminent practicality to the dilemma of politics in a small, remote community that is foolish to ignore.  It does not matter what level of government.  Without candour we don't even have the prospect of accountability and without that, what is democracy?  We should do this for Norfolk.

Rick Kleiner
Norfolk Island
18 August, 2015