Wasteland: Nauru

Blink and you will miss it. Luckily billions of birds didn’t. The 21-square-kilometers of land encompassing Nauru is little more than a ring of land surrounding a gouged out crater. It has has been devastated by phosphate mining which once made the Nauruans the second wealthiest people per capita on earth.

Those halcyon days are long gone. Today Naruans are impoverished and reliant on Australia's immigration detention centre for income, but they were once among the wealthiest people in the world. Had they been able to capitalise on the natural resources of their island, their story could have been very different. Next door, to the east, Kiribati managed on far less. It remains a viable economy. Nauru? No.

Phosphate put Nauru on the map. The same, to a lesser degree, as it did for Banaba in the then Gilbert Islands.  Everybody wanted phosphate; not just for fertilizer but also as an ingredient for the explosives industry.  Ordnance has always triumphed over ordinance. When phosphate was discovered on Nauru, the island was a German protectorate. During World War I, Australian troops threw out the Germans and took over Nauru. When the war ended, Nauru was given in trust to Britain, Australia and New Zealand. These three created the British Phosphate Commission which took over the rights to phosphate mining.

During World War II the Japanese moved in. Two-thirds of the population were deported to Micronesia to work as forced labour: hundreds  died from starvation or bombing. After the second war, Nauru was made a UN trust territory under Australian administration. It became the world's smallest independent republic in 1968.

What was its major challenge? Having to pay to get its remaining phosphate deposits back. How ironic. The phosphate was theirs. The British Phosphate Commission was essentially the exploiter. Nauru was in debt from day one to the three countries and the corporate interests that had owned and managed the mining.

As with many colonial misadventures, little heed had been paid by the concerned foreign governments to developing self-government capacity. Their interest was, as always, the profits—in this case, from phosphate.

Despite the imbalance between profits and provenance to the people, Nauruans enjoyed enormous wealth. It was, after all, a tiny country of only a few thousand in population. One could easily blame the excesses of the post independence leaders for the fact that they were soon totally broke. They did indeed make several unwise investments: buildings such as Nauru House in Melbourne, hotels in other countries, phosphate factories in countries like India and the Philippines. Few of these never really prospered.

Perhaps their biggest blunder was Air Nauru, the government airline through the 70s and 80s. At its peak, Air Nauru had seven aircraft and could carry 10 per cent of the country's population at any one time. Needless to say, its planes were often empty and it ran at a massive loss.

Did the government ignore the fact that the phosphates would soon run out? Whatever excuses you make, poor management undermined the nation's economic future.

How much of their failure should you—or could you—lay at the soiled shoes of Australia, New Zealand and Britain? They ran the British Phosphate Company. They exported millions of tons of phosphate to their own countries with no reference to the preferences of the Nauruans.

The local people had no say in the rape and plunder that occurred. They on-sold the phosphate at reduced prices thereby ensuring that their own primary industries became the exporting power houses of the early 19^th century.

Profit sharing? Almost as an afterthought, they paid the Nauruans a halfpenny a ton. At independence, the three powers demanded that the new country pay for the now devastated mining facility with its limited future.

‘Leftovers, anyone?’

 $20 million worth of leftovers.

It is interesting that in Kiribati, next door, an entirely different arrangement was made that enabled them to prosper with their carefully invested royalties.

When Nauru took the three colonial powers to the International Court of Justice over the matter, Britain and New Zealand  passed the buck: it was Australia who done it, mate!

Nauru sued Australia for Three Billion dollars. Australia settled out of court, for a mere 120 Million Dollars.

Next door in the Gilbert Islands, the Banabans had their own problems. They too took the British to court. They settled for much, much more.

The fact remains that everyone who had a hand on Nauruan history should accept the blame for its demise, and that includes its own profligate leadership.

Nauru could have been a success story today if the colonial powers had done the right thing. That being a given, it is also true that the Nauruans, from To Robert to his successors, could have listened to the meager advice they had.

Now, financially it is bankrupt. Environmentally it is destroyed..

The island is 21 square kilometres which is about the size of an average university campus. By the new millennium, Nauru was an environmental wasteland. Its phosphate industry was dead and its people were dying.

The Nauruans suffered from the excesses of their wealth: diabetes, heart conditions and obesity. As a visitor there in 1999, I saw nothing that suggested ‘traditional skills’. I have no doubt that they could recover some.

What I saw as we drove into town across the airport runway—it is the only runway in the world with traffic lights and a pedestrian crossing—the road crosses the runway. Mind you, no one uses the pedestrian crossing. Nauruans don’t walk. They might stagger home drunk, past rusting white goods like fridges and air conditioners that have long since broken down and which no one bothered to—or could—repair.

They can’t even stay alert when serving you in the formerly lovely Mennen Hotel, now, too, rusting away along with its disinterested staff.

‘Will you take my order?’

A large individual wanders over and plonks himself down at your table, sighing.

‘Waddya want?’

Then he himself feeds on Twisties and preserved food whilst the waters around his island teem with fish.

These days, of course, the people are paid by Australia for proving a dumping ground for asylum seekers. Originally a temporary measure, it is now The Pacific Solution.

Kevin Rudd closed it after his election in 2007 but Julia Gillard reopened it in 2012. Tony Abbott is still trying to work our where Nauru actually is.

What a sad place. I am glad in a way that I was never assigned there. I think I would have gone mad. Air Nauru’s remaining plane still flies. Its cabin crew are mainly from other countries. Sadly, most local people are neither interested in nor slim enough to push the trolley.

I boarded the plane in 1999 to return to Sydney. We sat there for a few minutes,. Then more. Finally, an announcement was made: we would be leaving soon.

Two hours later, a large personage who turned out to be Renée Harris, the President of this august nation, staggered on. He walked the length of the plane greeting everyone. He then plumped himself down in a business class seat and our plane—speeding over the traffic waiting at the runway crossing—took off and left the speck behind.