Commentary – The recent uproar over Deputy Prime Minister Taniela Fusimālohi’s decision to wear shorts during an official visit to Tonga’s outer islands has highlighted a growing clash between tradition and modern practicality in the kingdom.

All civil servants, except for uniformed staff like police, must wear tupenu and ta’ovala.

Former Prime Minister Hu’akavameiliku condemned Fusimālohi’s attire as “ta’efaka’apa’apa” (disrespectful), reigniting Tonga’s long-standing dress code debate.

Some conservatives often argue that men wearing trousers at formal government events is inappropriate, despite foreign dignitaries routinely wearing long trousers when meeting the king at the palace.

The controversy extends to lingering resistance against women wearing trousers in official settings, revealing deeper cultural tensions around gender and tradition. Yet many contend that trousers offer women better coverage and mobility in public gatherings.

The parliamentary debate reflects critical questions about cultural preservation versus modernisation in a rapidly changing world.

Tonga’s lufilufi’i dress code – requiring complete leg coverage – is deeply rooted in principles of modesty and respect. This cultural framework establishes specific protocols governing appropriate attire in different social contexts.

For men, the code mandates strict observance around sisters. They must never appear shirtless in the presence of sisters or nieces of the opposite sex. Similarly, women are recommended to carefully cover their legs when sitting near their brothers.

Formal occasions carry additional requirements

All men are recommended to wear tupenu (traditional long wraps) and ta’ovala (ceremonial waist mats) as markers of respect. The prohibition against shirtlessness in public spaces is particularly stringent, and violations are considered serious offences against social norms.

Those who disregard these protocols risk being labelled maneva, a term denoting shameless exposure or improper lack of clothing. These labels carry significant social weight, serving as powerful deterrents against dress code violations while upholding Tonga’s cherished values of modesty and cultural propriety.

Critics lambasted those with a lack of dress code with remarks like: “Ko ho’o maneva atu ‘oku ‘ikai ke ke sio ‘oku ‘eikisia e nofo!” (You went there naked (without ta’ovala) don’t you see the chiefs (or superiors) were in the gathering?).

Yet Fusimālohi’s practical defence – that harsh environments like bushland or sea work demand functional attire – resonates with many Tongans.

The Deputy Prime Minister argued that wearing tupenu and ta’ovala at sea risked winds blowing the tupenu aside, potentially exposing the wearer.

His critics insist that leaders uphold tradition unconditionally, while supporters argue that rigid adherence risks hypocrisy.

Shirtless Performers Accepted

This exposes a cultural paradox: Tongan society celebrates shirtless male mako dancers and Miss Heilala contestants in revealing sarongs, yet condemns a leader’s functional fieldwork attire. Also, both male and female bodybuilders regularly showcased their physiques to Tongan audiences without problems, even though their clothing was very revealing.

Such inconsistency demands reflection – are we applying cultural standards selectively? If entertainment bends tradition, why not governance in practical contexts?

The solution may lie in balance. Like all living traditions, Tonga’s dress codes must evolve while maintaining their essence.

A ta’ovala in Parliament signifies respect; girls wearing shorts while boys play shirtless in intercollegiate sports ensures safety and practicality. Rather than policing attire, we should consider the wearer’s intent: Are we preserving the spirit of our culture, or merely enforcing its surface-level rules?

This debate transcends clothing. It’s about Tonga navigating its 21st-century identity.

The wisest path respects tradition while allowing reasoned exceptions.

Culture thrives not in rigidity but in its capacity to remain meaningful across changing tides.