Deputy Prime Minister Taniela Fusimalohi’s unflinching vow to keep exposing wrongdoing, even as his own colleagues turn against him, should alarm every citizen who cares about transparent governance.
He said that he was unbothered by his critics’ actions. In Tongan, he said: ‘I’ll keep leaking for the public good.”
His admission of being disliked in Parliament for whistleblowing isn’t just a personal grievance, it’s a damning indictment of a political system that prioritises secrecy over accountability.
The backlash against Fusimalohi reveals a disturbing pattern: Those who dare to expose misconduct face isolation, while those accused of mismanagement cling to the shadows.
Take the explosive case of Tonga’s missing $60 million in COVID funds—buried in an Auditor General’s report that Parliament tried to rubber-stamp without debate.
Or the false allegations about the Ministry of Infrastructure, now under police investigation.
These are not minor disputes; rather, they are signs of a deeper issue that Fusimalohi refuses to overlook.
Yet instead of addressing these scandals, some lawmakers seem more invested in punishing the messenger.
Their hostility sends a chilling message: question nothing, reveal nothing.
This is the opposite of how democracy should work. Public office is a trust, not a shield for corruption.
Tonga’s people deserve better. If Parliament views transparency as a threat rather than a duty, it’s not Fusimalohi who should be condemned, it’s the system protecting those with something to hide.
His defiance isn’t rebellion, it’s the bare minimum of civic courage.
The real question isn’t whether he should stop leaking, but why more leaders aren’t joining him.
Silence is complicity. Tonga’s future depends on who wins this fight—the people’s right to know, or the politicians who fear the light.
