Opinion | They Say It’s a Breakthrough — But What Does It Really Mean for Tonga’s People?

A group photo of the Forum Fisheries Committee Ministerial at the conclusion of the three-day meeting in Niue. Photo: Supplied.

By Melino Maka
Chair of the Huelo Matamoana Trust and Political-Economic Commentator on Tonga and Pacific regional issues.

Last week, Pacific fisheries ministers gathered in Niue for the 24th Forum Fisheries Committee Ministerial Meeting. The outcome was packaged in a carefully worded press release, circulated by the Forum Fisheries Agency (FFA), and echoed by regional media outlets with little analysis. The headline? A breakthrough agreement on South Pacific Albacore tuna allocations after 20 years of negotiation.

But back here in Tonga, as we line up to pay record-high prices for small portions of local fish, the question many of us are asking is: a breakthrough for whom? Because it certainly doesn’t feel like one for ordinary Tongan families or fishers.

What the Albacore Deal Really Means – and What It Doesn’t

Yes, it’s true: after nearly two decades of talks, Pacific nations have agreed on how to share South Pacific Albacore stocks. The technical term is a “zone-based, proportional allocation” approach, meaning each country will get a slice of the fish based on their maritime territory. On paper, this is a step toward fairness—especially for small island nations like Tonga that actually host these fisheries in their waters.

But here’s the reality: local fleets in Tonga have been struggling for years. Catch rates are falling. Operational costs—fuel, maintenance, compliance—are climbing. Foreign fishing vessels dominate the waters, and our own small-scale operators often can’t compete. Meanwhile, the very fish from our ocean is ending up in export containers, expensive retail markets—or back on our plates at prices that working families can barely afford.

You’d be forgiven for wondering: if we’re surrounded by fish, why can’t we afford to eat it?

This is the real story that doesn’t get told in glossy regional statements. While officials fly home satisfied, our communities are still left out—uninformed, underrepresented, and economically sidelined.

Climate Promises and Cultural Initiatives – But Where’s the Action?

The ministers also endorsed a series of well-meaning initiatives: an Ocean Literacy programme, a Climate Change Strategy, and support for Australia’s COP31 climate summit bid. All fine in theory. But in Tonga, these words are starting to sound hollow.

We’ve heard these promises before—“recognising Pacific identity,” “integrating traditional knowledge,” “strengthening resilience.” Yet no one is explaining how these policies will actually protect our coastlines, create jobs for our youth, or bring the price of fish back down to where families can afford it.

Ocean Literacy isn’t just about celebrating our connection to the sea. It’s about ensuring that our people are literate in the decisions being made about their ocean. That includes knowing how fisheries revenue is used, who gets the licenses, and what’s being done about illegal fishing.

Processing and Economic Development – But Will Tonga Benefit?

Ministers talked about the East New Britain Initiative (ENBi), a regional plan to develop tuna processing hubs, dockside offloading, and electronic monitoring. Again, this is being pitched as another regional advancement.

But the question for Tonga is simple: where is our seat at this table?

Will any of these processing jobs or investments reach our shores—or will they concentrate again in bigger Pacific nations with more political leverage? Will Tonga’s young people have access to training, employment, and ownership in this industry—or will we remain a distant observer in our own waters?

The answer depends not just on what the FFA or the PNA (Parties to the Nauru Agreement) decide—but on whether our leaders are advocating strongly and transparently on our behalf.

Accountability Must Begin at Home

Ministers also endorsed an independent review of the FFA and agreed to form a small working group to implement its recommendations. But how many people in Tonga even know this review happened? Where is the national consultation? Where is the accountability?

Too often, decisions made in the name of the “region” don’t reflect the voices of ordinary Pacific Islanders. They reflect diplomatic compromise, bureaucratic convenience, and donor-friendly language.

In Tonga, we need to insist that our fisheries policy is by us and for us—not just in theory, but in governance, in benefits, and in daily life.

So What Needs to Change?

  1. Talk to the People: These ministerial outcomes must be translated—literally and politically—into the local languages and realities of each member country. Radio programmes, talanoa sessions, and civil society forums should be standard after every major meeting.
  2. Build a Truly Independent Media: Regional media outlets often lack the training and funding to interrogate fisheries policy. That needs to change. Tonga’s journalists need access, support, and space to ask hard questions—not just recycle press releases.
  3. Create a Tongan Fisheries Blueprint: Tonga should develop a national strategy that puts our people first. That includes affordable access to fish, local fleet investment, processing opportunities, and clear benefits-sharing from foreign licenses.
  4. Demand More from Officials: Our ministers and senior officials must be held to a higher standard of transparency and public accountability. Who they meet with, what they sign, and what it means for us should never be hidden behind regional bureaucracy.

The Price of Silence

Fish is more expensive in Tonga now than ever before. That fact alone should tell us something is broken. If we don’t fix it soon, we will remain mere spectators in the management of our own marine resources—while others make the money, the rules, and the headlines.

This latest ministerial meeting might have been a breakthrough for regional diplomacy. But for Tonga, the real breakthrough will come when decisions made in faraway meetings start putting fish on our tables, money in our communities, and power back into our hands.

Until then, we must keep asking: whose ocean is this really?

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