Remembering Moti:

As we cautiously slide into 2021, happy to leave behind a disastrous year, I am aware that, for some of us, we are leaving loved ones behind there too.

What’s more, Covid-19 has meant that we have been unable to mourn their passing as we would have liked. However, most have done their best to honour the deaths of the dear departed and to celebrate their lives under the trying circumstances of a pandemic.

Julian Moti QC, the former Attorney-General of the Solomon Islands died of a massive heart attack (I’m told) in Suva on 21 December 2020 – it’s been 11 days and, although I’ve been keeping an eye out for any news, tributes or announcements of a memorial service to him, apart from a couple of mentions in blogs, I’ve come across nothing.

Being aware that a death is a family matter, I chose, up until this time, to remain silent and to let the family arrange any fitting tributes – but there hasn’t been any (that I know of) and I’m aware that, as Julian’s death was sudden and that he was a relatively young man, it is unlikely that there were any personal death wishes.

And while I would never claim to be Julian’s biographer, at the time of his worst trouble – while staring down the possibility of a 17-year prison sentence – I wrote that story and travelled the difficult miles with him. Then, possibly too many years after the charges were stayed, I wrote it again in the book ‘Redeeming Moti.’ I feel it is incumbent upon me now to travel the path once again, not with him, this time, but for him. A life like he led, doesn’t deserve to end in obscurity.

I don’t intend to rehash here the circumstances of how Julian and I met or his struggle with the Australian government (for which they paid him compensation) that can be read in my book ‘Redeeming Moti’ – rather I’d like to remember my friend, Julian Moti.

Family

Julian wasn’t easy to get to know, he kept his life compartmentalized and I’m not entirely sure into which compartment I fall – but it’s definitely not the ‘family category’ about which I know precious little.

For almost seven years I laboured under the misapprehension that he was an only child as he cared for his invalid father and then helped with the care of his mother up until her death. It was only when I was writing ‘Redeeming Moti’ (into which, Julian had substantial input) that he informed me that he was not his parents’ only son and I should remove that reference.

When Julian asked if I’d attend his mother’s funeral (a couple of years ago), even though I’d never met her, I was taken aback, but I went – for him. He was clearly feeling in need of support. I was not surprised that it was Julian and his mother’s sister, who seemed to be the chief mourners – but there were also more of her children in attendance (a lot of them), these Julian had never spoken of and I was, up until then, unaware of them.  

Apropos to his mother: I still smile when I remember the piece I wrote that spoke of Julian smoking a cigarette and his response to reading it:
“You’ve not mentioned anything that you shouldn’t have?” he asked provocatively – knowing that I’d always refused to let him edit my work that I’d written about his case.
“Like what?” I replied – knowing that I had not mentioned his sexual orientation that was firmly “off the record” even though the knowledge would have positively altered the public’s perception of the case – but been too confronting for his parents.
“My mother doesn’t know I smoke,” he said. “…and I’d prefer she didn’t.
He was in his mid 40s at the time.

Such was Julian’s devotion to his parents whom he spoke about often and fondly. In fact, apart from his touching efforts to spare their feelings, he also devoted much of his time, in their later years, physically to their care – even to the detriment of his own career.

The rest of the family, for Julian, seemed to be a subject about which he would brook no intrusion. For example, there was only one chapter in ‘Redeeming Moti’ that Julian did not like and that was the second chapter.

It was meant to be the chapter that looked at Julian as a child growing up in Lautoka. However, Julian would not provide any details to fill out that chapter nor did he want me to contact anyone else to do so and, as such, the chapter became a general (cursory) look at life in Lautoka and Fiji around the time when he was a child. I think Julian thought that I presented too parochial (or maybe too cursory) a view.

Professionally

In my estimations, Julian was an ambitious man and rightly proud of his achievements. He had quickly, and very early in his career, become a big fish in a small pond and he exerted much influence in Pacific politics.

The great tragedy in his life, in my opinion, was ever meeting Ariipaea Salmon and his family in Vanuatu. It came at a time when Julian was particularly lonely and his interactions with this big raucous family filled a void. Unfortunately, this family never had any intentions of becoming nurturing – quite the contrary as Julian was to find out to his detriment.

When you crossed the Salmon family with an Australian government hellbent on neutralising Julian’s influence in the Solomon Islands, it provided the Australians with something which it could use as a weapon – and it ignobly did.

Hence Julian lost around five years of his professional life when he would have been close to the peak of his employability – at the time he had substantial, successful law practices in the Pacific and would probably have expanded. His career and his life, in general, came crashing down and it never fully recovered.

Yet, in spite of Julian’s former political positions, his aspirations for his future career (after the verdict of the High Court of Australia that found in his favour) were in law. He spoke often of his desire to play a role in the Court of Appeals – his specialty was constitutional law and his knowledge was vast.

I believe his return to Fiji was in order to pursue this ambition. Alas, in Fiji, he faced powerful opposition and, to my knowledge, never achieved that goal – although I doubt that he’d have completely abandoned it – he was still a relatively young man.

In the interim, he turned to his father’s profession of teaching and combined it with the law to take up a position with the University of Fiji as its first law professor.

Since relinquishing that role, I’m not completely aware of his professional movements but in 2019, Julian and I joined forces to launch a lifestyle magazine in Fiji, a venture of which I backed out after the inaugural issue but one which he carried on for a time.

Photo (from left) – Hon. Lynda Tabuya MP, Hon. Ratu Epeli Nailatikau, Speaker of the Fijian Parliament, Hon. Mereseina Vuniwaqa MP, Minister for Women, Children and Poverty Alleviation, Julian and me at the launch of Plus magazine in Suva – a collaboration between Julian and I.

But really, his first love was the law – that he never got to practice the law to his fullest capacity is tragic and we are all the poorer for not taking advantage of his knowledge and intellect while we could.  
 

Friendship

As a friend, Julian was generous and thoughtful, he never forgot a birthday.

On every one of my trips to Fiji, for instance, he’d make sure there were crabs in the freezer for him to whip up his mother’s signature ‘curry crab’ (for which he wouldn’t give me the recipe – a family secret). He knew how much I loved crabs and the curry was always delicious – so I guess we should add ‘good cook’ to his list of attributes.

He was intelligent company and his views were always interesting and well thought through. He was sensitive, funny and kind – quick to compliment and slow to condemn.

He was also charmingly vain and was always well turned out. He loved the paraphernalia of the law.

His networking skills were second to none and he always took great lengths to introduce me to interesting company, both in Australia and Fiji – many of whom I now consider friends.

For Julian to no longer be with us is almost unthinkable – what will we do without him? Who will cook me crab curry when I’m next in Fiji?  

I mourn him as a friend, confidante and collaborator but putting aside personal loss, on behalf of the people of the Pacific, I also mourn the potential that’s been removed so savagely.

Vale Julian.  It’s hard to type through tears.