Keywords

Rehabilitation, a concept familiar to most western societies, is relatively new to Fiji (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.a). In 2006, the Corrections Services Act (2006) placed rehabilitation at the centre of Fiji’s correctional aims, and the past 18 years have seen significant growth and change in their rehabilitative praxis. Upskilling has become a central aspect of the Fijian incarceral experience (see Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.a), the Yellow Ribbon Project has been implemented to reintroduce inmates into the community (see Vuiyasawa, 2009), and diverse populations have emerged under Fiji Corrections Service’s care (see Fiji Corrections Service, 2019). However, such changes have also created significant challenges for the Fiji Corrections Service, who have attempted to embed Indigenous iTaukei1 culture at the centre of their rehabilitative praxis. While these changes create a suitable and effective environment for some inmates, their generalised use on the entire incarceral population is problematic. Fiji Corrections Service’s current approach to other diverse populations has led to segregation (see Buadromo, 1982), stereotyping, and stigmatisation. Moreover, the elements of Fijian culture that are central to Fijian rehabilitative efforts create victimisation (see Lees et al., n.d.; also, Whitehead, 2019), and traditional actors who were historically central to customary iTaukei reintegration praxis have been forgotten.

The incarcerable experience in Fiji currently excludes powerful cultural mechanisms of reintegration that would benefit inmates and the wider community. For example, despite a significant iTaukei focus, current rehabilitative efforts lack the core process and principles of bulubulu.2 Moreover, there is a significant need to shift current the Fiji Corrections Service’s rehabilitative efforts away from the Christian iTaukei majority and better recognise the other diverse populations under the Fiji Corrections Service’s care. However, these efforts require a complete redesign of the current procedures and practices of Fiji Corrections Service, the integration of customary and restorative justice mechanisms, and embedding vanua, or connectivity to the land, family, and village (see Newland, 2016), into its core principles of rehabilitation.

Customary Justice in Fiji

The iTaukei practice of bulubulu is a reconciliation ceremony and the historic customary response to many offences in Fiji (Adinkrah, 1995; Merry, 2006; Newland, 2016; see Cretton, 2005; also Jolly, 2005). Bulubulu’s customary reconciliation ceremonies are used to heal the vanua of a village (Newland, 2016), mediate the diverse power relationships in hierarchical iTaukei society, and acknowledge the importance of each villager to the wellbeing of the community. The ceremony requires the offending party to approach the victim as an act of contrition and compensation in the form of a tabua (a whale’s tooth, and culturally important symbol of purity; see Abramson, 1995; also, Arno, 1976), and would be overseen or mediated by the chief. Like many forms of customary justice, concerns surrounding bulubulu centre on inmates escaping meaningful punishment or a custodial sentence (see Hickson, 1975; also Merry, 2006), particularly in cases of gendered violence (see Whitehead, 2019). However, despite concerns surrounding the ceremony, it has a firm rehabilitative aim. Bulubulu not only creates peace in the community by settling disputes and reintegrating a deviant individual (Merry, 2006), but operates alongside community shame and tovo vakaturuga (conduct modelled by the chief or ratu; Hickson, 1975; see Newland, 2016) to modify behaviour.

This form of customary justice is so fundamental to the iTaukei experience that it has played a central role in Fijian politics and is used as a tool for apology and reconciliation following the 1987 and 2000 coups (Braithwaite, 2014; Cretton, 2005; see Whitehead & Roffee, 2016). Moreover, despite the introduction of a contemporary and westernised criminal justice system in Fiji, bulubulu remains firmly entrenched in many outlying areas that lack access to justice (Whitehead, 2019), contemporary scholars continue to debate its use in cases of gendered violence (Merry, 2004; Whitehead, 2019), and its use has been debated by international panels such as the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW; Merry, 2006). However, this ceremony is not utilised by Fiji Correction’s Service. Instead, the core principles of bulubulu, have deconstructed and amalgamated with other rehabilitative and reintegrative programmes, with problematic results. Nonetheless, when framed appropriately and operating alongside the western criminal justice system, bulubulu can operate as a rehabilitative and reintegrative tool for iTaukei inmates, and potentially other groups who feel a strong connection to the iTaukei vanua.

Demographics and Diversity: New Challenges for the Fiji Corrections Service

Increased diversity has become a challenge for the Fiji Corrections Service. Like many countries, Fiji is experiencing a growth in prison populations. Rates of incarcerated inmates have steadily increased from 1,987 in the 2016–2017 period, to 2337 in 2017–2018 (Fiji Corrections Service, 2019), and 2,439 as of 20193 (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.b). Most of these inmates are members of the island nation’s largest demographics, with statistics from 2017 to 2018 suggesting iTaukei detainees represent 79% of the incarceral population and Indo-Fijians 17% (Fiji Corrections Service, 2019).4 Other populations are classified as European (0.5%), Chinese (0.27%), and Other (2.5%) (Fiji Corrections Service, 2019), and these groups are likely to grow as Fiji invites further immigration, tourism, and trade. This increased diversity, alongside an increase in female inmates (see Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.b), creates concerns surrounding longstanding overcrowding issues and the rehabilitative needs of this culturally diverse population (See Nand, 2021; also, The Fijian Government, 2012).

Many countries are currently engaged in a wider debate on how to integrate and support LGBTIQ+ inmates. This often creates unique challenges for the correctional institution, including questions surrounding access to appropriate clothing, the use of preferred names and pronouns, and access to various medical needs (see Roffee & Whitehead, 2019 for a discussion of this in an Australian context). The only literature surrounding LGBTIQ+ inmates in Fijian prisons suggests that historically they were segregated from the wider prison population to prevent sexual violence (Buadromo, 1982). It is unknown if such segregation still occurs, but this policy can exacerbate risk factors for incarceration, lead to further social isolation, and as detailed below, significantly hamper rehabilitative praxis. The rehabilitative praxis of Fijian correctional centres remains relatively under-researched.5 The only information on this is provided by Fiji Corrections Service (n.d.b), and a handful of researchers who have gained access to inmates incarcerated in these centres (See Whitehead, 2019). Despite such limited research, poor rehabilitative design is embedded within the Fiji Corrections Service’s praxis (see Adinkrah, 1995; also, Whitehead, 2019), and significant changes to rehabilitation programmes are needed to better support inmates under their care. Moreover, there is limited evidence that the needs of culturally and gender diverse prisons are accounted for.

The Intake Process

The Fiji Corrections Service has segmented the intake process into a daily routine that will be experienced by all inmates: Day one, medical assessment and receipt of prison kits6; day two, family visit; and day three, psychological assessment and sentence planning7 (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c). In particular, the family visit provides an interesting context for rehabilitation, as this pulls upon those close to the inmate to contextualise criminogenic risk factors in their environment (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c). Such an approach ties heavily to the wider iTaukei ideal of vanua and creates a space for the community to assist the rehabilitative process from its onset. However, such a programme assumes the inmate and their family are communicating, ostracises those individuals without close family, and excludes other important community actors.8 Moreover, there is limited knowledge of the psychological assessment process used by the Fiji Corrections Service and if this aligns to the widely used Risks, Needs, Responsivity model.9 As a result, it is unknown if this assessment successfully charts the criminogenic risk factors and rehabilitative needs of inmates. Instead, a significant weight is placed upon the pastoral care of inmates through spiritual counselling and militarised drills (Fiji Corrections Service, 2016, n.d.c; Whitehead, 2019).

The Fijian Incarcerable Experience

From the outset of their incarceration, inmates are required to engage in a basic foot drill (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c: 9) designed to instil self-discipline. However, this approach constructs a militarised ideal within the Fiji Corrections Service, further facilitated by the military titles used by staff.10 An additional concern surrounds those inmates who may not be able to complete these drills. While medical grounds can be used to exclude individuals from foot drills (Fiji Corrections Service, 2016, n.d.c), the Fiji Corrections Service provides no details about the alternative programmes offered to inmates unable to engage in this physical activity. As a result, and despite the problematic ideals represented by these drills, a core element of Fijian rehabilitative praxis is not accessible to many inmates. Gender also plays a leading role in rehabilitative praxis. Innovative justice paradigms, such as restorative justice, are only offered to female sexual offence inmates (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c) and are conducted by the Pacific Centre for Peacebuilding (PCP), an organisation with a problematic record of victim coercion during restorative ceremonies (Whitehead, 2019). The limited information available on the PCP suggests this organisation targets restorative programmes towards ‘women, youth, sexual gender minorities, vulnerable and minority groups’ (PCP, 2021). However, doing so limits access to restorative justice for inmates outside of these groups, and while the organisation notes an overt focus on the LGBTIQ+ community, this has yet to be integrated into the rehabilitative programmes of the Fiji Corrections Service.

Such a gender divide continues throughout the design of Fijian rehabilitative programmes, with two programmes (named Female Offender Programme and Female and Male Recidivists Programme) offered to female inmates.11 Both of these programmes are exceptionally general, focusing on criminogenic risk factors such as substance abuse, and have a significant amount of overlap between them (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c). Female inmates are also not segregated through offence type or sentence length (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c), creating a space where they could be victimised by other inmates or develop new deviant ideals from others. Moreover, programmes that target recidivists are overseen by the same staff members in the same institution (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c). Such repetition is unlikely to have any rehabilitative benefit.

For male inmates, short-term rehabilitative praxis includes domestic violence and general offence programmes, the latter incorporating a variety of offences and addressing these through male cognitive skills, alcohol and substance use, and anger management courses. Long termer rehabilitation programmes include violent offences, sex offence, and anger management programmes (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c). These are described as ‘[t]herapeutic interventions that addresses the emotional and cognitive aspects of the individual to ensure a sustainable element of therapeutic, emotional and cognitive change’ (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c: 28), and in the case of sexual violence inmates the programme appears to have a basis in Gestalt therapy (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c). However, the wider therapeutic processes and practices of this approach are not detailed in any official Fiji Corrections Service documentation, and it is unknown if psychological therapy is offered to all inmates. As a result, it is difficult to analyse the suitability of these models, although Whitehead (2019) does note that sexual violence inmates maintain problematic patriarchal and victim-blaming belief structures, suggesting a limited therapeutic impact. Moreover, and as noted in previous sections, Fiji Corrections Service does not appear to have any programmes tailored to LGBTIQ+ inmates, which may be due to the highly religious nature of Fijian society and consequently its rehabilitative praxis.

Spirituality is deeply entrenched within Fijian rehabilitation models, and forms a core element of all rehabilitative praxis regardless of offence type, sentence length, or gender (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c).12 The Fiji Corrections Service (2016: 11–12) states that the purpose of this spiritual counselling is to create a holistic response to offending, integrating ‘body, mind and spirit [to] depict the wholeness of an individual’ and better integrate culture into the rehabilitative praxis. Despite the predominance of Methodism throughout Fiji, the spiritual counselling programme is not limited to Christian inmates. Non-Christians are allowed access to their own denominational leaders, and spiritual wellbeing is framed through multiple diverse lenses (Fiji Corrections Service, 2016). However, there is little evidence of the impact of this spiritual counselling, and a lack of other religious leaders on Fiji Corrections Services staff frames the organisation as predominantly Christian. This creates a space for victimisation of those inmates from diverse religious backgrounds, and frames ‘Moral Development Education’ (Fiji Corrections Service, 2016: 13) through stereotypes. For example, the ‘Muslim’ programme lacks details on its practice and facilitator, while the ‘Yoga’ programme is facilitated by ‘Hindu’ (Fiji Corrections Service, 2016: 13). Moreover, no rehabilitation policy or documentation makes note of atheist or agnostic inmates, suggesting a lack of programmes targeting these groups, and such a heavy Christian focus could stigmatise and discriminate against LGBTIQ+ inmates. A lack of diversity further impacts the Fiji Corrections Service upskilling programme, designed to provide inmates with valuable skills upon release.

Upskilling and the Yellow Ribbon Project

A core element of Fiji Corrections Service rehabilitative praxis is the upskilling programme for medium and long-term inmates. Again, separated by gender and at the end stage of the rehabilitation framework, inmates are trained in various vocations to improve their employment opportunities, foster peer support between inmates, and provide financial support to the Fiji Corrections Service through the sale of any created products (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c). For men, most of these programmes reflect the needs of the Fijian economy and focus on agriculture and woodworking, although others such as refrigeration and air-conditioning, plumbing, automotive engineering, and welding and fabrication create a space for further tertiary study (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c). A further programme, open to those inmates who have some education history, allows for enrolment in the Montfort Boys Town vocational training institution (Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c), an early release study programme that teaches similar trades to those listed above (Montfort Boys’ Town, 2019). The diversity of these programmes is beneficial to inmates, as Fiji contains a blend of urban and rural environments, and inmates can be specifically equipped for skills needed in their community (Fiji Corrections Service, 2016). However, their segregation by gender is problematic.

Upskilling programmes offered to female inmates are heavily gendered and reinforce stereotypes of the suitable employment for this group. They include body massage, flower arrangement, skin care and stage make-up, and horticulture (for a full list of the programmes, see Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c). While these may provide an opportunity to some inmates, none of the programmes offered focus on subsistence, a significant concern for those female inmates who will return to their rural homes. Of further concern is the patriarchal ideals of women represented by these programmes, and the lack of any opportunities for further tertiary education. It is crucial that the Fiji Corrections Service creates parity between male and female educational offerings, allow greater recognition of LGBTIQ+ inmates, and provide all inmates equal opportunities post release. Moreover, these vocational outcomes should be embedded within the Yellow Ribbon Project to better facilitate reintroduction of the inmate to their community.

Alongside the aforementioned restorative justice rehabilitation component, the Fiji Corrections Service has implemented the Yellow Ribbon Project (Vuiyasawa, 2009; also, Whitehead, 2019). Based upon a programme developed in Singapore of the same name (Fiji Corrections Service, 2013; Vuiyasawa, 2009), the Yellow Ribbon Project was deployed to reduce recidivism and improve reintegration (see Lees et al., n.d.). The Yellow Ribbon Project provides inmates with opportunities to interact with the public by selling their crops, crafts, or clothes, and taking part in community events such as parades (Vuiyasawa, 2009). At the completion of the programme, an inmate is taken back to their community, which has been educated about the purpose of the Yellow Ribbon Project, where facilitators assist them to reintegrate into the community and a welcome feast is held.

The Yellow Ribbon Project has been considered a success due to a drop in first-time offending recidivism (see Whitehead, 2019), although criticisms have been levelled at the programme. For example, Vuiyasawa (2009) notes that the Yellow Ribbon Project was initiated without consulting the affected communities and is perceived as a means of reducing the sentences of individuals connected to the military or government. Furthermore, certain aspects of the programme such as spiritual empowerment (Fiji Corrections Service, 2013; see Vuiyasawa, 2009) and religious counselling are not clearly defined, and questions remain as to the associated procedures used by this programme (see Whitehead, 2019). This focus on religious counselling can also position the programme as exclusionary, mirroring the problematic spiritual focus of other rehabilitative programs developed by the Fiji Corrections Service. Fiji Corrections Service has further styled the project’s welcome feast celebration after bulubulu to repair village relationships. Lees et al. (n.d.: 9–10) describe this as:

[A ceremony] that welcome[s] the return of an offender to his community. At the end of various culturally informed practices, which included an apology and the offering of kava to the community, a large feast is held. Though helpful to the offender to feel reintegrated, these ceremonies may have a traumatic or otherwise negative impact on the victim.

Echoing the above quote, non-government organisations (NGOs) argue that a welcome celebration held for inmates when returning to the community is inappropriate for gendered violence offences, that the programme has little focus upon the victim, and has led to a decrease in the reporting of offences against women (see Whitehead, 2019). For example, Whitehead (2019: 150) interviewed a Women’s Rights NGO worker who stated:

Yes, so what happened … [I was] concerned because these, they said that, you know, after rehabilitation, you know, incorporating them back into the community, and getting them to lead a normal life. Now I went to a community education program, and after facilitating a training. After three day[s], a few of the women approached me and said, ‘You know, these offenders when they come in the community, they are treated like heroes, they get a hero’s welcome’. You know, the whole village is there, there’s a function and they’re brought in. So, they say, ‘We're standing in the back and we’re thinking he is not back from a war, he’s from jail’, you know. So, what happens is I guess, I mean this my perception is that the other offenders realise that it is not a serious issue. You can go to jail, do what the hell you want to, go to jail, come back and be welcomed as a hero. So, you know, I mean it, it defeats the whole purpose.

As noted above, the Yellow Ribbon Project frames reintroductions through its welcome feast as inmate-centric despite correctional officers being instructed to consider the victim during this process (Lees et al., n.d.; see Whitehead, 2019); A further concern is that the programme is focused on iTaukei culture and traditions, and as a result could be exclusionary to Indo-Fijian or other inmates and communities. However, by basing the ceremony on cultural practices that are included in contemporary restorative conferences, such as an apology, the Fiji Corrections Service has created the groundwork to integrate the community into rehabilitative praxis, albeit through an inappropriate focus on iTaukei customary justice.

Embedding Community into Effective Rehabilitation

Community corrections efforts by the Fiji Corrections Service are limited. Whitehead (2019) notes that these programmes often do not engage with community. Instead, inmates are often required to work within criminal justice environments such as police stations (Whitehead, 2019). A key concern with such an approach is that it fails to reduce community stigmatisation of the inmate as they are not actively working in the community and alongside its members. However, an unexpected benefit of such an approach is to foster cooperation between inmate and criminal justice system and reduce the hostility between these actors. Nonetheless, the exclusion of community from the Fiji Correctional Service’s rehabilitative praxis has further impacts, particularly for inmates from iTaukei backgrounds. Important actors such as iTaukei traditional leaders, who traditionally mediated disputes, are excluded from contemporary Fijian community corrections. As a result, attempts to embed the customary principle of tovo vakaturuga are not present, which creates a further separation of the inmate from their vanua. It is vital that the Fiji Corrections Service begin to integrate customary actors into their community corrections praxis. Through these actor’s knowledge of inmates, their support structures, and the criminogenic risk factors within the community, traditional leaders would provide culturally appropriate supervision and support reintegration (see Whitehead, 2019). There is further space to use community corrections to improve infrastructure in Fiji.

There is a space to utilise community corrections in Fiji to improve rural infrastructure and create important community institutions. Such programmes could develop vital infrastructure needed by the community and embed the support of vanua into community corrections praxis. This approach was echoed by participants in Whitehead’s (2019) study, who noted:

I wish we have those programs, taking back those victims [offenders in context of statement, researcher mistake while transcribing notes] to serve the community. To dig drains, build a church.

Moreover, and despite the previous criticisms of rehabilitative exclusion through religion, the significance of religion to the iTaukei experience suggests the use of community corrections to construct buildings of worship would reduce the stigmatisation of inmates. Such community corrections praxis could also be used to support the current Yellow Ribbon Project and expand the skills taught by the Fiji Corrections Service upskilling programme.

Conclusion: An Inappropriate Cultural Focus and the Need for Change

Wider social and structural issues have significantly impacted the rehabilitative praxis used by the Fiji Corrections Service. It has resulted in LGBTIQ+ inmate segregation, stereotypical rehabilitation and upskilling programmes, and the exclusion of important community actors. Moreover, attempts to integrate customary justice processes such as bulubulu into the operation of contemporary reintroduction programmes have isolated Indo-Fijians and victims. There is also a significant need for more research into the Fijian incarceral experience. Nonetheless, and despite such limited research, the authors can state that a key concern with current rehabilitation programmes is Fiji Corrections Service’s attempts to base these upon iTaukei culture.

While this praxis does address the cultural needs of iTaukei inmates, and early family visits begin to embed the process of vanua into the rehabilitative process, the Fijian correctional population is becoming increasingly diverse. As a result, there is a significant need for the Fiji Corrections Service to design and deploy rehabilitative programmes that focus on other cultures and religions and detail their therapeutic and psychological praxis. The needs of the LGBTIQ+ populations should further be a priority for Fiji Corrections Service. Segregation of these individuals impacts rehabilitation, creates further stigmatisation, and is in violation of their human rights. However, the reintegration of these inmates is more challenging. Christianity and its associated stigmas could still ostracise LGBTIQ+ individuals in various Fijian communities, and lead to isolation and recidivism. While various NGOs are working to support the Fijian LGBTIQ+ community, including the PCP (2021), such societal change will take time. However, there is the space for the Fiji Corrections Service to deconstruct gender barriers through the removal of stereotypical upskilling programmes. The current gendered approach of these programs does not assist women who live in rural areas, or those who would like to engage in employment outside of their expected social role.

There is the space to construct a rehabilitative and restorative approach in Fiji, but this approach needs to pull upon local culture. The use of international programmes, even when localised, fails to fully integrate important customary practices such as bulubulu. Instead, the ceremony has been deconstructed, and the elements that are utilised by the Yellow Ribbon Project create further victimisation. Moreover, the Yellow Ribbon Project can be framed as a politicised initiative that does not mediate customary power imbalances (see Vuiyasawa, 2009), does not create harmony in the village, and does not fulfil the purpose of bulubulu. Instead, it creates an inmate-centric process that excludes victims (see Lees et al., n.d.), could be argued to celebrate offending, and usurps the authority of traditional leaders. Moreover, Yellow Ribbon Project’s overt focus on iTaukei tradition is problematic for Indo-Fijian inmates and other minorities within Fiji’s increasingly diverse incarceral space. Instead, the Yellow Ribbon Project should integrate a dynamic recognition of an inmate’s religion, background, and culture, and use this as a basis for reintegration. Alternatively, and as noted by Whitehead (2019), a culturally neutral restorative praxis would create a space where these programmes could be used regardless of the inmate’s background and reintegrate them into a range of different communities. However, such an approach would impact the significant power of cultural rehabilitation and reintegration. As a result, and while resource intensive, a dynamic cultural reintegration programme would be an ideal solution.

This does not suggest the bulubulu and customary justice is not a powerful tool for reconciliation and rehabilitation in Fiji, and there is the space for iTaukei inmates to engage in this practice. Despite the debates surrounding bulubulu (see Merry, 2004; also, Whitehead, 2019) there is the space to use the original structure of this ceremony alongside the traditional criminal justice system to settle disputes and reintegrate the inmate. However, this pluralist approach should only be utilised when both the victim and inmate wish to proceed through customary justice, or where a non-iTaukei inmate wishes to use this to reconcile in a culturally appropriate manner.

The above focus on culture could further extend into community corrections. As noted above, there is the space for iTaukei traditional leaders to be embedded within community corrections praxis. These powerful individuals would supervise the inmate, alongside reinforcing appropriate behaviour through tovo vakaturuga. However, the authors note this suggestion has an inappropriate focus on iTaukei culture and excludes inmates from diverse backgrounds (Whitehead, 2019). Instead, and recognising that there are important actors in all Fijian communities, leaders from these diverse spaces could be integrated to create culturally specific and target community supervision programmes. Such an approach would further allow community corrections to expand beyond administrative roles within the criminal justice system, and instead, focus on vital infrastructure projects that would improve rural communities.

Rehabilitation is a relatively new focus of Fiji Corrections Service (see Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.a), and as discussed throughout this chapter this is apparent in their rehabilitative praxis. This has resulted in a hybridisation of customary and international reintegration programmes that are poorly researched and designed. A key challenge for Fiji corrections will be growing diversity within their incarceral centres, and a need to design programmes beyond the Christian iTaukei majority. However, these can still embed culture, important community actors, and the needs of diverse genders, but require a firm recognition of such challenges and local research to identify the needs of inmates across Fijian prisons.

Notes

  1. 1.

    Translates to “owner”, which speaks to traditional ownership of the land. However, by Pauwels (2015: 192) notes ‘itaukei ni qele, or ‘original occupant of the land’ could be better expressed as ‘responsible for the land’.

  2. 2.

    iTaukei Customary justice.

  3. 3.

    Statistics include convicted, remand, civil and detainee inmates.

  4. 4.

    More recent reports have removed a breakdown of inmates by ethnicity.

  5. 5.

    Fijian Rehabilitative Praxis is so under-researched that only two definitive sources for this this, Fiji Corrections Service Semper Restituens (n.d.c) and Whitehead (2019). As a result, these are the two citations that will be used for the majority of this section.

  6. 6.

    No information is provided on the contents of these kits.

  7. 7.

    Sentence planning further segregates inmates based upon offence category and recidivism history.

  8. 8.

    For example, the Victorian Koori Court pulls upon the testimony of traditional leaders to contextualise the inmate’s behaviour and any criminogenic environment that may be present.

  9. 9.

    A common rehabilitation model used globally. Lester et al. (2020: 830), note ‘Many in the field acknowledge the risk-need-responsivity (RNR) model as one of the most widely accepted approaches to [rehabilitative assessment and] treatment’.

  10. 10.

    A key socio-cultural underpinning to iTaukei culture, and therefore correctional praxis, is militarism. These ideals have been reinforced through the ‘coup’ culture that afflicted this small island nature and led to militaristic governance of many social institution. The Fijian language is also highly militarised, creating a wider social construction of authority that pervades education, sport, and political discourse (Teaiwa, 2005).

  11. 11.

    Italicised to represent the name of the various programmes (see Fiji Corrections Service, n.d.c). These names may appear informal, such as in the case of the sex offence programme, however their use is to ensure clarity by speaking directly to the Fiji Corrections Service rehabilitative praxis.

  12. 12.

    Christianity is firmly embedded within Fijian Indigenous identities and influences the wider social processes, including masculinity and militarism (see Presterudstuen, 2016).