Prime Minister Eke and Deputy PM Fusimalohi and Officials met with ADB mission team led by Aaron Batten team Chen Chen and Neeta Pokhrel from 31 March to 5 April 2025.
By Melino Maka
Tonga Independent News
The Kingdom of Tonga is once again preparing its national budget for the 2025–2026 financial year, and the writing is on the wall: more than half of it will be funded by donor partners. That’s not a sign of resilience. It’s a symptom of chronic dependency — a condition that has been worsening for well over a decade.
Let’s be clear: this didn’t begin with Cyclone Gita in 2018 or the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. Tonga’s reliance on foreign aid dates back to 2010, when the nation ushered in a new era of democratic governance. Since then, what should have been a turning point for accountability and economic self-reliance has instead led to an unchecked expansion of the public sector, weak domestic revenue, and a growing gap between government spending and economic reality.
This is not just a political problem — it’s a national crisis waiting to unfold. And the longer we avoid hard conversations, the deeper the hole we dig for ourselves.
The Ballooning Public Sector: A Quiet Crisis
Following Tonga’s democratic transition in 2010, each successive government has expanded the public service, often without strategic planning. Ministries were split. New offices and departments were created. Political appointments grew. Yet, many of these additions have little to show in terms of service delivery or national productivity.
Today, over 60% of our domestic revenue is spent on wages, mostly for public servants. The private sector — which should be the backbone of our economy — has been sidelined. Investors face red tape, limited access to finance, and an uneven playing field. The result? A small group of businesses carries the tax burden while the government continues to grow.
But when revenue runs short, as it inevitably does, the government looks to donor partners — not for targeted projects, but for basic budget support. That’s how we’ve come to depend on aid to fund roads, bridges, utilities, wages, and even office furniture.
Tonga SECURE and the Illusion of Coastal Development
The latest example is the proposed Tonga Sustainable Economic Corridors and Urban Resilience Enhancement (Tonga SECURE) project, discussed last week between Prime Minister ʻAisake Eke and senior officials from the Asian Development Bank (ADB). On paper, it sounds impressive: flood protection, climate-resilient roads, improved connectivity between the airport, port, and urban centres. But the reality demands deeper scrutiny.
If we listen to the climate science — and we must — most of the low-lying areas in Greater Nuku‘alofa, including Sopu, Ma‘ufanga, Patangata, and parts of the foreshore, will be underwater within two decades. Sea-level rise and coastal inundation are no longer projections; they are already happening.
Yet, instead of planning to relocate vulnerable communities to higher ground, the government continues to pour money — and donor money — into rebuilding roads, drains, and infrastructure in these zones. It makes no economic sense. It’s like building a house on sand during a rising tide.
We must ask: what are we really trying to protect — people, or politics?
The Missing Conversations — and Missing Plans
What Tonga urgently needs is a national dialogue about urban relocation. This is not about abandoning our capital — it’s about strategic retreat and adaptive planning.
Yes, the conversation will be difficult. It will require the government to engage landowners, traditional leaders, and communities to identify safer zones and co-design relocation strategies. But doing nothing, or pretending donor funding will save us, is a dangerous lie.
At a press conference last week, the Deputy Prime Minister floated a proposal that echoed scenes from overcrowded cities in parts of Asia — that Tonga’s people may one day have to live on boats. It may sound far-fetched, but climate change could indeed force radical solutions.
The problem isn’t bold ideas. It’s that none of them come with any planning — no feasibility studies, no budget estimates, no infrastructure strategy. If we’re going to talk about boat communities, where are the marine toilets, floating schools, disaster response plans? It’s symbolic of a wider failure to plan seriously — we react, we rebuild, and we repeat.
It’s time to stop building seawalls and start building consensus — on where our people should live, and how we can protect the next generation.
Even Donors Are Losing Patience
Donors are beginning to speak more plainly. At the National Development Summit held last month, Japan’s Ambassador said what many have whispered for years: Tonga must make real changes to how it collects revenue.
The comment wasn’t just about money. It was a wake-up call about responsibility. Tonga cannot expect to be treated as a mature development partner while refusing to reform its tax system, allowing elites to avoid contributing, and relying on VAT to squeeze the poorest families.
The truth is, Tonga’s tax system is narrow, outdated, and unfair. Wealth — especially land, commercial property, and offshore income — remains largely untaxed. Meanwhile, businesses are burdened with compliance costs, and new enterprises are discouraged from entering the market.
The Donor Dance: Lack of Transparency and No Accountability
One of the hardest realities we must face is this: each time ADB, the World Bank, or other donors visit Tonga, grand announcements follow — but the details are vague, and the public is left in the dark.
Despite extensive photo ops and optimistic press statements, the actual substance of project agreements is rarely explained to the public or the media. Basic questions about scope, cost, long-term maintenance, or community involvement are often met with silence or deflection.
The media — and civil society — must demand more. Journalists should be asking:
- Which programs were sacrificed to balance this year’s budget?
- What is the real cost of this new project, and who’s paying for it in the long term?
- What happens when the donor money runs out?
Even worse, most major infrastructure projects experience cost overruns, and Tonga has a poor track record of maintaining donor-funded projects once they are completed. Roads deteriorate. Drainage systems fail. Buildings sit unused. This cycle of build-neglect-rebuild is wasteful and undermines the very resilience we claim to pursue.
What Needs to Change — Now
The way forward isn’t a secret. We’ve known the solutions for years. What’s missing is the political courage to implement them. Here are four urgent priorities:
- Right-size the Public Sector
Freeze new hires, conduct a performance audit, and restructure ministries based on merit, not politics. Retrain excess staff to support high-demand sectors like renewable energy, tourism, agriculture, and infrastructure. - Reform the Tax System
Introduce progressive taxation on high-value land and business profits, close tax loopholes, and create incentives for compliance. Make tax fair — not just efficient. - Support the Real Economy
Remove barriers to private investment, especially for SMEs and local entrepreneurs. Promote public-private partnerships (PPP) that share risk and reward. Make it easier for Tongans abroad to invest at home. - Plan for a New Urban Future
Create a clear national relocation plan. Use climate data to map out safe zones. Offer resettlement incentives, infrastructure investment, and community involvement in long-term planning.
Tonga’s Crossroads Moment
Tonga is not without hope. But hope must be built on honesty. The coming budget cycle, the Tonga SECURE project, and the global challenges ahead — from rising sea levels to a shifting geopolitical order — all point to one conclusion:
We cannot afford to keep doing what we’ve always done.
The Prime Minister and his Cabinet have a chance to lead not just another round of donor-funded projects, but a real economic reset — one that empowers our people, supports our businesses, and reclaims our sovereignty from dependency.
That requires hard conversations, harder decisions — and a refusal to kid ourselves any longer.
