In Papua New Guinea’s complex political ecosystem, no Prime Minister rises to power with ill intent. Each enters the highest office with vision, hope, and a sense of duty to the people. But too often, these noble aspirations are suffocated by the murky currents of Waigani politics—an entrenched culture of corruption, patronage, and bureaucratic inertia that has derailed many reform agendas and silenced transformative leadership.
At the centre of this struggle stands Prime Minister James Marape—a man who rose with patriotic fervour under the rallying call of “Take Back PNG.” In his early days, his pronouncements to reform resource laws, invest in downstream processing, and grow the economy to K200 billion captured public imagination. Yet, five years on, many of these goals remain unmet, and the mood across the country has soured. Cost of living pressures, rising lawlessness, and a pervasive sense of institutional decay dominate the national discourse.
What went wrong?
The challenge lies not in the lack of vision, but in a systemic failure to execute. PNG’s political and bureaucratic class has created a self-reinforcing ecosystem of patronage, where access to state resources is governed not by merit, but by allegiance. This “swamp,” as many have come to describe it, operates through appointments of loyalists, manipulation of budgetary allocations, and legislative horse-trading—often underpinned by personal survival strategies rather than national priorities.
In this context, visionary leadership becomes a liability, not an asset. Reformers find themselves politically isolated, undermined by their own ministers, or simply overwhelmed by the machinery of resistance within the state apparatus. The realpolitik of coalition politics—where survival hinges on keeping parliamentary numbers intact—means that even corrupt or underperforming ministers are retained to preserve political balance.
Marape, whose instincts appear grounded in empathy and nationalism, now finds himself caught between moral conviction and political expediency. A leader with a good heart may win admiration, but unless that heart is matched by courageous, surgical decision-making, the rot will continue. Leadership requires sacrifice, and sometimes that sacrifice is political longevity.
Structural Reform or Systemic Collapse?
If PNG is to become the “richest Black Christian nation,” as Marape often proclaims, it must first overcome deep structural impediments. Land remains largely customary and underutilised. Education and upskilling efforts are insufficient. Utilities remain prohibitively expensive, while law and order failures have made private security a hidden tax on investment. Foreign direct investment remains elusive, as PNG’s business environment is seen as high-risk and unpredictable.
These are not theoretical failures—they are practical governance deficits. Addressing them demands serious structural reform, not just slogans. That means liberalising land for productive use, lowering energy and logistics costs, digitising public services, and aggressively rooting out corruption. It also means holding ministers and departmental heads accountable for performance—something glaringly absent under the current administration.
The Danger of Silence
As the country prepares to mark its 50th year of independence, the silence of Marape’s ministers is particularly deafening. In times of crisis, they are nowhere to be seen—retreating into overseas hotels, hiding behind bureaucracy, or engaging in political manoeuvres to strengthen their own positions. This is more than dereliction of duty; it borders on betrayal. The burden of the nation now rests disproportionately on one man, while others reap the spoils of complacency.
A Nation at a Crossroads
History warns us that prolonged disenchantment leads to political rupture. When state institutions fail to deliver and legitimacy drains away, the people will seek alternatives—sometimes outside the democratic framework. PNG is dangerously close to that tipping point. In this fragile moment, rhetoric is not enough. The Prime Minister must act.
If he truly believes in the spirit of a Hela warrior—fighting to defend the land and people—then he must make bold decisions, even at personal cost. Ministers who are complicit in the nation’s stagnation must be removed. Political survival should not come at the expense of national dignity. In the end, it is better to leave office with honour than to cling to power while the country crumbles.
Sir Michael Somare’s legacy endures not because he stayed in power longest, but because he united a fragmented people with integrity, humility, and courage. If Marape wishes to be remembered similarly, he must now drain the swamp—not symbolically, but systemically.
PNG deserves better. And the time for reckoning is now.