Journal of Heritage Tourism

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Colonial heritage and tourism: ethnic landscape

perspectives

Joseph M. Cheer & Keir J. Reeves

To cite this article: Joseph M. Cheer & Keir J. Reeves (2015) Colonial heritage and
tourism: ethnic landscape perspectives, Journal of Heritage Tourism, 10:2, 151-166, DOI:
10.1080/1743873X.2014.985224

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/1743873X.2014.985224

Published online: 26 Feb 2015.

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Journal of Heritage Tourism, 2015
Vol. 10, No. 2, 151–166, http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/1743873X.2014.985224

Colonial heritage and tourism: ethnic landscape perspectives

Joseph M. Cheera* and Keir J. Reevesb
a
Australia & International Tourism Research Unit (AITRU), Monash University, Melbourne,
Australia; bCentre for Regional Development, Federation University, Ballarat, Australia
(Received 30 October 2013; accepted 4 November 2014)

The revival of colonial heritage is a particular feature of former British and French
colonies in Pacific and Asian settings. This is exemplified by the redevelopment and
rejuvenation of what were exclusive ‘comfort zones’ for the ‘colonial classes’ and is
central to the consumption of colonial nostalgia via tourism. The political and
semiotic implications of renewing colonial era constructions for tourism are manifold.
The key argument is that this can re-politicise what was hitherto benign colonial
heritages. Furthermore, this can aggravate tensions within what are already fragile
ethnic landscapes. This is especially so when the setting is one where the various
publics have been steeped in economic, cultural and sociopolitical changes, and
where political and civil upheavals are recent occurrences. If the restoration of
colonial heritage for tourism (in this case for heritage hotels) in former colonies is
conducted oblivious to the legacies and meanings instilled in such heritages, the
exacerbation of social and political sensitivities is likely.
Keywords: colonial heritage; heritage hotels; ethnic landscapes; tourism; Fiji

Introduction
Ashis Nandy argues that

modern colonialism won its great victories not so much through its military and technological
prowess as through its ability to create secular hierarchies incompatible with the traditional
order. These hierarchies opened up new vistas for many, particularly for those exploited or
cornered within the traditional order (1989, p. ix)

The vistas that Nandy refers to speak of the new frameworks that irrevocably changed the
way of life for many. In evoking Nandy’s critique, a hybrid approach is used in this article
employing a postcolonial critique, cultural studies and cultural anthropology lens. This
article presents findings from exploratory research conducted in Fiji that examines the
tensions and disjunctures that arise when colonial heritages are revitalized for tourism
and the attendant impacts this can have on ethnic landscapes in situ. It is assumed that
the term ethnic landscapes relates to the dynamics of a racialised context in abidance
with social, political and economic distinctions that are rooted in the colonial past
(White, 2005).

*Corresponding author. Email: joseph.cheer@monash.edu

© 2015 Taylor & Francis

152 J.M. Cheer and K.J. Reeves

Dallen Timothy and Gyan Nyaupane highlight the problematic at the heart of this article
regarding the use of colonial heritage for tourism, suggesting that ‘history has a way of
creating contentious heritage situations’ and that ‘colonialism lies at the root of some of
this type of contestation’ (2009, pp. 42, 43). The revitalisation of colonial heritage aligns
with what Bissell (2005) refers to as engagement of ‘colonial nostalgia’. Such nostalgia,
Bissell (p. 216) argues, ‘is shaped by specific cultural concerns and struggles’ and that
‘rather than evoking commonality and continuity, it works as a mode of social memory
by emphasizing distance and disjuncture’. This is also a reminder that where colonial heri-
tage is used in tourism, it is inseparable from ‘cultural politics’ (Hall, 2009, p. 122) and the
wider political context given the significances attributed to such legacies.
The revival of colonial era grandeur is a particular aspect of former British and French
colonies in Pacific and Asian settings where the redevelopment of what were exclusive
‘comfort zones’ for the ‘colonial classes’ convey fond sentimentalities for some, while
inciting antipathy in others (Peleggi, 2005; Ravi, 2008). A review of literature pertaining
to the implications of reinvigorating colonial heritages for tourism on local ethnic land-
scapes reveals a paucity of research. Accordingly, this article reflects on the inherent
local-level tensions imbued in the use of contested sites of colonial power for luxury
hotel development, especially where this concerns the mediating and overarching frame-
works of fragile ethnic landscapes in a postcolonial touristic context (White, 2005). Fiji,
the tourist mecca of the Pacific Islands region, is emblematic of such unstable ethnic land-
scapes where authorities ‘have cynically used the ruthless politics of race’ (Lal, 2009,
p. 429).
The key question posed in this article enquires: to what extent does the use of colonial
heritage for tourism revive or aggravate precarious ethnic landscapes? This question
assumes cognisance of the central dichotomy of colonialism where competing groups con-
tended for position and favour; such a legacy is central to the enduring ethnic landscape.
Questioning the efficacy of re-establishing colonial edifices raises the problematics of
ethnic landscapes that hark back to a vexed era of exclusion, marginalisation, domination
and exploitation. Such memories are fundamental to the construction of ethnic landscapes
and define the nature of the present context. The lens framing this discussion is the redeve-
lopment of the Grand Pacific Hotel (GPH) in Fiji’s capital Suva, alongside the wider
tourism and sociopolitical setting. Also, contained readings of analogous cases provide a
canvas for contextualisation including the Continental Hotel Saigon, Grand Hotel Calcutta,
the Galle Face Hotel Colombo and Raffles Hotel Singapore.
The construction of commanding edifices during the colonial era, and now monumen-
talised in the present, occurred on imposing, extravagant and grandiose scales (Goh, 2010;
Peleggi, 2005, 2012). Reinvigorating such strident symbols of colonialism is problematic
and can have a tendency to replicate colonial discourse (Echtner & Prasad, 2003). Such
sites of colonial leisure and power were expressions of imperial dominance and stood in
stark contrast to local-level marginalisation (Ravi, 2008). The implications of reviving
colonial heritage via tourism are manifold; the key contention is that this can serve to re-
politicise what is mostly dormant and benign colonial heritages (Wong, 2013). This can
also ignite simmering tensions related to prevailing ethnic landscapes, fostering grounds
for social disharmony, political disquiet and agitation of xenophobic fervour (Crick,
1989; Hutnyk, 1996). In a reminder of such contexts, Dirlik (1994, p. 352) argues: ‘Post-
coloniality represents a response to a genuine need, the need to overcome a crisis of under-
standing produced by the inability of old categories to account for the world.’ The ‘crisis of
understanding’ that Dirlik refers to assumes that the received wisdom that the revival of
colonial heritages is benign at best is an understatement.
 Journal of Heritage Tourism 153

In a Bahamian tourism setting, Palmer (1994, p. 808) argues that ‘colonialism was con-
cerned with power, domination, and control, and with the superiority of one group over
another through the perpetuation of inequality’. Palmer (1994) suggests that in a postcolo-
nial context: ‘The history of the Bahamas highlights the power of the past to re-present the
present, to reinforce the myths of the past through the symbols of the present.’ The Baha-
mian case is analogous to the Fijian and GPH context in many ways, especially in the sense
that tourism is critical to both and the semiotics of development that appeals to the colonial
past is at odds with calls for self-determination. Invoking colonial heritage is part of what
Hall (2009, p. 123) regards as the ‘exoticisation’ of people and place and that such ‘unreal
stereotypical images’ glorifies contested pasts, eliding more serious realities of the present.
The ‘shadows of a colonial past’ that Harrison (2010) described are apropos to this case,
given that re-established colonial edifices can exert and project problematic anxieties.

Method and tourism context

This article was conceptualised while authors were in attendance at the Islands and Small
States Tourism Conference: Current Issues and Future Challenges, September 2011 at the
University of the South Pacific, Fiji (it was subsequently reframed for exploratory fieldwork
in late 2012). During this time, the GPH was a work site with little progress in the way of
substantive structural and aesthetic improvements. Access to the site was limited with the
perimeter of the hotel’s boundaries fenced off. The outward appearance of the hotel was a
far cry from its glorious past with signs of concrete cancer, dilapidated exterior, overgrown
gardens and wire-mesh fencing evident. As a bastion of the former British colonial enter-
prise, the rundown nature of the GPH was emblematic of the decline of external influence;
this reinforced the political setting that was underlined by the rhetoric of self-determination,
nation building and constitutional remodelling.
This research utilised a sampling approach comprising simple random sampling and
snowball approaches. A sample of 16 participants in total comprising five iTaukei (Indigen-
ous Fijians), five Fijian Indians and six Fijians of mixed race was deployed. Participants
ranged from public servants, business owners and professionals. Interviews were conducted
in focus group mode, containing unstructured and in-depth questions and aligned with rapid
rural appraisal (RRA) techniques where the emphasis is on quickly establishing context and
attitudes as part of exploratory research, and as a precursor to more extensive fieldwork. As
Chambers (1981, p. 104) outlines ‘the key to successful RRA is not avoiding superficiality
and error, but controlling them, trying to achieve cost-effectiveness through optimal ignor-
ance and proportionate accuracy’.
Cognisance of the limitations of RRA is assumed as well as acknowledgment that this
approach provides a ‘quick and dirty’ appraisal as a means of guiding more long-term
investigations (Beebe, 1995; Chambers, 1981). Further, a discursive, reflexive approach
to analysis is adopted, drawing on the troika of in-depth interviews, direct observations
and concomitant exploratory field research in Fiji. The lead author has heritage and familial
links to Fiji (although has neither iTaukei nor Indian ethnicity), maintains strong personal
and professional networks and has linguistic competencies in Fijian and Hindi, the key
languages alongside English. Logistically, acclimatisation to the research terrain and
contextual understandings were quickly established given pre-existing familiarity with
people, place and setting.
In Fiji’s case, economic reliance on tourism has intensified since independence in 1970
(Britton, 1983; Katafono & Gounder, 2004; Rao, 2002). However, one of the biggest
criticisms of the sector is that ‘trickle down’ effects have mostly failed to materialise
154 J.M. Cheer and K.J. Reeves

(Rajotte & Crocombe, 1980; Scheyvens & Russell, 2012). Yet as Harrison and Prasad
(2013) enunciate, despite its many inadequacies, tourism remains critical to the futures
of Fiji and other island countries in the Pacific. Tourism’s local-level poverty alleviation
potential is lauded by Scheyvens and Russell (2011); although the caveat is that this will
succeed only if mechanisms that allow significant grassroots participation are fostered.
Similarly, Narayan et al. (2010) argue that tourism will remain a marker for economic
growth but only if it overcomes binding constraints, especially political instability and
weak inter-sectoral linkages. According to Rao (2002), the spectre of Fiji’s strained
ethnic landscapes and political dysfunction will hinder its reputation as a ‘safe haven’
for tourists, as was the case with Swaziland in the 1990s (Harrison, 1995).

The Grand Pacific Hotel (GPH) in context

Established by the Union Steamship Company in 1914, the GPH came to prominence as the
hotel for eminent visitors, including Queen Elizabeth II, aviator Sir Charles Kingsford
Smith and writer Somerset Maugham (Figure 1). On 24 August 1912, the Fiji Times
praised this development (Figure 2):

the construction of a magnificent building in Suva, such as the Grand Pacific Hotel, is a good
augury for the future of Suva as a tourist resort. When finished the hotel will be in every way a
model of luxury and comfort and should compare favourably with such buildings as the Galle
Face Hotel and the Grand Oriental of Colombo. (Figuers 2 and 3)

The construction of the GPH was a hallmark for the setting of British colonial rule, and the
establishment of socialities that placed iTaukei, Indians, Chinese, Half-castes (mixed ethni-
city) and other Pacific islanders in a motley mix of hierarchical, symbolic and random order
(Schütz & Usher, 1978). The GPH epitomised the sight of colonial power and leisure;

Figure 1. Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Phillip at the Grand Pacific Hotel 1953.
 Journal of Heritage Tourism 155

Figure 2. The Grand Pacific Hotel circa 1920s.

exclusive to the colony’s administrators, traders, eminent visitors, tourists and the small
number of Fijian chiefs, local intelligentsia and senior servants of the colonial adminis-
tration. The GPH was likely symbolic of a prolongation of a class system that placed
Europeans and local elites at the apex of a squat pyramid. For grassroots, the GPH rep-
resented exclusion and a reminder of their lowly place in the colony’s hierarchy as is
demonstrated in similar contexts (Ravi, 2008). Socially and politically, Indians were
mostly at the bottom because of their status as ‘landless settlers’ given that land is predo-
minantly ‘native land’ and thus primarily privileged for Fijian use (White, 2005).

Figure 3. Postcard – Poolside at the Grand Pacific Hotel circa 1960s.

156 J.M. Cheer and K.J. Reeves

The decline of the GPH seemingly began with the conferral of political independence in
1970; its location overlooking the Suva Harbour and adjacent to Fiji’s Government House,
combined with dilapidated façade has stood out as a metaphor of the country’s declining
prospects in the late 1990s and 2000s (Figure 4). During this period, the GPH site was
sold numerous times. However, the completion of its rebirth is imminent, with a reopening
set for the second quarter of 2014. Davis (2012) exclaims that:

the Grand Old Dame of Suva is set to become a special favourite of the ‘Raffles Set’, those who
love the atmosphere of the old colonial haunts of Empire – Raffles in Singapore, the Galle Face
in Colombo and the great hotels of the Raj in India.

The articulations of incumbent Prime Minister Commodore Frank Bainimarama are contra-
dictory, emblematic of the romanticisation of colonial heritage, yet at odds given his general
opposition to foreign influence and a nationalistic, pro-iTaukei platform: ‘the redevelop-
ment of this site into a modern facility will ensure, with the approval of the National
Trust of Fiji, that the heritage integrity of this iconic structure, known as the Grand Old
Lady, will be maintained’ (FNPF, 2012, p.15). Given Fiji’s problematic political context
and the enduring iTaukei–Indian dialectic, the redevelopment of the GPH provides fertile
conditions for the fostering of long-held ambivalences, insecurities and grievances on
both sides.

Racialised frameworks
The subsequent vacuum created from the withdrawal of British colonial rule, saw the emer-
gence of local social and political movements centred on the country’s key racial groups –
iTaukei and the descendants of Girmitiyas, Indian indentured labourers brought to Fiji
beginning in the late 1800s to aid the establishment of the country’s sugar industries.

Figure 4. Dilapidated interior of Grand Pacific Hotel 2011 (Photo by Irina Herrschner, used with
permission).
 Journal of Heritage Tourism 157

According to Seth (1991), Girmitiyas encountered an enormous struggle for basic human
rights, maligned by both the British colonial authorities and iTaukei. Girmitiyas were inden-
tured for an initial period of five years with an option for a further five years; after this
period they were assured free passage back to India. However, fulfilment of the terms of
their engagement was relaxed by colonial administrators on account of the utility they pro-
vided. This convinced colonial governors to ‘free’ them of indenture and be granted legal
dispensation to settle permanently in Fiji.
After establishing a more permanent residency, Indians have come to dominate com-
merce and hold considerable financial and political clout (Seth, 1991). This is undoubtedly
what has driven pro-iTaukei anxieties and the political movements that have ensued. The
disjunctures between iTaukei and Indian émigrés and their offspring were exacerbated
given that while iTaukei were mostly ambivalent about independence and embraced the
idea of being British subjects, their Indian counterparts saw emancipation from the
burdens of indentured labour as their means to a better life (Seth, 1991). Seth argues that
this saw the rise of Indian enterprise and progress, subsequently envied by expatriate
Europeans and iTaukei. This evolution has fostered the ferment that actively frames
contemporary national politics and the sociocultural context (Ali, 1978).
Similarly, Walker (1936) contrasted the initiative and resourcefulness of Indians against
the clichéd, happy-go-lucky nature of Fijians. Although characterisations like this can con-
strue an oversimplification, such generalised dispositions are validated given that Indians
and a smaller Chinese cohort came to dominate commerce while Fijians occupied positions
in the military, police and government (Ng Kumlin Ali, 2002). Such narratives are contem-
poraneous and underline the racialised milieu. The political binary pitting Indians against
iTaukei led to the political ructions culminating in the military coup that took place on
14 May 1987 (Bhim, 2013; De Vries, 2002). In ousting the Indian-dominated government,
coup leader Colonel Sitiveni Rabuka expressed the angst of iTaukei concerned about declin-
ing sovereignty; Rabuka used the term ‘Fiji for the Fijians’ to frame the anxieties of iTaukei
(De Vries, 2002). While Rabuka’s actions were internationally condemned, there was
majority support that gave ‘Fijians an entrenched political domination’ (Seth, 1991, p. 6).
Undoubtedly, present-day political ruptures and incongruities have their genesis in the
events of 14 May 1987. Three more coups followed on 28 September 1987, 19 May 2000
and 5 December 2006, intent on addressing the controversial issue of securing iTaukei
political control in one sense, and driving constitutional reform in another. Whether incum-
bent Prime Minister and leader of the 2006 coup, Commodore Bainimarama, can restore
‘democracy’ or not has been a point of contention (Bhim, 2013; De Vries, 2002). This
underlines Fiji’s enduring status as political pariah and perversely reinforced the govern-
ment’s belligerence. Although public disobedience and widespread upheaval has been
largely avoided given the incumbent government’s effective stranglehold on ‘free media’
and ‘freedom of speech’, undercurrents of unlawful treatment and human rights abuses
continue to alarm civil libertarians inside and outside the country (Bhim, 2013).

Contested heritage, aggravated semiotics and the ethnic landscape

In the case of Fiji’s ethnic landscape, the historical legacy of colonialism is played out in the
semiotic of the Fijian ‘native’ or iTaukei versus the Indian ‘migrant’ that has since become
central to the sociopolitical turmoil that has ensured (Ali, 1978). As White (2005, p. 164)
notes, ‘Indians were defined in opposition to indigenous Fijians in colonial discourse’,
and in a contemporary sense, it is arguable that this dialectic remains prominent (Fraenkel,
Firth, & Lal, 2009). White argues that, ‘Colonial policies created separate spheres of social
158 J.M. Cheer and K.J. Reeves

and economic existence for Fijians and Indians in ways that formalized and codified notions
of racial difference in Fiji society’ (p. 166).
The aggravated nature of Fiji’s ethnic landscape is invoked by White’s (2005, p. 167)
comment that under the separate canopies of both colonial rule and tourism, albeit in a
different temporal context, ‘Fijians became the embodiment of humility and genteel simpli-
city, while Indians became the contrasting portrait of competitiveness and rugged individu-
alism.’ Furthermore, White (p.169) articulates this problematic duality via the distinctive
settlement patterns within the physical landscape: ‘Local racialized nomenclature for
mapping out the segregated rural landscape, with Indian rural communities referred to as
“settlements” and Fijian rural communities called “villages”, further bespeaks notions of
Indian impermanence and Fijians” natural fit into the physical landscape.’
In juxtaposing ethnic landscapes alongside the revival of colonial heritage associated
with the establishment of the iTaukei–Indian dialectic, such actions raise problematic senti-
ments, privileging one cohort, while pillorying the other on account of the divisive semio-
tics that the particular heritage connotes. This becomes all the more significant in the Fiji
case where simmering tensions and ambivalences concerning the nature of democracy, gov-
ernance and inter-ethnic and intra-ethnic struggles persist (Boege, Casimira, Ernst, &
Szesnat, 2013). Moreover, such vulnerabilities have become more entrenched given that
freedom of the press and unfettered public expression, debate and criticism are discouraged
by an uncompromising and autocratic military-backed government (Bhim, 2013).

Colonial-era heritage and tourism

Tourism by its very nature harbours the redevelopment of colonial-era heritage, given its
capacity to utilise historical accounts critical to the constructions of people and place. It
is this so-called ‘consumption of colonial nostalgia’ (Peleggi, 2005) that drives redevelop-
ment predicated on motives underpinned more by profit and tourism expansion, rather than
a sensitive and nuanced construction of memory that avoids the elicitation of destructive
grievances, whether they are based on dissonant political, ethnic or religious lines, or divi-
sive ideological and secular interests. In monumentalising hotels with strong colonial her-
itages, Peleggi (2005, p. 264) cautions that:

there is an apparent incongruity in the fact that such hotels provide historical grounds (in the
literal sense of the word) for the celebration of colonialism’s “good old days” even in countries
like Myanmar and Vietnam, where the struggle against Western domination was bloody and
protracted

Such incongruities of contested histories are what make reviving colonial heritage in former
colonies problematic.
Indeed, reminiscences of the ‘good old days’ through colonial heritage is centred on
memories that were the province of the ‘inner circle’ of the colonial regime. As Wharton
(1999, p. 285) argues, ‘the expansion of the colonialist empires of England, France and
Germany provided a new level of security for the Western middle-class excursionist’.
The rejuvenation of such sites perpetuates a repetition of this cycle and risks provoking
a backlash where poverty and underdevelopment coexist alongside political struggle and
marginalisation. Chang and Teo (2009) pose important questions, arguing that the meanings
of the various heritages should be recognized, especially where new meanings and social
identities materialize as a result of and outside such changes. Two questions posed by
Chang and Teo (p. 363) are pertinent to this article: ‘How do tourists and local people
 Journal of Heritage Tourism 159

benefit equitably from the development of creative urban quarters? And how are local
customs, traditions and communities adapted?’
Dinçer and Ertugral (2003) suggest that the revitalisation of historical and cultural heri-
tage for tourism from a broad temporal and political context can have advantages at a
macro-level through the direct conservation and protection of historical legacies, to econ-
omic advantages of employment and enterprise development. Dinçer and Ertugral argue
that such initiatives are vital to the sociopolitical context where ignoring cultural, religious,
ideological and ethnic pluralism can impede sociopolitical stability. Indeed, where political
dissent and social upheaval is a feature, contested colonial heritages may compound linger-
ing frustrations and unresolved grievances. The bombing of the historic Taj Mahal Palace
Hotel in Mumbai in 2008 is perhaps a touchstone for illustrating how enduring tensions and
the tussle for political, religious and ideological voice, amidst chronic security, poverty and
underdevelopment concerns play out.
Revitalising colonial legacies for luxury tourist accommodation alongside contempor-
ary socialities is argued by Jennings (2003) to amplify the revival of French colonial power.
Jennings’ (p. 162) analysis of the former Lang Bian Palace, now the Dalat Palace Hotel,
located at the French colonial hill station, Dalat, argues that the hotel was ‘far from
being marginal to the “cultural politics” of French colonial Indochina’. The revitalisation
of the hotel brings into focus its history as the ‘site where various and often competing
French colonial ambitions, tensions and visions of Indochina itself were negotiated’
(Jennings, 2003, p. 163). Jennings argues that the establishment of the hill station was
motivated by the potential for it to ‘serve as a potential counterweight to, and the corner-
stone of a future alliance against Vietnamese “hegemony” over Indochina as a whole’;
this was a demonstration of French determination to stave off the Vietnamese challenger
(Jennings, 2003, p. 164).
The semiotics and politics imbued in the Dalat case is emblematic of the wider impli-
cations concerning the use of contested colonial heritage for tourism. Reconstructing con-
troversial edifices that embody the struggles and marginalisations of the past can agitate
objections with effect on the sociopolitical and ethnic landscapes. As a mark of colonial
hegemony, contexts such as those mentioned by Jennings are reminders of the losses and
hardships enforced on predecessors. As Jennings (2003, p. 168) notes:

In the case of the Lang Bian Palace Hotel, no elaborate decoding or deconstruction is needed to
discern French colonial fantasies of excess and opulence, triangulations of power with indigen-
ous populations, tensions within the franctured colonial universe, and the role of leisure sites in
reaffirming and reasserting Frenchness in the tropics.

The famous Raffles Hotel stands as a marker for tourism branding in Singapore and epit-
omises the use of colonial heritage for luxury hotel development. Goh (2010, p. 179)
emphasises the contested political nature of Raffles’ past arguing that:

the anxieties of colonial control over the circuits of capital, natives and power were resolved in
the controlled intimacy of homely colonial comfort, where the white woman was the gentle
mistress. On the other hand, the inevitable presence of native servants in the bungalow
needed to maintain the homely comfort entailed an anxious policing of race, gender, class
and sexuality

The contestations that Goh outlines have been subdued in a sociopolitical and ethnic
landscape fortified by unyielding political regimes such as those of Singapore’s inaugural
Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew. Successfully negotiating the evolution of an orderly
160 J.M. Cheer and K.J. Reeves

postcolonial transition is distinctive to Singapore with public dissent generally remaining

benign at best.
Ravi’s (2008) examination of the Continental Hotel Saigon highlights the entrenched
historical practice of projecting ‘colonial desire’ and ‘colonial exotica’ via the medium
of the grand colonial hotel as ‘comfort zone’. Ravi (p. 484) articulates that the Continental
‘continued to represent Western imperialism insofar as it underpinned ethnocentric attitudes
towards the local population’. This was conflated with the goal to introduce ‘European
modernity and leisure practices to the colonies in order to promote and reaffirm European
high culture and imperial identity’ (Ravi 2008, p. 476). Ravi’s analysis suggests that the
construction of colonial era comfort zones was an inherently political show of strength
designed to intimidate and quell local-level disaffection. This raises contemporary import
concerning the sensitivity of consuming and reviving colonial nostalgia where rising
nationalisms and anti-Western sentiment have become resurgent.
Deploying colonial heritages for tourism is illustrative of what Ravi (p. 484) describes
as ‘the repulsion and attraction that the colonial present evokes’. While the attraction for
travellers and citizenry from former colonising countries is typically to imbibe in the splen-
dour of a bygone era, at a local level, loathing concerns the righting of historical grievances
centred on the loss of sovereignty and self-determination under colonial rule. Ravi’s
(p. 485) retort typifies latent local sentiments towards the likes of the Continental Hotel
Saigon where ‘as a guarantor of European values it transforms itself into a club, a safe
haven, where white men in the Orient can savour the refinements and luxury of European
society among their own kind’.
The semiotics and sociopolitical implications of the Galle Face Hotel, Colombo, and the
Grand Hotel, Calcutta, are similarly contentious given the problematic historical encounters
that have taken place. In the case of the Galle Face Hotel, the protracted conflict between
Tamil and Sinhalese factions and its fallout has been underlined by a volatile and seemingly
intractable ethnic landscape, largely a legacy of the colonial era (De Silva, 1998; Wickra-
masinghe, 2006). The colonial heritage imbued in the Galle Face Hotel is alluded to by
Malik (1993), who lauds the charm of the colonial past as its most significant attributes.
In typical fashion, colonial heritage protagonists like Malik, uphold praise for the preser-
vation of the Galle Face Hotel without paying heed to the sociopolitical undertones inherent
in its rejuvenation. The problematic is that in elevating colonial heritages for tourism, per-
sistent and exigent local matters are given short shrift in symbolic, material and political
ways.
The Grand Hotel Calcutta, now the Oberoi Grand Hotel is akin to the GPH, The Con-
tinental Hotel Saigon and Galle Face Hotel Colombo, situated amidst fragile and variable
economic and sociopolitical settings. In mainstream discourse, poverty and Calcutta are
entwined (Biswas-Diener & Diener, 2001; Roy, 2003). The complexities and contradictions
of Calcutta are articulated by John Hutnyk, who notes:

The correlation of Calcutta as a “natural” site for the lending of charitable care, with
the division of the world into developed prosperous nations and struggling “in-need-of
help” places, indicates for me all that is wrong with our current global predicament. (1996,
p. ix)

This echoes with Chattopadhyay (2005, p. 1), who argues that ‘What makes Calcutta
shocking to visitors is that the abject poverty is undisguised – revealed in the disintegrating
brickwork of stained walls, in the exposed life of street and slum dwellers, in the stench of
rotting garbage on the side-walks.’
 Journal of Heritage Tourism 161

Juxtaposing the revival and reinforcement of colonial era edifices that shout extrava-
gance is insensitive to the disjunctures and volatilities of the domestic ethnic context.
Most importantly it elides the concerns of poverty alleviation, well-being and economic
development. While the circumstances between Suva, Singapore, Saigon, Calcutta and
Colombo have many points of departure, what seems inescapable is that the reinvigoration
of colonial-era opulence continues to take shape amidst tremulous sociopolitical and econ-
omic settings. How this is reconciled against a backdrop that is not only dysfunctional but
also persistently hindered by constructions with their roots in the colonial past must be
accounted for, if not in a material and political way, at least in a moral, ethical and symbolic
sense.

Findings
Overall, the imminent reopening of the GPH has generated little outward public debate in
Fiji. This arguably mirrors current pressures that discourage free speech and expressions of
public dissent against the present government (Bhim, 2013; Pearson, 2013). Although the
line of enquiry in this article is not to probe the Fiji government’s stance and track record
insofar as human rights violations, free speech and restrictions on media reporting are con-
cerned, maintaining the anonymity of participants underpinned the ethical approach to this
research. While the rejuvenation of the GPH is not formally linked to core policy, the gov-
ernment’s oblivious stance towards the wider context remains a disjuncture given that much
political rhetoric revolves around reframing nationhood and identity, promoting localised
narratives and symbols, while decrying the colonial past and foreign interference in dom-
estic matters.
Four key themes emerged in response to the research question that was posed: to what
extent does the use of colonial heritage for tourism revive or aggravate precarious ethnic
landscapes? First and foremost was the consistent view that the GPH embodies what was
wrong about colonialism in Fiji, and now perpetuated in the present. The GPH is seen to
represent the idea that the British and Europeans were superior to the native population
and that this presence was part of the broader project to establish civilised ways. In the
present day, the GPH is regarded as making similar overtures, suggesting that tourists,
the elite and the nouveau riche, are the equivalent of the sophisticated colonialists. For
ordinary iTaukei without claims to Chiefly authority and status, and others of ordinary
standing, the GPH is argued to remind them of their lowly rank. This accentuates the
belief that a chasm exists between political rhetoric on one hand and practical support
for their well-being on the other.

The GPH is a symbol of what is wrong with this country. We are putting tourism and the extra-
vagances of the rich ahead of helping the poor to rise. Ordinary iTaukei from the villages
struggle to make a living and the GPH says that for all the arguments made about iTaukei sover-
eignty; this is the extreme opposite. (Participant 7)

For those with Indian ethnicity, similar sentiments are evident, especially concerning how
the GPH redevelopment raises the memory of how colonialists had placed them at the very
bottom of the social pecking order. This is fostered in contemporary tourism where iTaukei
faces and culture are at the forefront of the country’s destination branding; contrasted
against this are the anonymous Indian faces and culture that for the most part are
ignored (White, 2005). In essence, this is representative of the broader political debate
that has split Fijian society and led to the social and political frameworks in situ. The
162 J.M. Cheer and K.J. Reeves

inference is that the GPH typifies the long-term marginalisation of Indians in particular and
of ordinary folk in general.

For those with Indian heritage, the GPH is a reminder that as far as colonialists were concerned,
we were at the bottom. Now when it comes to tourism and in politics, the same narrative is
played out. The GPH reminds Indians that despite the progress of time, their status has not
changed. (Participant 3)

Second, the attitude that the GPH embodies the way that the country’s elites or nouveau
riche reaffirm their positions above the masses for whom the GPH would be mostly out
of bounds anyway resonates. It is thought that the GPH is emblematic of the nouveau
riche’s efforts to reassert that access to places of power and influence is the bastion of
those who command authority in government and commerce. The nouveau riche cohort
were considered allies irrespective of race, gender or religion, meaning that race, gender
and religiosity played little part in the semiotics of invigorated colonial heritage such as
the GPH. Linking status to sites of touristic leisure and pleasure implies that the nouveau
riche ascribes to themselves the same status as foreign tourists and expatriates, and that
their consumption of the GPH experience would provide a supercilious bifurcation that
distinguished them from ordinary, grassroots constituents.

The GPH was always a place for expatriates and local elites back then and nothing will change
now. The GPH is off-limits for the common man and will become another tool to separate the
rich and influential from grassroots. (Participant 11)

The third emergent theme was that overt displays of grandeur and ostentatiousness imbued
in the rejuvenation the GPH, and in tourism in general was asynchronous with addressing
the realities of deprivation and hardship faced by ordinary Fijian families across all ethni-
cities. That retirement funds of ordinary working Fijians underwrote the redevelopment of
the GPH was considered abhorrent and ignorant of the underlying semiotics; Fiji remains a
less developed small island state with the pressures of underdevelopment immense. In light
of this, little government objection to what is considered reckless profligacy was widely
expressed. This was also considered consistent with the way tourism policy in the country
was deployed with a strong focus on the development of luxury, expatriate dominated
tourism. Such views are reminiscent of Crick’s (1989, p. 317) assertion that the consumption
of tourism for many presents as ‘conspicuous consumption in front of the deprived’.

It is ironic that the working man’s retirement funds are being used to create an environment for
the rich and powerful of this country and for foreign tourists. Rather than build monuments that
reinforce colonial heritage, we should be increasing initiatives that support education, health
and other essential services. (Participant 8)

Lastly, the GPH was considered a symbol that would galvanise grassroots attitudes towards
the growing self-serving local elite who use the political dysfunction to further their own
interests by strategically aligning with current government regime policies and tourism
development. Such sentiments resonate with social movements around the world where
the masses recognise that unless they rally against exploitation and the generalised self-
serving approaches of politicians and the rich, the hierarchies of privilege will remain
fixed. Indeed, the presence of international tourists and the infrastructures developed for
their use seemingly fuels local-level alienation and is representative of a vanguard that
merits reorientation that elevates localised priotities.
 Journal of Heritage Tourism 163

At some point, the people, regardless of race, religion or political allegiances must say enough.
Politicians and the rich continue to exploit their positions and the new GPH is a perfect example
of this. The slogan should be Fiji for all, and not just for the rich and powerful or the tourists.
(Participant 13)

Conclusion
In sum, the revival of colonial heritage for tourism raises a number of problematics. As
Stewart Firth (2000, p. 332) outlines, ‘while the rhetoric of decolonisation expands and
diversifies, the reality of decolonisation diminishes’ (2000, p. 332). If conducted in a
manner that is insensitive and oblivious to the historical legacies instilled in such heritages,
this risks the aggravation of tentative sociocultural fragilities, especially concerning the
reinforcement of class, ethnicity and authority. In former colonies, the legacy of colonialism
is underpinned by what Nandy refers to as a culture of colonialism where the ‘colonial
system perpetuates itself by inducing the colonized, through socioeconomic and psycho-
logical rewards and punishments, to accept new social norms and cognitive categories’
(1989, p. 3). Simply considering the revitalisation of colonial-era heritages as a touristic,
commercial, aesthetic and cultural undertaking risks downplaying the wider semiotics
and politics infused in such a project.
In the case of the GPH, the aggravation of the iTaukei–Indian dialectic and its broader
implications for political coherence and solidity is undermined by an under acknowledge-
ment and dismissal of semiotic and political connotations. The country’s volatile context
requires symbolism that imbues solidarity, egalitarianism, pro-multiracialism and effica-
cious governance that rises above the catch-cry of ‘Fiji for the Fijians’. The place and
practice of reviving colonial-era heritages for tourism where poverty, marginalisation and
sociopolitical discordance proliferate must submit to interrogation given the vexing
polarities, inconsistencies and local-level realities that sharply conflict with replicating
colonial splendour. For ordinary Fijians, especially those with Indian links, the ‘good old
days’ as embodied in the GPH are evocative of a period of malignment and immense
anguish. Conversely, for others the GPH is representative of an obvious class divide that
has intensified under the present context of sociopolitical uncertainty.
Nandy’s appeals fittingly bring coherence to the issues of postcolonial sensitivity, objec-
tivity and empathy regarding the practice of reviving the symbolisms of colonial heritages
for tourism.

Particularly strong is the inner resistance to recognising the ultimate violence which colonial-
ism does to its victims, namely that it creates a culture in which the ruled are constantly tempted
to fight their rulers within the psychological limits set by the latter. It is not an accident that the
specific variants of the concepts with which many anti-colonial movements in our times have
worked have often been the products of the imperial culture itself and, even in opposition, these
movements have paid homage to their respective cultural origins. (1989, p. 3)

As Crick (1989, p. 331) points out, ‘The tourist-local relationship is odd in many ways. One
member is at play, one is at work; one has economic assets and little cultural knowledge, the
other has cultural capital but little money’. This can be extrapolated further to take into
account that while one memorialises the colonial past, the other mourns its enduring, bur-
densome legacy. This article implores that one of the many oddities of tourism in former
colonial outposts is the under-acknowledged sociopolitical impacts borne from the employ-
ment of colonial heritages. This is especially critical where the underlying ethnic landscapes
are weighed down by sociopolitical discordances emblematic in particular types of colonial
164 J.M. Cheer and K.J. Reeves

heritages. Whether such disjunctures are ‘powder kegs’ or ‘benign ordnances’ is uncertain.
Nevertheless the deployment and revival of colonial heritages in tourism must, at the very
least, pay attention to the latent, yet potentially damaging, ramifications of promoting ‘the
good old days’. Crick’s (1989, p. 337) caution is instructive and a pertinent and timely
reminder, ‘given that tourism has a range of potentials, it can be a source of social divisive-
ness and conflict’.
The implications of this research suggest that further, larger-scale research into the
broader implications of using colonial heritage for tourism development in former colonial
contexts is warranted, especially in situations where racialised poverty, underdevelopment
and political instability predominate. Pacific Islander scholar Epeli Hau’ofa (2000, p. 454)
argued, ‘our freedom lies in in part in the flexibility in all kinds of discourses on the nature
of our societies and on the directions of our development’ and that ‘the reconstructions of
our pasts are events dominated by Euro-American imperialism’. (Crick, 1989, p. 455).
Hau’ofa’s retort offers a salient cue that revitalising colonial heritage for tourism is laden
with connotations that if overlooked, can hinder progress within the ethnic landscape.
It is vital that tourism development in fragile and dysfunctional sociopolitical contexts
pay heed to the latent and outward symbolism imbued in colonial heritages, especially the
framework of ethnic landscapes that were constructed in the past under what is argued to be
dysfunctional and harsh precedents (Hau’ofa, 2000; Seth, 1991). Under acknowledging the
burden that international tourism and colonial heritages places on volatile discourses and
realities must be given more attention or risk the disjunctures that commonly occur
between hosts and guests in less developed contexts (d’Hauteserre, 2004; Nash, 1977;
Smith, 1977). For a country like Fiji where tourism is critical to its economic prospects,
the question must be asked: to what extent does the endorsement and promotion of colonial
heritages for tourism undermine the delicate ethnic landscapes? In the case of the GPH, this
article argues that little has been done to address such vulnerabilities. To assume that colo-
nial heritages in tourism have benign impacts risks essentialism, which as Dirlik (1994,
p. 346) argues, ‘serves as a straw man, diverting attention from radical conceptualizations
of the Third World that are not essentialist but relational’.

Acknowledgements
The research for this project was partly funded through a Monash University, Faculty of Arts Ph.D.
scholarship, as well as funding from the National Centre for Australian Studies (NCAS) research
support program (main author) and Monash University Fellowship (second author). The authors
acknowledge friends and acquaintances in Suva who participated in this study. Also, thanks are
extended to the anonymous reviewers who were demanding but fair, resulting in what is an improved
final product. Vinaka vaka levu.

Notes on contributors
Joseph M. Cheer is lecturer and associate director of the Australia and International Tourism Research
Unit (AITRU) at Monash University, Australia. He has held teaching roles at Monash University and
Swinburne University of Technology, was Specialist Trainer/Technical Adviser to the AusAID funded
Australian Pacific Technical College (APTC) School of Tourism and Hospitality and has held man-
agement posts in the international hotel industry. His current research interests are sociocultural
anthropology, cultural geography, postcolonial and development studies. His forthcoming book is
on cultural tourism and sustainable livelihoods in the Pacific Islands.
Professor Keir J. Reeves holds a chair in regional engagement at Federation University Australia. He
has held teaching and research posts at Monash University and the University of Melbourne. His
current research is concentrated on regional development as well as Australian, Asian and Pacific
 Journal of Heritage Tourism 165

cultural heritage. He has been a Visiting Fellow at Clare Hall, Cambridge and Visiting Researcher at
the Macdonald Institute for Archaeological Research and also held visiting research positions at
King’s College London and Ghent University.

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