Post-election chaos in Chuuk went under the radar

Is this the beginning of the end?

Chuukese voters cast their ballots during a congressional election on March 4, 2025. (Screengrab)

Pacific Reflections By Gabriel McCoard

For those of us on the outside, the specter of election violence in a place under America’s umbrella was shocking. The most populous state of a nation tutored on representative democracy and civic participation descended into a dystopian nightmare as Truuk Lagoon’s two gubernatorial candidates fought over recounts.

After the close of polls, the stories trickled out: allegations of dueling election boards that may or may not have had any legal authority to do anything; police roughing up the administration’s opposition; social media accounts of hotel desk clerks being arrested for not telling police if someone was a guest.

“Arbitrary detention,” a term the media seems to favor, comes to mind, and I can personally vouch that I would never want to meet the open bed of a Chuuk State Police pickup truck. 

And then, after it all, after the opposing inaugurations, after the Supreme Court hearing whose result hasn’t trickled out, it was over. One of the candidates swore the oath, a governor is in office, and calm has prevailed. Calm for Chuuk, at least.

In the best of circumstances, Chuuk is just short of a full-blown humanitarian disaster.

 I’m joking, of course.

The world that the media didn’t notice.

Read related story

Chuuk election still locked in court

There were no AP or Reuters wire reports of arbitrary detentions on the eve of the recount in a lagoon that China’s eyeing for influence under American military radars.

Outside of a few mentions in Pohnpei, Saipan and Guam, there was virtually no word of anything. I heard about it through random messages and emails —and they weren’t even meant for me.

The media wasn’t alone in their nonchalance. NGOs and their governments didn’t notice, or if they did, they didn’t give any indication they cared.

The Carter Center, famous for election monitoring, didn’t have a single post on its website. The U.S. Embassy in Kolonia made no reference save for a security precaution.

Coming on the heels of shuttering the Voice of America and gutting of USAID, it hardly comes as a surprise that election controversies barely cause a blip. Could it be that most Americans have simply grown accustomed to election results leading to at least the possibility of violence? Questioning election integrity is now standard American play.

At the back of everyone’s mind is Jan. 6, or the image of tanks rolling into the capital of Myanmar, also known as Burma, to overthrow the elected government. Despite the very spirited resistance, that country is mired in a civil war with no faction having a clear upper hand. Meanwhile, China waits patiently for minerals.

It doesn’t take much analytical skill to see what’s going on: an American disinterest in what happens in the Pacific, or all of Asia, for that matter.

Take Myanmar. Or Cambodia. On second thought, the less said about U.S. involvement in Cambodia, the better.

The VOA blackout has already illustrated indifference by default. When outside media—meaning media not controlled by the national government—goes away, national agenda media fills the gap.

Shuttering USAID and VOA, as just two examples, inevitably creates a vacuum into which China is likely to step. To not just step into, but to financially outdo anything the U.S. ever did.

To say it’s shortsighted barely begins to cover it. And I say this as a critic of both USAID and VOA.

Trump’s trade war, his on-again-off-again affair with tariffs that lack a clear objective, only serves to undermine America as a trusted nation.

What does the Chuuk election mean for Asia-Pacific? While political federations often lack a clear understanding of what unifies them as a country, the FSM increasingly looks precariously perched between competing visions of China and America. 

Both Yap and Chuuk have seen secessionist movements in the past several years.

That’s half of the states of the FSM union, even more if you count the population. Half of a nation at least considering the idea of going it alone, or, more likely, finding a new big brother.

Would that invalidate the Compact of Free Association? Could Congress approve—and fund—two new compacts quickly enough?

Would Trump even care?

We’ll leave it to time to answer these questions.

For now, the region is calm. The election turmoil has subsided. The independence plebiscites have been shelved. But the fractures remain. The disenchantment with the FSM that would lead its citizens to consider dissolution, America’s lackluster track record of improving the lives of those who most need improvement, the competing future that China can provide, are the unknowns of that choice.

We’ll see if the Federated States of Micronesia can weather the storm as a unified political entity. In the meantime, America’s Sea of Disinterest and China’s Storm of Ascendance remain on course to smash into each other directly over Micronesian waters.

Gabriel McCoard is an attorney who previously worked in Palau and Chuuk State. Send feedback to gabrieljmccoard@hotmail.com.

Subscribe to

our digital

monthly edition