Geoffrey Caston

He saw the military vehicles rumble off the campus and, having bought vital time, the unflappable Caston set about persuading Rabuka to respect the university’s independence for the sake of the prestige of the Pacific archipelago. It was no easy task. The University of the South Pacific (USP) was viewed as the source of much of the trouble that had sparked the coup. The Fijian military overthrew the government because it refused to accept the result of a general election the previous month that had brought an Indo-Fijian coalition to power. The university was viewed with suspicion because of the large number of ethnic Indian academics on campus. The generals, it was believed, wanted control of appointments and admissions.

Rabuka was charmed and disarmed by Caston’s mixture of diplomacy and flattery and his dry sense of humour. He left the university alone, but Caston took action himself. In an effort to calm tensions between the pro and anti-coup elements on campus he addressed the university staff, telling them: “We have an obligation to try to keep going, as an example to all the societies of the South Pacific of how our values could survive, whatever happened to governments.”

Caston had been appointed in 1983 with a brief to defuse tensions between Fijians of Indian ethnic origins, who made up nearly half the population, and indigenous Fijians, who complained of Indian dominance. Despite the difficult political climate, he succeeded as a reformer where he had failed during a miserable period as registrar at the University of Oxford in the 1970s. In the warmer climes of the South Pacific he oversaw an expansion of the university and fostered greater co-operation with other islands in the region, with 60 per cent of staff representing the 12 Pacific nations who were members of the university.

He also strengthened links with Australia, New Zealand and Japan to attract funding to pay for a library, computers across the campus, a media centre, a gym and even a herbarium.

He was passionate about increasing education standards and nearly doubled the number of enrolments among Pacific islanders. He wanted to increase the number of indigenous women studying at the university and was delighted when for the first time a group from the island of Tuvalu graduated in 1986. When he left in 1992 it was a moment of triumph. His departure was marked by songs, feasting, dances and poems written in his honour.

Geoffrey Kemp Caston was born in south London in 1926, the only child of Reg and Lillian Caston. His chain-smoking father ran a bookmakers that went bust. He won a scholarship to St Dunstan’s college in south London.

After serving with the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve during the war, he went up to Peterhouse, Cambridge, on an open scholarship and took a first in history and law. After a year at Harvard Law School he applied to the Civil Service Selection Board and entered the Colonial Office as an assistant principal. For the next 12 years he learnt the craft of Commonwealth diplomacy and served as an adviser to the UK delegation at the UN General Assembly.

In 1964 he transferred to the Department of Education and Science as an assistant secretary in the new Universities and Science Branch and went on to become the joint secretary of the Schools Council. He was promoted to under-secretary and moved to the university grants committee in 1970.

Two years later he was appointed registrar of Oxford University. Many of his friends wondered how a creative administrator with a liberal sensibility would take to the deeply ingrained limitations of the registrar’s role at Oxford that many dons wished to preserve. Many of his reforming ideas were blocked or rendered undeliverable by the financial difficulties of the mid-1970s. He did not endear himself to the dons by turning up for work in a corduroy jacket and a bright tie, and others described some of his decisions at this time as “courageous”. He was equally unpopular with some students after calling in the Bulldogs (the university police) to break up a student sit-in.

Bruised by the experience, Caston was looking for some kind of redemption when the job in Fiji emerged. He found the island very much to his liking — his only complaint was that the golf courses were covered in large toads.

He had married Sonya Chassell, an American he had met at Harvard, in 1956, but they divorced in 1980. He is survived by their three children: Cathy, a dressage instructor and a horse trainer; Ross, the manager of a technology company in Australia; and Kelty, who sells Christmas trees. His second wife was also American. He married Judith Ruizen, whom he met at a university football game at Berkeley, California, in the early 1980s. She died in 2016. He is survived by his three stepchildren: Seb, who is a writer and editor; Zoe, who is an author of children’s literature; and Ezra, who is an adviser to start-up businesses. His children recall him reading The Lord of the Rings to them while sitting round an open fire. He also staged family debates.

Caston was later involved in promoting exchange schemes for academics and students throughout the Commonwealth. In 2002 he received the Symons medal for outstanding services to the universities of the Commonwealth.

In retirement he would spend two hours a day reading The Times. He enjoyed watching racing on television, wagering 50p each-way bets. Just as in ensuring the survival of the University of the South Pacific, he was prudent to the end.

Geoffrey Caston, CBE, civil servant, was born on May 17, 1926. He died on January 19, 2018, aged 91