When cruise ships visit New Caledonia’s capital, Nouméa, their passengers often want to see the city’s most famous landmark: the Jean-Marie Tjibaou Cultural Centre. The institution, which was designed by Renzo Piano in the 1990s, is filled with exhibits explaining the history of New Caledonia’s indigenous inhabitants, the Kanaks, who make up 39 per cent of the archipelago’s population. The displays are not always uplifting: photos show Kanaks who were displaced from their land after the French annexed New Caledonia in 1853 and placards describe how Kanaks only gained the right to vote in 1957.

Often, though, what is most disturbing to visitors is the sight of the Kanak-occupied shanty houses that pepper the mangroves on the Cultural Centre’s periphery. The makeshift dwellings are a symbol of how pervasive racial inequality remains in modern-day Nouméa and there is a growing campaign for change. For many Kanak leaders in the city (and further afield), a key part of the solution is to sever New Caledonia’s ties with France. This group vigorously pitched their case last November, when the archipelago held a long-awaited independence referendum, but the result did not go in their favour. Of the 140,000 people who turned up for the ballot, 56 per cent voted for New Caledonia to remain a French territory.

Emmanuel Macron’s response to the result was tempered: he described it as “a sign of confidence in the Republic”. Throughout the voting process, he and prime minister Édouard Philippe were at pains to present themselves as neutral mediators. Both, however, are acutely aware of what is at stake: the continuity of France’s strong influence in the Pacific. Don’t consider the matter settled: the same accord that allowed the archipelago’s authorities to stage last year’s vote stipulates the option of holding two further independence referendums before 2022.

Saint-Denis became Réunion’s capital in 1738, less than a century after the tiny Indian Ocean island was colonised by the French to serve as a waystation for ships travelling to India. Unlike nearby Mauritius, which became independent from the UK in 1968, Réunion remains very much a part of France.

About a fifth of the island’s ethnically diverse population of 870,000 live in this colourful city on its northern coast. Dense and bustling, Saint-Denis is draped across hilly terrain; apartment blocks line a seafront populated with joggers and cyclists and elegant villas dot the hillsides. The city exudes Gallic flair with its pavement cafés and boulangeries but the city’s diversity – emphasised by its longstanding tolerance and various waves of migration – is on proud display too: mosques, Hindu temples and churches lie in close proximity to each other and the culinary scene is a real melting pot.

But Saint-Denis is not without its problems: widening inequality, a high cost of living and stubbornly high unemployment have led to sporadic protests that have rocked the city over the past three decades. Most recently the protests against a rise in fuel prices and taxes that gripped metropolitan France spread here; French soldiers were deployed in November to quell the unrest and looting.

Despite these grievances, there is little appetite for independence. That’s not surprising: residents are eligible for France’s welfare system, which is among the most generous in Europe, and the island receives large subsidies. Life expectancy here – 83 years for women and 76 for men – is among the highest in Africa. The poverty and instability of nearby independent islands, such as Madagascar and the Comoros, offer Saint-Denis’ citizens a stark reminder that, while life might not be perfect, it’s preferable to be part of France than set adrift.

The capital of Martinique – one of two French departments in the Caribbean, alongside Guadeloupe – Fort-de-France is the largest city in the French West Indies. Even so it’s not exactly bursting at the seams: the population is a little more than 80,000.

The city was founded in the 17th century by European settlers who built a fort on the site to protect themselves against the Dutch and English (the original Martinique settlement of Saint-Pierre had been deemed too exposed and was subsequently destroyed in 1902 by the eruption of Mount Pelée). Perhaps the city’s most famous resident was renowned scholar and author Aimé Césaire, one of the major proponents of the “Négritude” literary movement. He also had an extraordinary political career, representing Martinique as a deputy in France’s National Assembly between 1946 and 1993, as well as serving as mayor of Fort-de-France between 1945 and 2001 (he died in 2008 at the age of 94).

Today Fort-de-France is principally sustained by the tourists that visit Martinique on cruise ships. Other industries include oil refining, fishing, agriculture and rum production. The city – and the rest of the island – isn’t without its problems: it continues to be reliant on Paris for its economic development and there is a large trade surplus. Despite having among the highest standards of living in the Caribbean, unemployment is high: nearly 27 per cent of the active population was out of work compared with 11 per cent in France, according to statistics from 2015.

The city’s mayor, Didier Laguerre, has promised change. He hopes to entice young people back to downtown districts via urban-renovation projects, including the creation of more pedestrian areas and fresh licks of paint for the town centre, as part of his “Fort-de-France 2020” project. Time will tell whether his ambitious plans are more than cosmetic.

French Polynesia, a string of palm tree-lined islands and atolls in the South Pacific, might seem like paradise but Emmanuel Macron could face trouble when he is expected to visit Papeete, its capital, in March. Last year’s independence referendum in New Caledonia has inspired its fellow French overseas territory to make a renewed push for its own vote on self-determination, even though the archipelago enjoys a high degree of autonomy thanks to its president and legislature.

A major source of grief is the three decades of nuclear testing that France conducted here until 1996. Paris has been slow to clean affected areas and offer compensation to those affected – and French Polynesia’s president, Édouard Fritch, recently caused uproar when he admitted to lying about the safety of the radioactive tests.

Macron’s slated visit to Papeete is timed for an annual meeting of the Overseas Countries and Territories Association, which aims to improve economic development among former European colonies from the Caribbean and South Pacific. Fritch currently serves as its chairman (the position rotates) and the French Polynesian president has plenty on his to-do list: high unemployment and limited housing are the most pressing issues. Tourism is the main source of income but money often ends up in foreign hands. Financial transfers from France make up around 30 per cent of the country’s gdp – and that complicates any move for independence.

The constant tussle between independence and the status quo frames politics here. Fritch’s party, Tapura Huiraatira, wishes to maintain current arrangements with Paris while developing closer regional ties but this can be tricky. French Polynesia was admitted to the Pacific Islands Forum in 2017 even though some sovereign members of the intergovernmental organisation worried about the return of colonisation via the backdoor.