Reflections on the State of the Pacific Ocean Convening 2026

Last week, I had the privilege of attending the State of the Pacific Ocean Convening 2026 in Suva, Fiji, organised by the Pacific Network on Globalisation (PANG). Running from 8–11 June, this meeting brought together academics, politicians, civil society leaders and organisations, human rights advocates and workers, and donors. The Convening opened on World Oceans Day – with Reverend James Bhagwan beautifully speaking to the interdependent and life-giving relationship of Pacific peoples with the ocean – but also warning that, “what we do today, the ocean will remember”. While discussions ranged across ocean governance, climate justice, labour mobility, militarisation and deep-sea mining, it was the conversations on Banaba and the legacies of colonial extraction that resonated most deeply with me.

I had been welcomed with open arms – literally and figuratively – and felt this sense of interconnectedness the moment Dame Meg Taylor opened the Convening with a quote from the late scholar and poet Teresia Teaiwa, my Honours supervisor Professor Katerina Teaiwa’s older sister. Across the four days, Teresia was quoted repeatedly – from her well-known message that, “We cry and sweat salt water, so we know that the ocean is really in our blood” to her resonant poetry. In casual conversation with Banaban elder Pelenise Alofa, she remarked to me that everyone seemed to love to quote Teresia, but that no one knew she was Banaban, and that no one wanted to talk about Banaba. But she would.

Pelenise is a powerhouse: not only is she Katerina and Teresia’s great-aunt but she is also the National Coordinator of the Kiribati Climate Action Network (KiriCAN), involved in Banaban human rights advocacy and the Fiery Canoe Foundation, and so much more. On the first night of the Convening, a public lecture was held at the University of the South Pacific, where Pelenise was invited to speak. She powerfully linked nuclearization and the lack of sufficient compensation and redress to Banaban history and the destructive phosphate mining that took place in the Central Pacific. One message in particular stood out, she said, “We talk about phosphate mining but there’s more - the negative impact on us is more than just extraction. It has followed us all the way to Fiji and Kiribati.” I was struck by this depiction of the half-lives or after-lives of imperialism, and the urgent need for the integration of Pacific Studies methodologies at universities to sufficiently interrogate dominant histories and accepted norms.

There was an overwhelming sense across speakers of the importance of returning to lessons from the past to chart new Oceanic futures – looking back to look forwards. Dr Talei Mangioni, for example, discussed the importance of current activists learning from the successes of the Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific (NFIP) movement. Sonia Smallacombe stated that “the Pacific region has been a playground for colonial powers for many many years”. A recurring theme was concern over growing pressures for deep-sea mining (DSM). Having recently written a dissertation for my law degree on terrestrial mining in Solomon Islands under Professor Rebecca Monson – linking a newly introduced Bill to a history of extractive industries and contemporary capitalist desires for critical minerals – I was concerned but not surprised to hear the frequent calls that we were at a tipping point for the climate, and care of the ocean.

What  surprised me to hear was learning about the importance of DSM and critical minerals in the increasing militarisation of the Pacific Ocean and the creation of new military technologies – not just the so-called ‘just transition’ to renewable energy technologies. It became increasing obvious throughout the week that decolonisation, demilitarisation, and denuclearisation are interrelated, and that the siloing of advocates through specific funding is similarly problematic to the siloing of academics between disciplines, and to the very people they write about.

I fell in love with Pacific Studies before I had ever set foot in the Pacific. What drew me to Pacific Studies was the attention to positionality and praxis: here, at the Convening, we could move beyond the spectre of the objective academic, and here we could interrogate questions of not just what we were writing about, but who we were writing for, and what purpose it served. I met several academics who beautifully embodied this message. One such was Claire Slatter – former academic and founder of Development Alternatives with Women for a New Era (DAWN) – who, even in her retirement, was tirelessly working towards integration of feminist epistemologies in social movements.

I am currently writing an Honours thesis on a related topic to Pelenise’s talk – asking how legal and developmental discourses on Banaba and the weaponisation of law by colonial authorities live on in new forms, and continue to impact life across islands and jurisdictions. When Pelenise learned that my supervisor was Katerina, she whisked me away to meet Banaban family from Rabi who were living in Suva.

Talking with former teacher Rubena and Pelenise, I followed their exploration of what is often meant by Banaban justice – and what their vision and definition of justice is. Our conversations linked past and contemporary exploitations, and the disappointing recurrence of the commodification of island and ocean, frequently obscured by discourses of progress.

Ultimately, my takeaway from the Convening and my time with Pelenise is best expressed in her words, “Enough is enough!”. As Jason Titifanue affirmed on the last day, the “Pacific is not a warehouse for the rest of the world”. There is much to do, and still much for me to learn, but I am incredibly grateful for this unique and moving experience, and the chance to hear firsthand from those who have straddled the boundaries of researcher/advocate/artist to powerful effect.