Digital technologies have come to play a complex role in transmitting Pacific knowledge, offering opportunities while presenting challenges. The digital transition also brings to the fore tensions between imperatives to preserve and adapt cultural practices. Concerns have been expressed that face-to-face storytelling traditions may be lost and that complex cultural concepts may be oversimplified for online consumption. Additionally, observers warn that data sovereignty issues and the digital divide in Pacific communities call for attention to who controls access to digitised knowledge. While the global populations of Pacific peoples continue to grow, statistics indicate a broadening digital divide whereby Pacific peoples, both on the islands and in the diaspora, are disadvantaged due to a lack of economic resources and skillsets to access and develop Information Communication Technology (ICT).

Oceanic Refractions exists as a dual offering. The Oceanic Refractions project realises innovative approaches to sharing cultural wisdom, utilising immersive new media and a dedicated online platform (www.oceanicrefractions.org ) that bridges traditional and contemporary modes of knowledge dissemination. It is an online repository of scholarship on Oceanic ways of listening, reflections on the project itself, and poetry, and it is also a dynamic, immersive installation that invites audiences to “meet the voices of elders from Fiji, Kiribati and Papua New Guinea as they speak on care, kinship and self-determination”⁠2 through 360-degree sonic and visual storytelling.

As a multisensory audio-visual work, Oceanic Refractions brings together an eclectic ensemble of expert storytellers, featuring videography by Laisiasa Dave Lavaki (Fiji), Tumeli Tuqota (Fiji) and Mere Nailatikau (Fiji), and sound design by Joseph Kamara (Kenya/Germany) and AM Kanngieser (Australia). A long-standing friendship turned collaboration; the project began long ago with a conversation between AM Kanngieser and Mere Nailatikau about how to become accountability partners while pushing against the dominant victim narratives of the climate crisis. Strong threads of intercontinental kinship hold together the seams of Oceanic Refractions: the installation collaborators connected Ireland and Australia through Space Forms, FrameWorks, and SmellArt, with support from an advisory group comprising of Joey Tau (Papua New Guinea/Fiji), Fleur Ramsay (Samoa/Australia), Simione Sevudredre (Fiji), and Sana Balai (Bougainville/Australia). A unique quality of this work is the way it embraces the complex interconnectedness of the human experience in the face of the climate crisis and steps into it as a means of truth-telling.

Upon landing on the Oceanic Refractions website, viewers are greeted with a rolling roster of moving images, with tall coconut trees, breadfruit trees, and other native Pacific plants swaying in winds that are sometimes soft, sometimes forceful. Concrete structures – maybe homes – are visible in the background; a power line weaves through the landscape. Hovering above the images are titles of writings, poems, interviews, and other works by artists, academics, knowledge holders, and thought leaders. Refreshing the URL turns this experience into a colourless game, greeting you with a new black-and-white moving image of non-human kin being affected by invisible forces. In a talanoa between Kanngieser, Nailatikau, and me, the two co-founders shared insights into the context that had inspired the creation of the Oceanic Refractions project, as well as their vision for the future. The open-source accessibility of resources is an intentional device that emerged from their earliest discussions, as Amer and Mere asked themselves: “Why don’t we democratise this? Why don’t we take what we’re learning and make it a kind of manual available for everyone?”

The sewing together of audio recordings and imagery that are seemingly related but not location-specific is a distinctive character of Oceanic Refractions: it challenges any part of a viewer that may wish to be spoon-fed with bite-sized context, and it offers an invitation to listen deeply to what is being said. The immersive experience of these stories both collapses and extends time. This dual approach significantly enhances accessibility for Pacific peoples. In its physical manifestation, the project involves exhibitions and installations that allow local communities to engage directly with cultural knowledge in cultural settings such as galleries and festivals. This hands-on approach ensures that traditional methods of knowledge transmission are maintained while allowing for transformation through new media in the physical realm. Simultaneously, the virtual component, which includes immersive digital experiences and an interactive website, extends the project’s reach beyond geographical constraints, a particularly crucial aspect for diaspora communities and younger generations who are more comfortable and familiar with technology-mediated learning. By offering content online, the project overcomes barriers of distance and time, allowing Pacific peoples across the globe to connect with their cultural heritage – at their own convenience. Moreover, the virtual platform can accommodate various learning styles and preferences, offering text, audio, video, and interactive elements to suit different needs. This dual approach preserves and promotes Pacific knowledge and bridges generational and geographical gaps, fostering an inclusive and widespread engagement with Pacific cultural wisdom. There is recognition of the growing urgency of listening – discerning – across modalities; the reality that we live in a world that hyper connects and collapses time through screens. Given the increasing interest in allowing Oceanic Traditional Knowledge (TK) to be openly shared, which is expressed alongside the growing story sovereignty movement, promoted on social media pages and by influencers like Kalani mai Okalani,⁠3 Fiji History,⁠4 Archiveples,⁠5 and Pasifika Visuals,⁠6 the decision to make the works of artists and thought leaders accessible via Oceanic Refractions represents a generous approach. All of the work showcased is overseen by the advisory group, which comprises Joey Tau (Papua New Guinea/Fiji) from the Pacific Network on Globalisation (PANG)⁠7 ; Fleur Ramsay (Samoa/Australia) from Blue Ocean Law;⁠8 Indigenous culturalist Simione Sevudredre (Fiji), and environmental scientist and curator Sana Balai (Bougainville/Australia). Despite the challenges, Oceanic Refractions demonstrates the potential of digital tools to engage multiple generations of curious Indigenous peoples and to extend the reach of Pacific knowledge beyond geographical boundaries, fostering cultural continuity in an increasingly interconnected world.

Data sovereignty, too, is an emerging and critical issue in the Pacific, as digital technologies become more prevalent in the region and mega-corporations like Google recognise its market significance.⁠9 For Pacific Island nations, data sovereignty is particularly important in relation to cultural preservation, finance, and national security. Much of the data collected in Pacific nations relates to Indigenous knowledge, cultural practices, and local resources. There is a strong desire to ensure this information remains under local control, with the emergence of traditional knowledge bills in nations like Fiji⁠10 working to ensure TK is used in ways that respect cultural protocols, but there is a distinct lack of co-ordinated policy across Oceania to regulate the use of Indigenous and Cultural Intellectual Property. Data has become a valuable resource in the global digital economy. Pacific nations are increasingly aware of the potential economic value of their data and want to ensure they benefit from its use. Control over data is seen as a matter of national security, particularly given the growing geopolitical tensions and the ongoing competition between allies and China to secure their interests in the region. With data becoming the final frontier of colonialism, perhaps it will take another ten or twenty years for the full impacts of TK, having increased global visibility with a lack of regulatory policies (not only for data but the environmental impact) to become visible. Yes, it is dehumanising to refer to TK as data. But that is what it becomes when transmitted as digital media on the internet. Thus, the role of accessibility in storytelling and knowledge sharing is crucial. One would be forgiven for seeing the Oceanic Refractions website and thinking that all has been revealed, and perhaps too much – but in fact, a great deal of care has gone into the curation and production of what is shared online. And it is not a finished product but a long-term ongoing project. This is threaded through the way Kanngieser works: “In every interview I do with someone, every conversation I have, I ask, ‘Can this be made publicly available to everybody?’ Have they got their information back in completely unedited RAW files, like transcribed? Has everyone we spoke to got that themselves?”

But what does it mean to make something accessible? Kanngieser offered this insight into the decision-making around the Hawai’i mounting of Oceanic Refractions at FESTPAC, as well as the issue of translation: “One of the things that we spoke about in the installation was subtitles. We decided against subtitles because there exists a particular attitude around subtitling voices with accents voices that are deemed to be from that of a non-English as first language speaker. We weren’t interested in reinforcing that. So we didn’t want it to be accessible. Instead, we provided transcript cards for people who wanted them?”. I was struck by this as someone who always watches things with subtitles on, no matter the accent or language; I grappled with the lack of subtitles, but I understood the decision at the same time. Kanngieser explained further, “Accessibility also has to allow for escape and allow for misunderstanding. And it has to offer different interpretations. There is no exact thing, exact representation.” This is an expression of the well-defined outline of the Oceanic Refractions project’s collective philosophies, values, and ethics, which put transparency at the forefront of their process.⁠11

Fundamental to the Oceanic Refractions is the partnership of AM and Mere. It is hard not to be infected by their compelling passion and light upon meeting them. What allows this storytelling to traverse such great lengths with depth, detail, care, and integrity is the heart of this dynamic duo. The way AM and Mere speak to each other and of each other is with such warmth and respect that it is a joy to witness and learn from. There is a lot to be said about the importance of working collectively to sustain creative practice in the arts sector despite the rising cost of living. The partnership between AM and Mere, as well as the multiple collaborators that hold up this project, are testimony to the reality of a growing methodology for practice in the Pacific region. We see this in Fiji, where the number of dance collectives and companies has doubled in recent years.

With their substantial experience working in arts, NGO, aid, and academic discourses and industries, AM and Mere are no strangers to the deficit and trauma narratives of ecocide; through the vehicle of Oceanic Refractions, they have birthed a call to counter those that are collaborative in approach. There is no room for, nor interest in, the predominant portrayal of Pacific peoples as helpless victims of the climate crisis in this project. Perhaps that’s why their digital platform does not flaunt the bright colours of the islands that are usually seen splashed across international tourist campaigns marketed to foreigners. From the outset, AM and Mere have emphasised that they feel that mainstream media relishes in oversimplifying Pacific experiences of the climate crisis, often portraying citizens as passive victims of climate disaster rather than showing their agency and innovative approaches to disaster responses, which are, more often than not, rooted in traditional knowledge and kinship systems. In our talanoa, Nailatikau shared: “I felt we were being portrayed in a really incomplete way, in a really extracted way, in a way that really wasn’t, you know, feeding into preconceived notions of who Pacific people are, and of what our communities need.” She went on to highlight that it is not only the framing of Pacific narratives that is important but that methodological approaches to telling the stories are key, “I was really asking myself ‘Look, is there a better way that we can actually really enact storytelling in the way that we, you know, has always been in our bones in our, you know, in our make-up, in the way that we’ve, that we’ve always known storytelling to be as a nourishing process, you know, as a way that we pour into each other and get poured into as well?”

As I sit among the contributions of Oceanic Refractions, Gina Cole’s Na Viro floats in the back of my subconscious. A science fiction post-apocalyptic futuristic novel that centres on the Pacific Ocean. In Cole’s vision of the future, her protagonist, a Fijian and Tongan woman called Tia, is the descendent of peoples who did not abandon their island homes as they sunk beneath the Ocean but instead built settlements above the Ocean where their islands lie. They refused to become climate refugees as in the common victim narrative propagated by the media today, encouraged by superpowers in the Pacific like Australia that are forging strategic political partnerships such as the Falepili Union with Tuvalu and Vuvale partnership with Fiji, to create “pathways for mobility with dignity” as Pat Conroy phrased it.⁠12 However, what is praised as mobility with dignity sits in dark contrast to the reality of Pacific peoples embarking on immigration to Australia and New Zealand today. Not one Pacific nation is on the visa-free country list (realm countries of New Zealand, such as the Cook Islands, Tokelau, and Niue, are the exceptions) or even the working holiday visa list. The main pathway for Pacific peoples to enter Australia and New Zealand today are either through the Recognised Seasonal Employer (RSE) Limited Visa or the Pacific Australia Labour Mobility (PALM) scheme (which are being compared to Blackbirding and slavery⁠13 ) or through Pacific specific-visas, lottery schemes with nation-specific quotas.

And yet, even in the face of ongoing gaslighting from so-called developed nations and continuous Ocean grabs, Indigenous peoples continue to shape their own narratives. We see this in the expansiveness of Na Viro. We have seen this playing out when Tuvalu’s government announced its digital replication plans throughout 2023 and 2024.⁠14 We see it as Vanuatu, Fiji, and Samoa call for ecocide to be considered a crime in the International Criminal Court.⁠15 We see it when Pacific leaders from the Marshall Islands, Solomon Islands, and Sāmoa push back against the Western media narrative of drowning islands.⁠16

And we see it in the determination of Oceanic Refractions. Together, they are multiple currents from the same wave of refusal. They are a form of resistance by means of a counter-narrative that heralds a Pacific future rooted in ancestral knowledge. At its core, Pacific futurism, the holistic worldview of this genre of storytelling, sees the future not at the end of a linear temporal progression but as a cyclical, interconnected web of relationships between people, nature, and the spiritual realm. Unlike Western futurism, which often heralds technological advancement and human dominion over nature, Pacific futurism envisions a future where technology and tradition coexist, guided by ancestral wisdom and respect for the environment, with collective well-being valued over individual achievement. While many futuristic visions focus on personal augmentation or transcendence, Pacific futurism prioritises the health of the community and the ecosystem as a whole. This perspective is reflected in concepts like the Fijian Vanua, Whenua in Aotearoa, or Hawai’i’s Aloha ʻĀina, each of which, in their own way, emphasises the inseparable bond between people and their land. Pacific futurists, storytellers, knowledge holders and thought leaders often imagine technologies and societal structures that enhance these connections – such as advanced sustainable farming practices that draw on traditional knowledge or communication systems that strengthen community ties across vast oceanic distances. This unique blend of ancestral wisdom, environmental stewardship, and forward-thinking innovation sets Pacific futurism apart as a vision of the future grounded in ancient traditions and open to the joy of new possibilities.

This is not to say such Pacific futurism is easy. In Oceanic Refractions, where we find a vision of the present, the past, and the future, we also see the obstacles that must be overcome – the need to access funding, to afford equipment, to compensate and find people to learn or pay for the necessary skills – to produce any project of scale, especially one that seeks to match the scale of the ocean. It asks us to open, if not begin, a conversation about what is currently preventing Indigenous artists living on islands from engaging in an ever-growing competitive industry of new media and immersive technologies. Indigenous Pacific artists are disproportionately affected by great financial disadvantage and an even greater digital divide that limits infrastructure and availability of technology in regional and remote locations. This is further compacted by Pacific governments’ failure to prioritise the creative, cultural, and artistic economy. New media software design is Anglophone and Western-centric in user interaction, which makes it all the more necessary to develop policies to regulate the relationship between Indigenous Cultural and Intellectual Property, new media, and digital platforms.

Oceanic Refractions’ creators have demonstrated their commitment to changing the conditions from which they emerged by establishing a trust with their advisory board in Fiji, “offering no-reporting funds to creative practitioners who have no or limited access to government or external funding”⁠17 . Alongside the trust sits their resolution to pay their team members equitably, prioritise Pacific-based artists, offer training in filmmaking and audio production, and publicly archive their recordings with contributors’ consent. In an economy that increasingly devalues the cultural and economic contributions of artists, the timing of this could not be more apt, as the role of Fiji in the greater Pacific region reveals itself to be important more than ever. However, artists are not letting the pace of the government or society slow their ability to create. There has been an incredible increase in independent collectives and companies emerging in recent years that are carving out an arts sector with an identity distinct from what Fijian art has been historically expected to be. Not only will the Oceanic Refractions Trust support local arts ecosystems, but it will also afford greater flexibility and mobility for artists.

The establishment of a no-strings-attached grant for artists in Fiji represents a crucial lifeline for the country’s creative community, addressing a long-standing scarcity of opportunities and resources. In Fiji, as in many Pacific Island nations, artists often struggle to find sustainable ways to pursue their craft due to limited funding, lack of institutional support, and a small domestic market. This grant offers a rare chance for Fijian artists to focus entirely on their creative process without the pressures of commercial viability or external expectations. The grant acknowledges the intrinsic value of artistic expression and its importance to Fijian culture and identity by providing financial support with no conditions attached. This approach can foster innovation, encourage risk-taking, and allow artists to explore themes and mediums that might be overlooked in a more commercially driven environment.

Moreover, this grant takes on added significance in light of the limited mobility afforded by the Fijian passport. Many Fijian artists face significant barriers to international travel, which can severely restrict their ability to participate in global art scenes, attend residencies, or showcase their work in international exhibitions. The limitations on visa-free travel for Fijian passport holders mean that opportunities for cultural exchange and professional development are often out of reach. In this context, a local grant supporting artistic creation becomes a financial resource and a means of transcending geographical isolation. It allows Fijian artists to create work that can potentially reach global audiences through digital platforms or touring exhibitions, even if the artists themselves face travel restrictions. By investing in local talent and providing the freedom to create without constraints, this grant is set to play a vital role in amplifying Fijian voices in the global artistic dialogue and fostering a more vibrant, diverse cultural landscape within Fiji itself.

But what does it mean to be able to foster vibrance and difference in an Ocean as vast and complex as ours? For Nailatikau, this is deeply connected to understanding her relationship with silence and “... recognising that I need to be a lot more mindful and respectful and humble in saying to myself: maybe this doesn’t need another podcast. Maybe this doesn’t need to be another thing that’s contributing to the noise. What is the best and most valuable use of my time and service here?”⁠18

Many say we are in the Age of Noise, oversaturated with content and data. I believe the opposite. I believe we are in an Age of Listening. My encounter with Amer Kanngieser and Mere Nailatikau, as well as the many roots that ground their work, reaffirmed that the rise of Indigenous movements for sovereignty cannot be ignored. People are listening, connecting, and mobilising. Oceanic Refractions – as a project and as a method – offers us many windows into how this is happening in the present and many of the ways that it could happen in the future.