What are forests without rain? What is land without oceans? What are people without agency? And what is the present without a future?
For millennia, Indigenous Peoples, Afro-descendant Peoples, and local communities across the globe have adopted and honored a cyclical worldview. From planting and harvesting to celestial movements, seasonal customs, trading practices, and spirituality, they have grounded their ways of living and being with a deep understanding of interrelatedness.
As an Indigenous CHamoru from the island of Guåhan, I grew up learning from my elders that the concept of inafa’maolek is central to who we are. Translated as “striving for harmony,” the word describes a way of living that is grounded in making good; in ascribing value to community, respect, balance, and reciprocity over and above the self; in understanding that there is more to life and living than where your life begins and ends; and that we are participants in a system larger than ourselves. Our ways of life are grounded in the positionality of connection—in relationship with people and place.
While this reality of interconnectedness is firmly embraced by Indigenous, Afro-descendant, and local communities, many institutions are lagging behind. As a result, global issues like the climate crisis are exacerbated by the perpetuation of fragmented systems ill-equipped to influence meaningful change. This underscores the criticality of holistic solutions.
The role of communities in land, forest, and water conservation
Indigenous Peoples are increasingly recognized as critical custodians of the world’s forests and biodiversity. As of 2017, at least 447 million hectares of forestlands are legally owned by or designated for Indigenous Peoples, Afro-descendant Peoples, and local communities. And where their rights to these forests are legally recognized, deforestation rates are often lower and carbon sequestration greater. With several international instruments finally recognizing this unique Indigenous-nature-stewardship relationship, traditional knowledge and greater Indigenous governance will be key to addressing deforestation, biodiversity loss, and climate change.
Yet even as the climate justice movement has incorporated contours that begin to paint a more complete picture of all stakeholders, research, policy, investments, and actions for climate mitigation and adaptation remain narrow—often adopting a limited understanding of Indigenous Peoples as important for only land and forest management. Significant gaps persist in i) acknowledging the existence of Pacific Indigenous Peoples who maintain unique relationships with the Blue Continent (also “Blue Pacific” or the Pacific Ocean); ii) elevating their voices; and iii) recognizing the critical role they have and can assume in discovering solutions to humanity’s biggest planetary problem.
The importance of forests and trees may appear simple and evident. The importance of accessing, managing, and conserving blue ecosystems, however? Not so much. And perhaps understandably so for many. We live and breathe on land, not water. We grow our food on farms, not seas. And for most areas of the world, connecting with other communities involves traveling across land, not via a transoceanic voyage.
But water is life. And the connections between land and water are not merely theoretical. Plant and water cycles alone show us that a tiny seed can grow into a towering oak tree, and an important part of that process is its nourishment through sunlight, soil, and water.
What is the land-water nexus?
Though the term may be novel for some, the concept is not new. Whether legally or conceptually, the land-water nexus denotes the connection and dependence between land and water. For example, legally recognized rights to community lands or forests can be an essential factor in their ability to claim, protect, and realize their water tenure rights.
For forest-dwelling peoples, this nexus is highlighted by the importance of freshwater resources for their subsistence, health, and cultural vitality. Not only do humans need water to drink, farm, and otherwise cultivate resources for themselves, but flora and fauna also rely on water for growth and survival. What’s more, the density of our forests speaks directly to our planet’s capacity to decarbonize through natural processes. Without forests, we are left impaired in our ability to reverse the concentration of pollution in our atmosphere.
But the quality of our air is not the only consequence of deforestation. And, independent from forests, various water resources are also valuable to the life and stability of communities worldwide.
Enter Pacific Island Indigenous Peoples. The Pacific Islands are home to the world’s most diverse range of Indigenous cultures. Found within the region of Oceania, Pacific peoples live across thousands of islands stretching from Australia and Papua New Guinea to Melanesia, Micronesia, and Polynesia. And while Oceania is comprised of the world’s smallest nations with the smallest carbon footprints, its people are among the most vulnerable to climate change within the most urgent of timelines. They are being threatened with the loss of their people, culture, identity, homes, and very existence.
As seafaring coastal peoples, the Pasifika (an umbrella term used for reference to Pacific Islanders as a collective) are reliant on marine life for subsistence and cultural and economic stability. Deforestation, however, results in increased CO2 uptake by the ocean. This compound effect is called ocean acidification—a significant reduction in the pH of our waters (making it more acidic) that decreases the chemical components necessary to support the fundamental building blocks of marine ecosystems, including seashells and coral skeletons. Without these organisms, fish and other species are at risk with an increased inability to detect predators. From here, our entire food web could be impacted.
This battle extends to questions of legal import on an international scale. Sea surface temperatures in the Southwest Pacific have risen three times faster than the global average since 1980 and most Pacific Small Island Developing States are located where sea level rise is projected to be 10 to 30 percent higher than the global mean.
The consequences of climate change in the Pacific are not predictions of a distant future—they have arrived at our doorstep. The ocean has already begun to swallow up entire countries. The island nation of Tuvalu, for example, is presently wrestling with questions about its sovereignty, national identity, and future. With a land mass of about 10 square miles, sitting at no more than 15 feet above sea level, mere inches in sea level rise would result in Tuvalu’s disappearance.
However, with fading borders and a projected loss of the physical demarcation necessary for sovereign standing in international law, the country is rising from the waters as the first digital nation. The Tuvaluan government is digitally recreating its land, archiving its history and culture, and moving all governmental functions into a digital space to facilitate the governance of a new age diaspora.
Navigating the climate crisis through action
As Pacific Island nations like Tuvalu come to grips with an unprecedented future, emphasis on the land-water nexus and marine tenure will be central to effectively and meaningfully navigating the climate crisis.
In March 2023, the United Nations General Assembly adopted a historic resolution requesting an advisory opinion of the International Court of Justice on the obligations of states in respect of climate change. A result of the Pacific Island Students Fighting Climate Change’s youth leadership and support from the island nation of Vanuatu, the world’s highest court is now considering a record 91 statements, 62 comments, and 107 oral statements from state governments and international organizations concerning:
- The obligations of states to protect the environment from anthropogenic emissions of greenhouse gases; and
- The legal consequences of states’ failure to meet those obligations that significantly harm Small Island Developing States and present and future generations.
Beyond formal measures of judicial accountability, the development of marine tenure systems and placement of the land-water nexus at the forefront of critical policy conversations will be instrumental in securing just and equitable solutions for Pasifika amid the burgeoning challenges of sustainability, energy distribution, resource management, and ecosystem governance.
From the exploration of offshore wind energy and deep-seabed mining to the allocation of blue carbon credits and access to marine ecosystem services, the inclusion of Pacific Indigenous voices in decision-making that directly affects them is vital to both advancing their agency and achieving global conservation goals.
The present moment is an unmatched opportunity to manifest hope and security for the futures and rights of coastal communities. The Rights and Resources Initiative (RRI) is already engaging in this important work: expanding research and analyses at the intersections of land, forest, and water tenure and gender rights; launching its water dataset within the Tenure Tool at World Water Week last year; advancing the Land Rights Standard; and more.
But redirecting the tides of change demands full commitment and contributions from all of us. It requires investments, collaboration, and unity across every sector, institution, and individual. As stakeholders consider how they can best support Pacific Indigenous Peoples in future climate action, I recommend:
- Private companies re-evaluate internal practices that result in net-zero carbon emissions or pledge to adopt the Land Rights Standard.
- Policymakers leverage the knowledge, expertise, and experiences of Pacific Indigenous women, youth, elders, and experts to inform policy reform.
- National representatives commit to clarifying national and international approaches to developing marine tenure, advancing opportunities for Pasifika participation in climate-related decision-making, or legally recognizing Tuvalu’s revolutionary sovereignty claim.
- Individuals of the larger public include Pasifika in climate-related conversations (formal or informal) or donate to organizations that work to secure their rights.
- Students and academics enhance classroom discussions with added perspectives by Pasifika Peoples and their experiences or contribute to research that elevates their positions within institutional frameworks.
While key issues like financing, enforcement, the absence of maritime borders, diversity of water-related resources, and breadth of community-specific contexts across Oceania can complicate the advancement of international law and marine tenure objectives, this cannot dissolve our desire to answer the calls of a planet endangered and a people in jeopardy. Our natural resources are indeed finite, but our power and potential to address the consequences of their depletion are limitless when pooled together.
My vision for the future
The name for my island home, Guåhan, is derived from the word guaha which means “to have” or “to exist.” Guahan can be interpreted to mean “having something (in abundance)” or “that which exists (for all).” It is a testament to the fundamental belief in abundance over scarcity; that when there is an instance of taking, we should embody generosity in return.
Humanity shares in an abundance, unlike any other species. We have culture, creativity, community, and so much more. And for all that we have taken from the physical world, it is imperative that we return to this abundance in doing the work of planetary restoration.
The task that lies ahead is both broad and narrow, overarching and incremental. But it is possible. Through unified efforts and an eye toward lifting up and listening to the most vulnerable among us—our Pasifika brothers and sisters included.
