ABSTRACT
To take this statement seriously – and I believe we should – we must stop speaking of inhabitability and speak instead of survivability and livability. Survivability is a cold biological concept. A Pacific homeland ceases to be survivable when not enough children are born to replace those who drown in storm surges or starve from failed gardens, as well as those who die more prosaic deaths. Unsurvivability may not become a widespread condition in the Pacific for many decades to come. Anthropologists, geographers, and others have documented the boundless resourcefulness of Pacific Islanders, who have survived – if not as individuals then at least as communities and societies – through all manner of drought, typhoon, storm surge, world war, and nuclear testing. Techniques of food preservation, risk sharing, agricultural diversification, knowledge of last-resort famine foods, ecologically informed taboos, rituals of redistribution, extensive trading networks, traditional weather forecasting, and typhoon-resistant house construction are just some of the strategies. Even on coral atolls, often considered the Pacific’s most fragile environment, it will probably be many decades before it is truly impossible to survive. But survivability is too low a bar to set. We would not be content with mere survival in
our own lives, so it would be unfair to ask Pacific Islanders to settle for such a meager existence. Livability means survival with meaning and pleasure. While unsurvivability may still be a long way off in the Pacific, unlivability, for many communities, may be just around the corner. This distinction between living and surviving will be important as we consider the role of museums in addressing the Pacific climate crisis. First, though, we must query the very idea of a museum.
