TUVALU

Aselu Vaguna O’Brien

From Nanumaga, one of Tuvalu’s northern islands, Aselu Vaguna O’Brien shares a vivid reminder of what the climate crisis means for low-lying island nations. When Cyclone Tino tore through his community, it destroyed a youth hall — a space that is synonymous with learning, dance and culture in the Pacific. The physical and infrastructural damage was only part of what was lost, Aselu’s community also lost a place of community and social inclusion. Just down the coast, a berm built under the Tuvalu Coastal Adaptation Project stands as a fragile sign of hope, holding back waves that grow stronger each year.

At COP, Aselu urges leaders to remember that behind every climate pledge are real people, real places, and futures slipping away with the tide. For Tuvalu, 1.5°C is not a number; it is the line between survival and disappearance. “Tuvalu is drawing the line,” he says. “The question is: will the world hold it with us?”

CANBERRA, AUSTRALIA

Mijica Lus

This four-part series by Mijica Lus, captures her experience as a young Papua New Guinean raised in Port Moresby, her ancestral connections to Sepik River, her experiences with different climate impacts across the Pacific region and finally, the realities of Pacific diaspora engaging in climate advocacy in Australia.

Through the story of Kila, the series protagonist, Mijica explores the physical and cultural ties to place and people, and the severance that occurs due to climate-induced loss and damage.

PALAU

350.org Palau in collaboration with Reng Collective. 

Our history is written on this land.
And with each passing tide, we’re losing both place and pieces of our identity. In one of Palau’s oldest villages, a sacred site tied to our creation story is disappearing beneath rising seas.

And it’s not alone. Across our islands, ancestral lands and sacred spaces are being washed away. Our Palauan climate warriors, alongside @rengcollective and @createbelau, are drawing the line—for our culture, our tradition, and the heritage passed down through generations.

REPUBLIC OF MARSHALL ISLANDS

PAPUA NEW GUINEA

Vinzealhar Ainjo Nen

Loss and Damage in Papua New Guinea is a significant issue that, unfortunately, has not received adequate support. But faith-based organisations, non-governmental organisations, advocates, and activists are already working on the ground to support our local communities.

During our Draw the Line Action, we shared stories from our four regions, Highlands, Momase, New Guinea Islands, and the Southern Region, where each representative spoke and illustrated how the climate crisis is affecting their communities.

Highlands

There is a loss of cultural identity due to drastic changes in weather patterns, landslides, food insecurity, rising temperatures, and other natural disasters. Many families from this region are relocating to major city centres in search of better opportunities and livelihoods. As a result, generations are now being raised in urban areas where parents and grandparents are constantly hustling to make ends meet. This shift has led to the erosion of tok stori and pasin kastom, the traditional passing down of knowledge from mother to daughter (such as the art of weaving bilums) or from father to son about the ways of our elders.

Momase

Food security is a major concern. One of our main national cash crops, betelnut, has been affected by new diseases. This has disrupted a key source of income and survival for many communities. On good days, bulk buyers from the Highlands travel to purchase bags of betelnut to resell back home. However, constant logging, biodiversity loss, insufficient conservation efforts, and a growing population have made many families increasingly reliant on subsistence farming and betelnut cultivation.

Southern Region

Swamps are drying up, and rising sea levels have forced communities to move further inland. This displacement has led to numerous land disputes, creating tension and instability.

New Guinea Islands

Our team expressed through drawings and paintings how the climate crisis, especially rising sea levels and king tides, has washed away customary burial sites. They recalled instances when the sea brought ashore the bones of elders who had passed on. This is deeply significant because, culturally, we draw strength not only from our environment but also from our ancestors, those who came before us and paved the way, whose legacy we honour as a community.

In addition to the artwork, our shirts featured 50 climate crisis effects on the front, symbolising that although PNG has reached its Golden Jubilee, our people continue to suffer the consequences of the climate crisis. Yet, we remain resilient in these times of adversity.

MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA

Netta Maiava

Drawing the Line at 1.5°C: A Pacific Call from the Diaspora 

Malo le soifua, o lo’u igoa o Netta Maiava. Pacific greetings, my name is Netta Maiava, and I’m the coordinator of the Pacific Climate Warriors here in so-called Australia, on Kulin Nations land, based in Naarm, Melbourne.

I’m drawing the line at 1.5 degrees because our Pacific Islands have already lost too much. We’ve lost land to rising seas. We’ve lost ancestral homes, traditional practices, and sacred spaces. And if global leaders don’t act with ambition and urgency, we’re set to lose even more.

I live in Australia, but my heart, blood, skin and hair scream Samoa. Every day, I carry the stories of my family and ancestors. Every day, I feel the pull of home, even from across the ocean. That connection is not just emotional. It’s political, cultural, and climate-bound. The demands we make here in the halls of power, in the streets, in our campaigns are rooted in the lived realities of our communities, both in Australia and across the broader Pacific.

We are not separate from the islands. We are extensions of them. As someone living in the diaspora, I know that our fight is not just about policy or carbon targets. It’s about protecting what cannot be priced or replaced. Language. Culture. People.

I am part of the generation responsible for preserving the stories, the songs, and the traditions of my family. That responsibility is sacred. I see that same fight mirrored here in Australia, in the resistance and resilience of First Nations communities. Australia plays a key role in the fossil fuel industry, which means it also holds a key to stopping the harm. The fight for climate justice here is deeply connected to the fight for Indigenous sovereignty and land protection.

When we talk about loss and damage, we’re not just talking about flooded homes or economic costs. We’re talking about non-economic loss, the kind you can’t measure in dollars. The kind that lives in language, in ceremony, in memory. For those of us in the diaspora, drawing the line at 1.5°C is not optional. It’s crucial. Because once these things are gone, they’re gone.

We have to fight. We have to organise. We have to speak up. Because the world needs to understand: you can’t put a price on who we are.

As we head toward COP30, I’m calling on our leaders, our allies, and our communities to stand with us. To draw the line. To commit to 1.5°C. To demand real action on loss and damage. And to centre the voices of those who’ve been protecting land and culture long before climate summits existed.

This is a continuation of our ancestors’ work. It’s a refusal to be erased. It’s a declaration: we are still here. And we are drawing the line.