As we honor George Veikoso’s legacy of unity through music, let’s reject the labels that have long divided our people.
The recent passing of George Veikoso, known across Oceania as “Fiji”, sent waves of grief across the Pacific. Whether we grew up in the outer islands or in capital towns, Fiji’s reggae music was the soul of our youth. “Sweet Darling”, “Chant of the Islands”, “Morning Ride” and “Come on Over” weren’t just songs. They were soundtracks of island pride, shared memories and deep belonging. I had the privilege of watching him perform live at the University of Hawai‘i at Manoa in 2017 — already performing from a wheelchair, but undeterred, his voice still uniting thousands with power and grace.
And yet, as I scrolled through the many tributes to Fiji, I noticed a familiar pattern: “Polynesian reggae legend”, “loss to the Polynesian music world” and so on. That label — Polynesian — struck a nerve. Because, as someone from Kiribati which is often labelled as part of “Micronesia”, I’ve long felt that dividing ourselves by these colonial labels — Polynesia, Micronesia, Melanesia — continues to undermine the unity that artists like Fiji embodied. This moment, this loss, has rekindled in me an urgent call: it’s time we dismantled these outdated and divisive terms.
We often speak with pride of being one “Blue Continent”. Pacific leaders, scholars and advocates alike celebrate this vision of unity. Yet, ironically, in the very same speeches and gatherings where the Blue Continent is hailed, we rarely — if ever — hear any mention of dismantling these colonial groupings. It feels like a taboo subject, something too controversial to confront, even in the most pan-Pacific of forums. We chant unity but remain silent on the divisions baked into our everyday language.
Take Micronesia, for example. The term literally means “small islands”. Yet most islands in so-called Micronesia are not coral atolls. Many are large volcanic islands with mountains and dense forests — like Pohnpei or Yap. Only Kiribati, the Marshall Islands and Nauru are primarily coral islands, and thus geographically “small”. So who was this label for? Not for us.
Or consider Fiji. According to the colonial map, Fiji is part of Melanesia. But talk to locals in Hawai‘i or across Polynesian circles, and you’ll hear Fiji referred to as part of Polynesia — because “Fiji is doing well” or “Fiji feels close to us”. The Polynesian Cultural Center at Brigham Young University in Hawai‘i even features a Fijian village. When I visited it, I remember being genuinely confused. Their explanation included deep cultural ties and historical connections — which, of course, are real. But that’s precisely the point. Our connections predate and defy these imposed borders.
These labels were not created by us. They were imposed by outsiders — European explorers and anthropologists who drew boundaries not to reflect Pacific realities, but to simplify, control and categorise what they could not understand.
Polynesia, from the Greek for “many islands” was coined in 1756 by some French writer. Micronesia was introduced by another French explorer in 1831. Melanesia, meaning “black islands” came in 1832 by the same French guy — and is the most racially explicit, reflecting colonial beliefs about skin colour and civilization.
These names were never neutral. They reflect a colonial gaze that reduced our ancestors to geography, morphology and skin tone. And tragically, we continue to internalise them today. They’re embedded in our institutions and our minds. From the “Micronesian Games” to “Polynesian or Micronesian TikTok”, they are reinforced daily. Young people embrace them as identities — mistaking them for indigenous categories.
Worse still, they fuel competition and division. I’ve heard “Polynesian dominance” or “Micronesian marginalisation” discussed as if they were natural facts rather than the outcomes of colonial framing.
I believe this call to action is particularly urgent for our Polynesian brothers and sisters. Some have achieved world-class recognition in sports and entertainment and other arenas, like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Jason Momoa. It might seem a daunting task for them to lead this charge. However, their success is precisely the reason that their voices are so crucial. The visibility and influence associated with being Polynesian in the global sphere present a unique opportunity to lead this vital conversation. By challenging these labels, they can demonstrate that true strength and unity lie not in adherence to colonial categorisations, but in recognising and celebrating the rich, diverse and interconnected tapestry of all Pasifika peoples.
Beyond these broader regional labels, I also feel compelled to address a more personal and equally vital act of reclamation: the name of my own country. We know it today as “Kiribati”, a colonial echo that every I-Kiribati, both at home and abroad, is strikingly nonchalant about. Yet, every single one of us knows our true, indigenous name: Tungaru.
“Kiribati” is merely a localised pronunciation of “Gilberts”, after Thomas Gilbert. Gilbert was a drunkard captain who, on his return journey from dropping off convicts at Botany Bay, merely sighted four of our islands. He never set foot on our shores, yet upon his arrival in England, he affixed his name to the charts. And, just like that, millennia of our islands’ history, identity and self-definition were wiped away, replaced by the name of a stranger for my generation and generations to come.
This profound erasure is why I’ve dedicated a Facebook page Proud to be Tungaruan to quietly and slowly campaign for the return to our rightful name, Tungaru. I understand this might upset some, particularly those who were at the table during the British negotiations before our independence in 1979. Yet, this is a conversation we must have.
This personal frustration reemerged when I watched the 2025 Miss Pacific Islands Pageant speeches back in February. I was struck by how often contestants spoke of unity, yet not a single one addressed the divisive colonial terms that continue to silently fracture us. Their eloquence about togetherness rang hollow when it failed to confront the very labels that undermine the unity they celebrated.
This is my plea — to Pacific scholars, artists, activists, educators and our youth. We must begin the work of dismantling these colonial frameworks. If we truly believe in the idea of a Blue Continent, then we must speak honestly about what still divides us. It is not geography. It is not culture. It is a map made by others, still guiding our tongues and teaching our children who they are.
Let’s teach them differently.
Let us honour George Fiji Veikoso — not by saying he is “Polynesian” but by saying he is a Pacific Islander. All of ours. Because he sang for all of us. Because he reminds us that the music, the legends, the ancestors — we’ve always been one people.
Now let’s choose names for ourselves.
Each Sovereign States in Oceania to its own, thanks very much. Too often only few loud voices in the Region wants to dictate the rules of how each Sovereign States in Oceania ought to be clumped together as this article iterates. George Veikoso is from Fiji. Period. Give credit to Fiji. Thank you. Nothing wrong with that. Our Team Viti do broadcasting in Aotearoa NZ 🇳🇿 under Radio Viti e Aotearoa. Guess who strangles them from using Sere vaka-Viti | Fijian Language lyric songs ON AIR via streaming? Some wannabees tagged Pasifika….. claiming to hold rights to Indigenous Fijian Language Music just because they have links to George Veikoso. Do us a favour and stop morphing us as one group of peoples in Oceania. Each Sovereign States in Oceania is different from another. Let’s respect each other’s space and stop conflating each Sovereign States Identity in Oceania. Each to its own IDENTITY❗️✍️
You are completely missing the point of the article. Nobody here is arguing about whether George Veikoso is from Fiji — of course he is, his artist name literally says “Fiji.” What we are talking about is the music, the naming of the genre, and how it should be remembered.
Fiji’s style of music didn’t originate solely in Fiji — and it shouldn’t be labeled “Polynesian reggae” either — because island reggae is a shared Pacific sound. Its roots are Jamaican, and every island in Oceania has embraced and shaped it in its own way. That is exactly why we celebrate it as Pacific Island reggae.
Your comment sounds unnecessarily divisive and outside the point of the discussion. Please slow down before making remarks that lean toward individualistic, separatist thinking — the kind of ideology that aligns with the Trump-style “us vs. them” agenda. That mindset is not healthy for our region.
Yes, we all have our unique identities, and that is why we are working to dismantle colonial labels like Polynesia, Micronesia, and Melanesia. We can respect differences and celebrate shared culture. Music and policy should bring us together as one Pacific family.
Don’t get snobbish or arrogant about separating Fiji from the rest of Pasifika just because of relative economic development. Remember that Fiji’s development is rooted in multiculturalism — the mix of communities, including Indo-Fijians, has driven ambition, competition, and growth.
This article is about the legacy of Fiji’s music, its positive power, and its rightful naming. If you want to argue about roots, we can talk about George’s upbringing in Hawai‘i, which likely had an even greater influence on his music. But that’s not the point of this conversation.
I support your idea on name tags. For PNG, we should probably rename Port Moresby to Somare City or etc. and also probably change the name Papua New Guinea to other local names like Hanua etc..
Yes, it’s about time! Thank you.
Amota, thank you for the enlightenment. Never knew Kiribati was the local pronunciation of Gilbert. Totally agree. Remove colonial conventions and return to the true Pasifika way. However, didn’t Ferdinand Magellan who described the waters west of the the Straits of Magellan (whoops) as “pasifico” inadvertently name the home of all Pacific people. Can’t win here.
What is a Pacific islander? I think defining ‘unity’ under the chapeau of “Pacific Islander” is misleading and oversimplifying an incredibly complex context. I think the article is over fixated on colonization without considering day to day complexities in the individual Pacific countries. The Pacific is not the European Union where there is binding unity in matters of day to day life. The Pacific is a region comprised of individual countries, some independent. some still remain territories with diverse cultures, identities, social, economic and political making. Let’s be more clear and practical, yes Fiji Veikoso is a Pacific Islander with Fijian descent (I believe he’s a naturalized US citizen also). The Pacific pageant is unique in demonstrating the cultures of different countries. The classification of Polynesia, Melanesia and Micronesia helps us identify geographical locations and similarities amongst countries. The negative connotones about this classification is not really that relevant.
Thank you for sharing your perspective, Jane Smith. The words you used in your comment, in many ways, already addressed the very questions you raised. But let me be more specific for the wider readership. I do not know you, so my apologies if I am mistaken, but I presumed from your name and your opinion that you may not have a deep connection to one of these islands. If so, your reaction to this blog is both understandable and unsurprising.
The ontological and epistemological standpoint from which you formed your opinion shapes how you interpret the piece, and this is reflected in your emphasis on “classification…helps us identify geographical locations and similarities.” Yes, such categories simplify things — but for whom, and to whose benefit? These simplifications are not harmless. They amount to a kind of generational conditioning, and their consequences are profound. The ongoing power struggles over these very labels are clear, for example, in debates about leadership within the Pacific Islands Forum (PIF). Some member states have even threatened to leave, arguing that being labeled as “Micronesia” marks them as micro, less important, and excluded from broader Pacific conversations.
For those of us who grew up in outer islands, away from urban capitals, and were raised with the wisdom and practices of our ancestors, the philosophical foundation is quite different. That is why our interpretations may diverge. In that sense, both your comment and the blog stand on their own and reflect the positions from which they were written.
Have a good one.
Good one.
Thank you!
Hear! Hear!