Jennifer Craig and Jay Mok
Our love is what got us through the hard and ugly parts of training to be archaeologists, it is what keeps us engaged in the work (whether we read it, write it or teach it). In the scope of reflexivity, we bring to you, archaeologists – all of you, the realized and the not – that it comes back to the little person who grew up dreaming of working with ancient artefacts that belong to our ancestors. We write to share with you the feelings that go on while we work with people together in places. The people included in archaeology projects are selected partly for their expertise but also for who they are – the vibe they bring. For example, how does a girl from Quebec, Canada, who sought mentors in underwater archaeology but was told by school counsellors this was not a real job, end up working beside the Pacific on the islands of Micronesia with storytellers? Or how does a grass-root girl from the fragrant harbour of Hong Kong, who dreamt of bringing in voices of the unheard ones, end up finding a way to reveal underrepresented narratives in maritime archaeology at the University of Oxford? So much of the literature tells audiences about what we do, and some are so specific that only the very specialized audiences can comprehend. Now, we need these publications as they provide the necessary information to advance what scientific knowledge we know and connect it to the indigenous knowledges that were here for millennia. Nonetheless, we also need to bring the love in. We are here because we are in love with what we do, and like all humans, we are emotional creatures with feelings to share. We share a love that transcends imagined boundaries and geopolitical divides, a love that is foundational for all researchers in this field. This love invites us to engage in constructive conversations and spark intellectual inspiration around maritime and underwater cultural heritage (MUCH). It is this shared passion that drives us forward, deepening our connections not only to our work but also to one another.
The editors of this volume led the Publication Committee for the 5th Asia-Pacific Conference on Underwater Cultural Heritage (APConf 5), the only regional conference of its kind, and soon to be renamed as the Asia-Pacific Conference on Maritime and Underwater Cultural Heritage (APConf MUCH). Adding an extra modifier, ‘maritime’, to the conference name, alongside the new and purposeful acronym ‘MUCH’, reflects a growing commitment to inclusivity within this conference and its associated research community. This shift signifies not only an expanding scope of research, but also a deeper engagement with the study of human experiences, cognitions and emotions in maritime contexts. We are moving beyond the mere documentation of newly excavated shipwrecks to a more comprehensive exploration of their/our cultural and historical significance (Flatman 2007: 82). This shift is why we sought to embrace the human dimensions of maritime archaeology when editing the APConf 5 Proceedings. Building on our selection of Best Papers within the Proceedings, we invited selected authors to expand their short summary papers into full research chapters, challenging them to engage with a set of complex and emotive themes: connection, compassion and community. While we acknowledge the inherent challenges of incorporating these themes, due to the potential risks of overexpansion and the limitations of archaeological material in capturing emotional and social dynamics, we nonetheless view them as valuable conceptual prompts. They serve as a heart-centred archaeology framework for reflecting on the diverse sociocultural perspectives of maritime archaeologists across the Asia-Pacific region, offering opportunities to bridge regional research with existing English-language scholarship that examines the emotions and motivations of archaeologists (see the canon Supernant et al. 2020; and Beck et al. 2021; Berggren et al. 2014; Berggren et al. 2015; Lugones 2022; Upesera 2016). As our chapter’s title indicates, this work is quite watery in both our method (emotive) and in terms of subject matter. We are shaping an Asia-Pacific regional approach that incorporates a watery perspective rooted in heart-centred archaeology, where tides of memory, emotion and heritage converge. But do not assume that because we are talking about water our work is wishy-washy; instead, we guide you to take the perspective of water that all our contributors share: water as a powerful force that has deep knowledge of human (and more than human)–environment interaction.
This collection of maritime archaeology scholarship is a confluence of voices from across the Asia-Pacific, speaking to the vibrant, evolving and deeply relational practices of maritime and underwater archaeology. These voices, from Hawaii/Aotearoa to Indonesia, Japan, Mainland China, USA/Pacific, Sri Lanka, Thailand, Taiwan and Vietnam, are exceptional in relaying the compassion implicitly or explicitly involved in the archaeological work conducted. To contribute to this volume, authors were asked to shape their voices, or those of the communities they work with, into the heart of their research narratives. Each contribution embodies the compassion they have for their communities, often quiet, sometimes declared, that underpins their archaeological work. In doing so, they reflect a mode of practice that is characteristic of our field: we plan by building community, we conduct fieldwork and collections-based research through kinship with the environment and with more-than-human beings, and we publish together in spaces of reciprocity and mutual respect. No other region can boast the breadth of cultural diversity that we have in our Asia-Pacific region of forty-eight countries. Archaeologists and anthropologists alike are engaging with love, emotion, respect and empathy as valid tools of reflexive methodology (Hamilakis 2013; Londoño 2014; Tringham 2018; Skeates 2010). These ideas matter. They make space for our positionality, allowing us to consider how our beliefs, relationships and assumptions shape the questions we ask and the stories we tell. We are, and always have been, part of a practice that embraces inclusivity, diversity and equity. At a time when our peers across disciplines are searching for ways of knowing and being that honour community and collaboration, we point to the legacy of the Asia-Pacific Conference on Maritime and Underwater Cultural Heritage. Over a decade of open-access proceedings has brought us to this moment: the first volume of its kind published by a press. We are deeply grateful to Berghahn Books for helping us to bring these voices to print.
Now, here, of course, you would expect a timeline overview of the maritime archaeology discipline in regard to community collaboration, and we invite this idea for future conference sessions. Instead, we are going more personal. We are exploring two transcendent veins – desire and wholeness. Maritime archaeologists often share ‘a desire to view human societies from the water’ (Ilves, Walker Vadillo and Velentza 2024: 1). We agree, and we expand on this desire to include ‘more of the environment, more human beings, etc. [This] puts people in a state of greater connectedness with their environment, and encourages a sense of wholeness they may not otherwise have’ (Reed 1991). That wholeness is the feeling we all desire. Psychologists and social workers posit that ‘compassion can be that positive force that promotes development of wholeness and wellbeing’ (Samardzich 2016; and many examples in Brown 2015). Succinctly, we desire wholeness. In English-language terminology this archaeology practice is known as ‘heart-centred archaeology’. Heart-centred archaeology ‘emphasizes care, emotion, relation, and rigor in archaeological practice, aiming for a more respectful, relational, and inclusive approach that considers the emotional and relational dimensions of the work, while still maintaining intellectual and ethical rigor’ (Supernant 2022). As an example, we offer co-editor Jennifer Craig’s (2021) voyage to the guidance of Kisha Supernant et al.’s (2020, passim) work in heart-centred archaeology.
Jennifer Craig’s heart-centred archaeology methodology borrows Supernant’s Indigenous Feminist approach to searching fields and geospatial data for the missing and murdered children of the Indian residential boarding schools of Canada, only Craig applies it to collections-based research. She has been working with collections since 2012 when she was invited to the Western Australia Maritime Museum’s Department of Maritime Archaeology’s Shipwreck Galleries to inventory and digitize collections. To get to the point of even writing the grant proposal (awarded after the second round of application) Jennifer had undergone a transformational experience at the water’s edge of a Lithuanian lacustrine excavation (see Menotti and Pranckėnaitė 2008; Menotti 2004, 2012; Menotti and O’Sullivan 2013; Pranckėnaitė 2014). After more than a decade of scuba diving on shipwrecks and sunken cities, she had fluency in the nuanced communication of submerged material remains, and at the first excavation of an intact woven basket dated to the Bronze Age (9,000 to 11,000 years old) her transcendence unfolded. The basket was carefully excavated from the forested lake’s sediments, scooped carefully into a green Tupperware bowl, and then transported in a flat-bottom barge to be handed over at the shore’s edge from the hands of the excavation archaeologists (herself included) to the museum curator/registrar. At that moment of handover, the basket whispered ‘follow me’. The linearity of objects entering collections to never be visited again seemed a stark ending without wholeness, yet Jennifer sought reciprocity of the archaeological process. She has since entered the rooms of hundreds of thousands of objects and belongings, their untold stories now housed in collections. She has worked in several collections seeking to connect past human experiences over vast bodies of water (Craig 2021, 2022; Craig and Dussubieux 2022; Pham, Craig and Walker Vadillo 2021), but it was not until Supernant’s work was published that Jennifer was guided by ancestors back to First Nations peoples experiences in Canada. Intuitive guidance led her to the methodology of collections-based research with heart-centred archaeology practices. At this point the opportunity to work with oral histories of wartime experiences in the collections of the United States of America National Park Service presented itself. Now, as she experiences daily compassion for the stories within the collections, and works with communities to share the stories, through her labour of love she has reached a sense of wholeness via connection; we must feel compassion, which is only possible when community teaches us empathy (Brown 2021; Smith 2016).
Empathy can lead to change. The change we actioned here in our labour of love, this book, is the heart-centred archaeology approach to the process of content facilitation. Having desire and wholeness guiding towards empathy and change, this volume is shaped heavily by commitment to connection, compassion and community, ensuring that each contributor, regardless of background, language, or institutional affiliation, is respected, heard and valued. Our editorial process is not merely a task of refining academic arguments for the sake of scholarly rigour. It is about making space for local, embodied and ancestral knowledge systems to speak in their own terms (Hau’ofa 2008; Little 2023; Mahuka 2019; Supernant et al. 2020; Wilson 2008; Wilson-Hokowhitu 2019). This knowledge need not conform to dominant epistemologies or frameworks rooted in Western systems of classification and recognition (Smith 1999: 49–65; Hall 1992: 276–320). Linda Tuhiwai Smith, in her book Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples (Bloomsbury, 2021), identifies the many intersectional layers that structure what counts as legitimate knowledge: legal frameworks inherited from colonial regimes, the privileging of textual authority over oral testimony, standardized notions of evidence and science, and deeply held assumptions about time, subjectivity and human nature (Smith 1999: 49–54). These frameworks not only determine who may speak but also whose words are given weight, and whose truths are recognized. In maritime archaeology, there too have been enduring frameworks such as the land–water dichotomy and maritime cultural landscapes (Westerdahl 2012), which some have argued have reinforced divisions and not wholeness. Tuddenham questioned, ‘Does the maritime cultural landscape as a concept bridge a division between land and sea, or does it maintain a gap that perhaps doesn’t even exist?’ (Tuddenham 2010: 5–6). He noted that the land–sea distinction often parallels the nature–culture dichotomy, relying on similar problematic ‘sorting’ mechanisms (ibid.: 10–11). His observations remind us of the need to appreciate the inherently intersectional and heterogeneous nature of maritime cultures. Similarly, Campbell’s work on flat ontologies challenges the long-standing neglect of the sea’s agency in shaping human behaviours (see Rich and Campbell 2023). In response to such colonial frameworks, we are taking the call to action requested of our APConf 5 keynote speaker Nālani Wilson-Horowhitu to engage the connectedness of human and more-than-human relationships, Mana Wāhine, Indigenous and Pacific feminisms, epistemologies, and ontologies that inform critical, innovative and transformative futurities. Our Asia-Pacific region is connected by water; our maritime realities are inherently inclusive, dynamic and whole. In no way is the ocean or water a ‘hyperobject’ (Campbell 2020: 207–25), but is, in its own right, a more-than-human being that inspires us to feel and be openly emotive. In other words, rather than perpetuating a typical land–water or nature–nurture dichotomy (Tuddenham 2010: 5–16), our approach sits with the Indigenous Pasifika way of being and knowing that recognizes not just water’s power to shape human emotions and lived realities, but also the emotions itself shaping the waters (i.e. Etherington 2020; Hau’ofa 1994; Mahuika 2019; Vunidilo 2024; Wilson-Hokowhitu 2019). Similar to how these cultures talk story in oral histories, we incorporated this deep listening with our contributors. We performed in editing with watery intention, nurtured with care, and honoured the wide spectrum of positionalities that informed the scholarship presented in this volume. This watery perspective to editing is a conscious methodological stance that prioritizes love over domination, relationship over reduction, and care over conquest.
Special mention must be given to the new generation of early career researchers, working alongside established colleagues who have long embraced community-centred worldviews but are, for the first time, openly discussing their work and emotions as a true ‘labour of love’. Our co-editor, Jay, sees the critical component of content editing and translation as a process of thermometerizing feelings (this also aligns with the ‘ribbon skirt framework’ of Patterson et al. 2023). The process of editing and translation acts as our thermometer: a sensitive tool for detecting the emotions, moods and feelings that are usually discouraged, hence buried and sunken into the water. We cultivate the conditions necessary for introducing the real fruits of such a labour of love: the courage to ask emotive questions that nourish archaeological interpretation, fieldwork practices, and the emergence of theoretical contributions rooted in the Asia-Pacific region. The process of translation, in particular, is no longer just a technical process, but a deeply emotional act that actively shapes how knowledge and emotions are produced, transmitted and received. Drawing on Mona Baker’s narrative theory (2006) and Tarek Shamma’s postcolonial approaches to translation (2018), Jay considers the process of translation to be used to promote alternative or less dominant narratives. This is particularly relevant in maritime archaeology and the studies of underwater cultural heritage (UCH), where the field’s dominant voices have often been mediated through English-language scholarship, sidelining localized, non-English languages’ epistemologies and linguistic nuances. As part of the process of thermometerizing feelings, which can be compared with ‘yarning’ (Anderson, Hamilton and Barker 2018), we acknowledge the power asymmetries embedded in the act of translation itself. As editors, we see ourselves not just as people who refine and standardize content but as active participants in mitigating the power dynamics inherent in translation and content editing. Rather than prioritizing fluency and readability in English at the expense of conceptual accuracy, we have repeatedly encouraged contributors to reflect on how their jargons, terms, and culturally specific meanings are being rendered, and arguably ruptured, in English. We stitch ruptured meanings back into wholeness by allowing, and even encouraging, the retention of phrasing within the text. Pointedly, we keep original phrasing presented in brackets, alongside its English translation. While conventional academic editing often favours a streamlined English-only presentation removing local names, terms, and culturally rich references for the sake of uniformity, we have chosen instead to honour the complexity and layered positionalities within each contribution.
Our heart-centred archaeology approach to the process of content facilitation is a practical means of thermometerizing written work. It invites us to attune ourselves to the voices of Asia-Pacific maritime archaeology, and that involves identifying how scholars, practitioners and communities articulate their histories, experiences and perspectives (Colwell-Chanthaphonh and Ferguson 2006: 129; Flatman 2007: 85). Voices are the living threads of connection between people, places and pasts woven through language, silence, emotion, and the embodied knowledge that heart-centred archaeology seeks to honour. Voices emerge through local terminologies, oral traditions, historical records, material culture interpretations, and even the structural choices made in translation. By listening through this broader lens, we begin to reconstruct a more inclusive and diversified ‘voicescape’ that reflects the region’s diverse and interconnected epistemologies (i.e. ‘braiding’ in North America – Kimmerer 2015; Miller, Pestrikoff and Swenson 2025).
Building on Jay’s work on the voicescape of women archaeologists in Vietnam and Myanmar (Mok et al., 2025; Mok, in press) and Crenshaw’s insight on intersectional inequalities (1989, 1991), we recognize that voices are not limited to audible words. They also live within the structural systems of marginalization, enabling under citation, omission, as well as the pauses and hesitations that haunt academic discourse. As Spivak writes, ‘the task of the translator is to facilitate this love between the original and its shadow, a love that permits fraying’ (Spivak 2008: 202). In honouring this fragile love, we resist the impulse to universalize knowledge production in English and instead amplify the vibrancy of voices and epistemologies that originate from the region itself. A critical part of this commitment, practically, was creating a safe space: the conditions where scholars from non-English-speaking worlds could contribute meaningfully, without fear of being diminished or mistranslated. Our contributors understand intimately the experience of ‘being translated’ not only in their words, but their names, titles, logics and worldviews, all subjected to processes that too often flatten or misrepresent them for a global audience. We recognize the risks of ‘lost in translation’, not just in the language sense but the risk of the more unique/complex, localized knowledge systems being flattened, misrepresented or subsumed under the hands of an editor. The frustrations of seeing one’s work reshaped, ‘corrected’, or softened to fit the rigid grammar and expectations of English-language publication can feel like an act of small violence. Our reluctance to conform to rigid linguistic expectations, coupled with the challenge of preserving authenticity in translation, may explain why volumes like this remain rare in academic publishing.
Throughout this volume, we communicated with our contributors in an invitational, empathetic spirit, nurturing the many different voices that emerge when knowledge is shared across cultures, languages, and life experiences. At times, this meant stepping into acts of deep compassion: when one contributor, nearly blind after eye surgery, needed support, our co-editor Jay moved with a labour of love to help to complete their chapter; when another faced profound personal shifts, Jennifer offered gentle encouragement rooted in care and trust. In every interaction, we listened for the quiet undertones, of hope, of struggle, of desire, that often go unheard in traditional editorial processes. We encouraged contributors to speak in the language closest to their hearts, knowing that voices are not only carried by words but also by the textures of feeling, memory and belonging. Instead of streamlining differences, we honoured them, recognizing that wholeness is not found in uniformity, but in the symphony of distinct expressions woven together. This heart-centred archaeology approach is grounded in a deep desire to nurture relationships over reduction, love over authority, and wholeness over fragmentation. Compassion and reflexivity became our guides, inviting each voice to exist fully, without the need to conform or translate away its complexity. This decision reflects our broader effort to resist linguistic erasure and to affirm the richness of diverse epistemologies – our heart-centred approach to wholeness.
Weaving all the threads into this volume, we reimagined the editorial process itself as an act of care. We made exceptions, offered additional rounds of editing, and adjusted conventional structures to ensure that contributors felt supported rather than scrutinized. Instead of forcing conformity to rigid academic expectations, we nurtured a watery environment, where scholars could write in ways that felt true to their experiences, emotions and identities. We invited our authors into community with us. By connecting to them personally we could feel compassion when they expressed a need for support. To our authors, we thank you, si yu’os ma’åse, ඉස්තුති, merci beaucoup, 谢谢, 多謝嗮, Cảm ơn, ありがとうございます, Terima kasih, ขอบคุณ, mahalo.
The research presented in this volume reflects a diverse range of perspectives and experiences, all united by a common thread: a profound love for maritime cultural heritage. This love is not limited to the archaeologists but extends to the communities who live with and cherish these cultural resources daily. By highlighting this shared passion, the volume aims to foster a greater understanding and appreciation of the collective and collaborative nature of maritime archaeology. The chapters also bring to light the emotional dimensions of archaeological work, a topic often overlooked in academic discourse. The feelings of maritime archaeologists, their passion, dedication and sometimes frustration, are integral to the narrative of maritime cultural heritage preservation. This volume argues for a more inclusive understanding of archaeological work, one that embraces the emotional labour and the deep connections that archaeologists form with their subject matter and with the communities they work alongside.
We recognize and appreciate the community’s role in the development of maritime archaeology. All too often, the contributions of local communities remain unacknowledged, despite their invaluable support and collaboration. This volume seeks to rectify this oversight by celebrating the collective effort that drives maritime archaeological research. It emphasizes the moral imperative to acknowledge and credit the emotional and practical support that communities provide, which is crucial to the success of archaeological endeavours.
This edited volume is a celebration of the love and dedication of interconnected communities that drives the innovative development of maritime archaeology in the Asia-Pacific region. It seeks to provide a platform for underrepresented voices and to recognize the indispensable role of local communities in the preservation of maritime cultural heritage. Through this collection of academic research, we aim to showcase not just the scholarly contributions to the field, but also the heartfelt commitment that underpins the work of maritime archaeologists and the communities that make this research possible.
When we initially reached out to authors, we asked them to conceptualize and write their papers exploring the APConf 5 theme ‘Ocean Decade’ with the framework questions: Who is your community? How is the community established and engaged? Do you work with locals / experts / professors / administrators? What are some of the emotive experiences of planning, research and fieldwork? By doing so we felt our aim to convey the labour of love we perform for maritime and underwater archaeology in the Asia-Pacific would directly address the provocative keynote speech by Nālani Wilson-Hokowhitu, which expanded on Epeli Hau’ofa’s ‘We Are the Ocean’. She talked about the way that mo‘okū‘auhau offers an epistemological relationship of interconnection to our ancestors, inclusive of our more-than-human relations/kin. She engages in the Native Hawaiian (Kanaka ‘Ōiwi) ‘Mo‘okū‘auhau as Methodology’ (Wilson-Hokowhitu 2019).
In response to Nālani Wilson-Hokowhitu’s bold and beautiful request of us, we framed this book around connection, compassion and communities. Our communities include the public, colleagues, and the environment. Our community microcosm is transdisciplinary. In both European and Indigenous archaeology literature we see this shift to slow sensory, non-curated, multivocality narratives of a personal interaction (e.g. Miller, Pestrikoff and Swenson 2025; Vuori 2024; Wilson-Hokowhitu 2019), we argue here that by going personal we build connections within and without, to each other and our places. And a great way to explore inwards and multivocality is the exploration of feelings such as love, which ultimately brings about compassion. Compassion for one another and recognition that our work engages directly with ancestors.
We address Nālani Wilson-Hokowhitu’s call to action in this book directly with our three themes, and in Chapter 1 we adopt her paper as axiology. Linguistics reminds us that ‘[a]xiological concepts encompass notions of morality, ethics, beliefs, and principles that underpin our decisions and actions, ultimately influencing how we navigate the labyrinthine landscape of human existence’ (Stepanova, Nykyporets and Hadaichuk 2023). Nālani’s paper ‘Moana Nui Rising: Oceanic Activisms and Futurities’ as axiology poses the question: ‘What is it ethical to do in order to gain this knowledge, and what will this knowledge be used for?’ (Wilson 2008: 34). Nālani Wilson-Hokowhitu’s ontology is the I Ka Wā Mamua worldview, which encompasses connection ‘beyond the human realm to include islands, oceans, planets, and the universe’ (Wilson-Hokowhitu 2019: 1). This guides us to ask what knowledge is worth seeking to better understand reality? She judges the worthiness of the pursuit of certain knowledge, while also asking us to consider our ethics of how that knowledge is gained. At APConf 5, Wilson-Hokowhitu’s keynote disrupted the positivist approach of our field as something that needs reviewing and expansion. For example, rigour is not only found in scientific methods but also in ceremonial protocols. Noting these complementary ontologies with something/someone as fluid and all surrounding as water, is an important part of engaging sustainably with our waters. Of course, Indigenous scholars have been writing such thoughts for decades, from different parts of the world. Wilson-Hokowhitu shared her personal experience as a Kanaka Maoli (Native Hawaiian) scholar on her positionality and relationality with the multiple names of Moana Nui and the Pasifika Indigenous voyaging revival from the 1970s to the present. Her example, we think, asked us to take the epistemology of reflexivity and to bring it beyond ourselves to include the PLACE we work with. To see ourselves as part of a very long line of existence with multiple ontologies.
In Chapter 2, Ulung Jantama Wisha, Wisnu Arya Gemilang and Nia Naelul Hasanah Ridwan present us the ‘Impact Assessment of Current and Future Sea-Level Rises on Coastal and Underwater Archaeological Sites in Indonesia’. In this chapter, we learn that sea level rise (SLR), increasing current velocities, and sediment transport pose a multidimensional threat to submerged heritage in Indonesia. Besides environmental issues induced by SLR, other anthropogenic threats such as illegal looting, fishing activities and industrial waste have been observed by the Research Institute for Coastal Resources and Vulnerability (RICRV) / Loka Riset Sumber Daya dan Kerentanan Pesisir (LRSDKP). Long-term preservation requires a multifaceted approach: integrating scientific monitoring, protective interventions, policy reform and stakeholder engagement to safeguard Indonesia’s maritime and underwater cultural heritage (MUCH) for future generations. Conservation initiatives in Indonesia are in urgent need for proactive research, and so RICRV/LRSDKP combined datasets on hydrodynamic and climate-induced changes on the shipwrecks associated with the villages of Sungai Nyalo, Surantih, Mandeh, Tongowai and Soasio and Panjang Island. Broadly they chose coordinates of these places in their adjacent body of water: Mandeh Bay (Sungai Nyalo, Surantih, Mandeh), Banten Bay (Panjang Island) and Southern Tidore (Tongowai and Soasio). Their results indicate a need for community monitoring, whose knowledge can provide early warnings of disturbances, such as illegal salvaging, and ensure broader support for conservation initiatives, along with archaeological excavation as a means to conserve the MUCH in Indonesia.
In Chapter 3, our Japanese colleague Chihiro Nishikawa shares emotive ongoing work in ‘Methodizing Comprehensive Marine “Convergence Knowledge (So-Go-Chi)” through Community Participation: Maritime and Underwater Cultural Heritage in the Seto Inland Sea, Japan’. The project team seeks to identify the current status of human relations with the sea, and what knowledge communities would like to gain. This is the first project in Japan to receive government funding related to Maritime Cultural Heritage (MCH). It is their hope that this project will help people to regain their historical, social and economic connection to the sea, which will further foster legal framework and sustainable practices for better protection and management of this valuable but fragile MCH. Japan is surrounded entirely by the sea, however many sites and stories relating to its MCH remain largely unknown to both its local citizens and international communities. This chapter aims to present a quasi-citizen science methodology derived from community involvement, research, surveys and discussions around the Seto Inland Sea (as one sea). After a background on the current state of MCH infrastructure in Japan, she discusses the project’s first phase of participant selection and their research suggestions.
Xu Lu (許路), Yu Longfa (余龍發), Luo Yi (羅易) and Zhu Zhengguang (朱爭光)’s work ‘Traditional Ocean Wisdom: Universal Longline Fishing as Community Cooperative Production Method and Maritime Cultural Heritage’ immediately take us into the view of Amoy traditional fisherman. We are swept off the shores and into the waters of China’s eastern and southern marine waters. We are reminded of the water column, as opposed to the terrestrial horizon. This difference in orientation over a landscape is integral to grasping the fundamental shift we, as maritime archaeologists and others practising in maritime spaces, must undergo as we transition from terrestrial (horizontal) to marine (columns). Amoy traditional fisherman, reaching as far back as Qing Dynasty (1644–1911), have employed the sustainable practice of universal longline fishing (ULF) (萬能延繩釣). Yet these practices are endangered due to the fast and lucrative fishing trawler, which just drops and drags a net along the seabed, and captures everything in its path. As we know, trawling creates problems with ecosystem balance due to large numbers of by-catch (untargeted species caught in nets, e.g. turtles, dolphins). None of us want this, so passionate independent scholars, practitioners, and international bodies are forming projects to record known sustainable practices.
Such is the case with this chapter. Xu, Yu, Luo and Zhu work in local Amoy communities to gather oral histories of the traditional universal longline fishing practice (ULF). ULF exemplifies a model of fishing that is not only environmentally conscious, minimizing by-catch and preserving marine ecosystems, but also culturally significant, embodying centuries of adaptive expertise passed down through generations. These practices demonstrate the interconnectedness of sustainability, heritage, and cultural resilience. In this way, the interplay between historical preservation and community empowerment becomes a dynamic process of compassionate co-creation. Researchers gain critical insights into maritime cultural landscapes, while fishermen find new pathways to adapt their traditional practices to modern challenges. Together, these efforts not only safeguard a rich cultural legacy but also highlight the transformative potential of maritime archaeology and ethnography in building sustainable futures for coastal communities. The chapter illustrates how ULF facilitates the formation of sociocultural values in the maritime communities in Xiamen by drawing in several case studies that explore women in ULF, operations of ULF, and experimental archaeological studies.
Our Sri Lankan colleagues in our next chapter all agreed that maritime archaeology is not merely a scientific pursuit; it is a labour of love driven by a deep sense of connection to cultural heritage, the environment, and the communities that live alongside it. Shipwrecks, as remnants of the past, serve as more than just archaeological sites; they are biodiversity hotspots, economic assets for dive tourism, and sources of cultural identity for coastal communities. Their preservation requires an inclusive, community-driven approach that recognizes the knowledge, labour, and lived experiences of those who interact daily with these submerged landscapes. The National Shipwreck Database of Sri Lanka (NSDSL) project exemplifies this ethos, weaving together the efforts of archaeologists, scientists, government agencies, divers, fishermen and tourism stakeholders to create an interdisciplinary platform for research, conservation and public engagement. This led to the chapter titled ‘Preserving Our Ocean Heritage: Biodiversity Surveys on Archaeological Shipwreck Sites’ by Vishmi Gunasinghe, Rasika Muthucumarana, Anuradha Piyadasa, Tharushi Malshani, and Dharshana Jayawardena.
At the heart of this project is the recognition that community participation is not ancillary but essential. Local divers, fishermen and NGOs have been instrumental in documenting, protecting, and raising awareness about shipwreck sites, often long before formal institutions took notice. Collaborative projects such as biodiversity surveys on SS Sagaing, the grass-roots protection of SS Conch, and the public advocacy campaign for MV Thermopylae Sierra, all demonstrate how stakeholder engagement transforms maritime archaeology from an academic discipline into a shared endeavour of care and stewardship. By embracing interdisciplinary approaches, inclusive data-sharing, and public education, this model challenges traditional conservation frameworks and repositions communities as active participants rather than passive observers in heritage management. The chapter situates the labour of love in maritime archaeology within the broader discourse of community involvement, decolonized heritage practices, and sustainable conservation strategies. It highlights how cross-sector collaboration, ethical engagement with local knowledge systems, and multilingual inclusivity in data presentation can create a more equitable and effective model for preserving underwater cultural heritage.
The chapter by Jay Mok and Cheng-hwa Tsang, titled ‘Rethinking Maritime Archaeology in Taiwan through Affective Collectivism: A Framework for Public Inclusion and Co-Creation’, aligns with our watery perspective of heart-centred archaeology because they share with us how Taiwan is working to raise awareness in public voices. The authors theorize the integration of public voices and emotions into maritime archaeology through the framework of ‘affective collectivism’. This mode of engagement, observed in the practices of Taiwan’s Penghu region, demonstrates how communal emotions and shared attachments can be consciously harnessed in heritage research. Their approach reframes knowledge-making authority as a dynamic process emerging from collective action and affective community bonds, explicitly challenging top-down, expert-led models.
The chapter traces the evolution of public involvement from the late twentieth century to the present, examining the distinct emotive relationships that different generations hold with shipwrecks and submerged landscapes. It argues that these perspectives, rooted in local experience rather than institutional specialization, fundamentally enrich interpretations of maritime heritage. As we read through the chapter, we begin to see a wide-frame view of adopting the heritage cycle in Asia-Pacific’s maritime and underwater cultural heritage (MUCH). The chapter also manages to give a critical assessment of both the achievements and the persistent structural (legal) challenges in implementing a truly collaborative model for maritime heritage.
Khongkamon Rattapat’s chapter, ‘Collections-Based Research with Maritime Cultural Landscape: A Common Thai Practice – Si Satchanalai Ceramic Figurines from Klang Aow Shipwreck’, speaks directly to the intimate connection between the past and the present, between the objects we find beneath the waves and the lives they once touched. Rattapat’s research takes us to the heart of South East Asia, tracing the journey of ceramic figurines crafted in the kilns of Sukhothai and Si Satchanalai. These figurines, once simple artefacts, become time capsules, carrying with them the labour of artisans whose hands shaped them with care, guided by the ancient rhythms of riverbanks, markets, and the ever-changing tides of commerce. What emerges from the study is not just a technical examination of ceramics; it is a heartfelt exploration of how these objects were bound by cultural ties and oceanic currents, reflecting a world of maritime exchanges.
Rattapat walks us through the historical backdrop of the Ming ban, when the South East Asian ceramic industry found itself thrust into prominence. Without Chinese ceramics flooding the market, artisans from regions like Sukhothai and Si Satchanalai seized the moment, producing wares that would travel across vast distances, carried by boats and ships, some of which would never return. The figurines, small, delicate and full of life, were more than just merchandise; they were a testament to the creativity and resilience of those who shaped them. The kilns of Si Satchanalai, with their ash-glazed pottery and intricate designs, are not merely historical features; they are the voices of a forgotten past, carried to us through waves, sunken ships, and the dedicated work of those who continue to unearth their significance. As we turn the pages of this research, we are invited to reflect on the labour of love that lies at the core of maritime archaeology. It is not enough to simply uncover objects from the depths; it is the human spirit, the love of understanding and the reverence for history that breathes life into them. Rattapat’s collection-based approach embodies this ethos, offering us a glimpse into the hands and hearts of the makers, the merchants, and the modern-day archaeologists and museum researchers who continue to tell their stories.
The submerged wrecks of the Second World War in the Mariana Islands are not only silent witnesses to history, but also vital parts of an ongoing story told through community, labour, and deep emotional connection. These sites represent more than relics of war; they embody the intersection of cultural heritage, environmental preservation, and the collaborative efforts of those who cherish the past. The work presented in Chapter 8, under the title ‘Interdisciplinary and Community Inclusive Approaches in Submerged WWII Heritage Research in the Pacific’, is a testament to the significance of community involvement in maritime archaeology. Led by a diverse team of researchers, including Jennifer F. McKinnon, David Benavente, Toni L. Carrell, Erin Field, Vicki Richards, Della Scott-Ireton, Mark Stephens, Aleck Tan and Kota Yamafune, this project focuses on submerged heritage from the Second World War with a commitment to inclusivity and reflexivity. The work involves not only archaeological exploration but also the active participation of community members, including veterans, local Indigenous Pacific Islanders, and international scholars.
At the core of this project is a commitment to understanding and preserving the deep cultural significance of these underwater sites. The team has integrated a variety of advanced methodologies, including LiDAR, machine learning, photogrammetry, and environmental DNA (eDNA) analysis, to gather data that will help to shape the future of maritime heritage conservation. But beyond technology, this work is rooted in the emotions, stories and connections of those involved. From the citizen scientists who engage directly with the artefacts, to the local divers and researchers who carry on the work after the project ends, this research is about creating lasting bonds with the past and the environment. The use of emerging technologies has allowed for the creation of 3D models, environmental assessments, and detailed corrosion studies that contribute to a deeper understanding of these wreck sites. These models do not just provide historical records; they offer a window into the living, breathing ecosystem that these wrecks support. They function as artificial reefs, contributing to the ‘blue economy’ of the region, benefiting local fisheries and ecotourism industries. This project underscores the interconnectedness of history and ecology, demonstrating how underwater cultural heritage can be a vital part of a community’s economic and environmental future.
In Chapter 9, ‘For Community, By Community: Promoting Underwater Cultural Heritage in Vietnam. A Case Study of the History Museum in Ho Chi Minh City’, Nguyen Thi Huynh Nhu and Nguyen Khac Xuan Thi examine how the History Museum (HM) in Ho Chi Minh City has fundamentally transformed its approach to promoting underwater cultural heritage (UCH) through community-based engagement strategies. Using the HM as a central case study, they analyse the museum’s multifaceted strategies, including exhibitions, educational workshops and outreach communications, demonstrating how it has evolved from traditional display models to interactive, socially responsive experiences that actively engage diverse audiences. Drawing on Vietnam’s cultural heritage law, and examining UCH-specific exhibitions across various Vietnamese museums, the authors employ both SWOT (Strengths–Weaknesses–Opportunities–Threats) and PEST (Political–Economic–Social–Technological) analysis frameworks to systematically assess the museum’s challenges within Vietnam’s contemporary social context. Their findings reveal that museums can play a vital role in UCH preservation by promoting intergenerational learning, forming collaborative networks with universities and private collectors, and integrating innovative, youth-driven communication strategies that resonate with younger generations. Despite Vietnam’s profound and long-standing maritime connections, spanning historical, economic and cultural dimensions, public awareness and understanding of UCH remains limited due to the underwater archaeology field’s relatively small scale in the country. Nhu and Thi conclude with practical, actionable recommendations for enhancing museum-based approaches to capacity building in Vietnam, ultimately reinforcing the HM’s position as a cultural nexus that operates ‘for the community, by the community’.
In our epilogue ‘Origins, or Why We Signed On Board in the First Place’, Hans Van Tilburg connects us to all our communities. He reminds us that communities sit at the forefront of UCH importance and why we pursue careers in its stewardship. We seek community and we are part of the community that learn, promote and care for the significance of underwater places. We can all identify with multiple communities such as cultural communities, geographic communities, professional communities and avocational communities. He shares with us his personal journey to and within cultural resource management. Now retired, he continues to participate in the APConf because of our community and the connections this has forged deep within ourselves. He may be too humble to say it, but Hans has also been a leader in how to bring compassion to our community. As the chair of APConf 2 in 2014, Hans invited us all to experience Oahu in companionship. We had emotional experiences in the national parks, camaraderie in the student dorms, and an inceptive keynote speech on community by Professor Sayan Praicharnjit (see more about his work in Rattapat’s chapter). We were invited to earn certificates in a programme curtailed for us by our conservators. These efforts to bring us together and understand each other is just really who Hans Van Tilburg is at heart. We owe much to his pioneering in the field of maritime archaeology.
In compiling this volume, we have aimed to show that maritime archaeology and maritime cultural heritage are often underrepresented in English-mediated literature, especially concerning the Asia-Pacific region. This gap in representation not only limits the visibility of significant archaeological findings but also overlooks the rich and diverse cultural narratives that these regions offer. By bringing together a diverse array of research, the volume seeks to challenge and expand the current boundaries of maritime archaeological discourse while complementing terrestrial archaeology with a watery perspective.
The Asia-Pacific region, with its vast and intricate maritime history, presents unique challenges and opportunities for archaeologists. The chapters in this volume highlight innovative methodologies and empathetic approaches that have emerged from working within these diverse contexts. This compilation has been drawn from short summary papers presented in the conference proceedings, selected because they transcend expected themes, showcasing innovation and empathy in the burgeoning discipline of maritime archaeology. These works underscore the intricate relationship between maritime archaeologists and the communities they engage with, often revealing a deep-seated affection for both the cultural heritage they strive to preserve and the people who are custodians of this heritage. Our intent is to demonstrate the exceptional potential of these voices to convey the love and kindness, both implicit and explicit, inherent in the archaeological work conducted across the Asia-Pacific region.
We see our work aligns with broader discussions in works like Barbara Little’s Bending Archaeology Toward Social Justice (University of Alabama Press, 2023), which underscores the systemic barriers that often prevent engaged, community-centred scholarship from flourishing. By dismantling these barriers, we hope to have created not just a volume, but a space where scholars can connect, collaborate and contribute with integrity and care. Ultimately, this engagement is not just about producing knowledge; it is about recognizing that knowledge itself is relational, and that this process, fuelled by compassion and mutual respect, is where love resides.