**I wrote this note as part of Writing Concept monthly under my supervisors (Adam & Chris). Here is the draft and unfinished version.
Introduction
As an academic living within the dense wilderness of (speculative) philosophy, I often encounter difficulties when examining “archipelagic thoughts” through very limited readings. My readings that ultimately must be strengthened by an approach that is more geographical than merely abstract. Yet these difficulties do not deter me. Living in Indonesia, as my personal experience, and even as known as an archipelagic state with its thousands of islands, it means that discussing archipelagic thoughts is akin to speaking of hundreds, thousands, even hundreds of thousands of possibilities for defining what “archipelagic thoughts” might be. For me, it becomes a way of thinking about and with islands, archipelagos, or what are often referred to as isolated lands, small islands, and insular islands.
In philosophy, we believe that thinking about archipelago or archipelagic thoughts cannot leave from Deleuzian’s dogma. According to Gilles Deleuze (2004) that islands do not represent the egg of birth so much as the egg of re-birth: a place where we (speaking of Western subjects, at least) imagine that we can recreate ourselves anew. It is because Deleuze compares a ‘desert island’ to an ‘egg’, that is, a metaphor for ‘body without organs (Gōda, 2018, p. 300). And for me, following my previous experience in understanding archipelagic thoughts, I began when I read Gilles Deleuze’s (2002/2004) Desert Islands and Other Texts 1953–1974.
The essay called “Desert Island”, translated by Michael Taormina and edited by David Lapoujade in 2004 or original Deleuze version wrote about “Causes Et Raisons Des Îles Désertes” (2002) or literally I translated as “Causes and Reasons of Desert Islands”. Deleuze’s idea here according to Koizumi’s interpretation (2018, p. 268) that he attempted to “presents a mythological and scientific vision in which new islands and new humanity emerge from the opposition between the land and sea in desert islands”. However, what Deleuze cannot explain is how such new territory and people are produced and reproduced while rejecting old and conventional generational ways.
Moreover, speculatively, Deleuze distinguishes two forms of islands:
“Continental islands are accidental, derived islands. They are separated from a continent, born of disarticulation, erosion, fracture; they survive the absorption of what once contained them. Oceanic islands are originary, essential islands.” (Deleuze, 2004, p. 9)
Deleuze then adds:
“Some islands drifted away from the continent, but the island is also that toward which one drifts; other islands originated in the ocean, but the island is also the origin, radical and absolute.” (Ibid, p. 10)
Evidently, Deleuze is referencing Carl Schmitt’s distinction between the “nomos” of the land and that of the sea (Koizumi, 2018, p. 272). However, he moves beyond Schmitt’s framework by conceptualizing islands as entities that arise and evolve precisely from this tension. In this divergence, Deleuze envisions islands detaching from both ocean and continent, and foresees a new humanity forged through this very opposition
This is how Deleuze invites us to imagine the desert island: a way of dreaming a different kind of island. Of course, this is merely a mythological dream. One filled with intensity, utopian motivation, even a certain mystification of a space entirely other than what we assume.
As I believe, Deleuze (2004, p. 12) further turns to a literary-philosophical approach:
“One would have to show exactly how in this sense mythology fails and dies in two classic novels of the deserted island, Robinson and Suzanne. Suzanne and the Pacific emphasizes the separated aspect of islands, the separation of the young woman who finds herself there; Robinson Crusoe, the creative aspect, the beginning anew….”
Not only about such a path as imaginative dreaming of island(s), but he also elaborates two stories about desert islands: Robinson Crusoe, and Suzanne and the Pacific for explaining the separation from the continent logic. In other words, Koizumi (2018, p. 280) added that we can think like this even though we live on old continents and islands as old animals. There is so much we should think about: the deterritorialising and reterritorialising of the continent, ocean and islands; the creation of concepts, the instauration of planes, and the reterritorialising of people and land.
Perhaps, in more Indonesian literature context, what I might recall is GadisPantai (The Girl from the Coast, 1962) a beautiful novel written by Pramoedya Ananta Toer. If Robinson and Suzanne narrate quests for self-discovery and the spirit of geographical adventure, Gadis Pantai instead tells the story of a 14-year-old fisherman’s daughter who is taken as a concubine by a Javanese nobleman (Bendoro) under Dutch colonial-era feudalism. The entire narrative unfolds through the girl’s perspective, framed by the vast horizon of the land-sea or coastal landscape. In this novel, the sea becomes a metaphor for freedom, or something as Deleuze call as “de-subjectivity” in the desert island that can never be fully articulated.
In Gadis Pantai landscape, I articulate from Gōda (2018, p. 290) argumentation of an affirmation of the world as process or as archipelago in Deleuzian worldview. It is not even a puzzle whose pieces adjust one to another and form a totality. They are both isolated and floating relations, both islands and inter-islands, both mobile points and winding lines. Thus, an island is always an archipelago or archipelagos; every archipelago as well as all archipelagos are always only one island.
Gōda’s (2018, p. 289) conceptualization positions the archipelago as a model of “nomadic distribution,” directly engaging with Deleuze-Guattari dichotomy between sedentary and nomadic space. Unlike a state’s centralized, grid-like territory, an archipelago emerges through dynamic, relational forces like tectonics and currents, forming a decentralized “smooth space” where islands act as contingent points in an open field. This structure inherently operates through “transversality,” a mode of relation that rejects hierarchical (vertical) and deterministic (linear) connections in favor of diagonal, creative linkages that navigate between isolated points, forging unpredictable alliances. Consequently, the archipelago embodies a principle of “radical discontinuity”. Each island is a distinct, isolated world, yet this very separation paradoxically hides a submerged continuity, not as a solid foundation but as a connective medium (the sea) that is itself fissured by “bottomless rifts” (trenches, depths). The archipelago thus becomes a figure for a reality that is neither unified nor simply fragmented, but a field of heterogeneous elements held in a tense, productive unity by a connective tissue that is perpetually unstable and full of gaps.
As we may know well, the word ‘archipelago’ is derived from the Greek word archipelagus, which means ‘the first, principal sea’. Similarly, like Friedrich Hölderlin’s poem “The Archipelago” (Der Archipelagus), written around 1800–1801, is a lyrical and elegiac work exploring the harmonious relation between divine nature and human culture in ancient Greece, while contrasting this idealized past with the fragmentation and suffering of Hölderlin’s present, yet still expressing hope for future renewal. It reminds me that “hope and the future” form one of the essential possibilities for speaking about “the Archipelago,” or how the “Archipelagic” may be understood as a mode of thinking—a more way in exploring the very ontological possibility of the island itself.
Thinking Like an Archipelago
In this second part, I am really interested with Édouard Glissant’s worldview in his idea of Poetic of Relation. To understand concerning Glissant’s works, I learned much from secondary resources from Michael Wiedorn (2018) and Leupin et al. (2021). They discussed deeply Glissant’s paradox philosophy and the idea of archipelagic thinking. Glissant’s works known well with some key terms that were immanent to the Caribbean discourse: creolization, archipelagic thought, or the Tout-monde.
What means by creolization is not hybridity, the melting pot, crossbreeding, a juxtaposition of cultures that tolerate each other in the indifference of partitionings and the lack of all contact that a culture of selfishness produces; these representations are only passing phenomena, an expectation of something that does not express itself because it lies in the future (Leupin et al., 2021, p. 20). Following Glissant’s readings of the past, Leupin et al. (2021, p. 252) note in the first place how much the geography of Pre-Socratic thought is archipelagic and decentered, albeit within a monolingual framework: “The Ionian archipelago in ancient Greece, well before Alexander, divined both East and West together”.
However, Glissant also repeated many times for decades, “the entire world is becoming an archipelago and creolizing” (Wiedorn, 2018, p. xxv). Glissant’s claim as to what the world is becoming is rooted in the geographical model of the archipelago. As mentioned by Wiedorn (2018, p. 7), “…Le monde entier . . . s’archipélise, of course, does not mean that the world is becoming a cluster of islands in a sea”.
The paradox according Wiedorn (2018) that Glissant has repeatedly sighted in the Caribbean archipelago is consistent and unified, but also multiple, shifting, at one and the same time. Or, in original terms is called as “archipelagic thinking”, in using it as a lens through which to reread the play of paradox and contradiction, both willed and unwilled, in Glissant’s oeuvre. Thus, meditations on archipelagoes reflect the central importance of landscape to his thought.
For Glissant, archipelagoes by definition are a group of islands with no center, with each island related to, relaying to, each other island. The very idea of an archipelago is, in a sense, itself somewhat paradoxical, in that it uses one word to describe a multiplicity. In other words, in the archipelago form a group of disparate and diverse islands exhibits sufficient interconnection and coherence such that a singular descriptor can be used to describe their multiplicity. In that sense, the archipelago is exemplary of the notion of unity within diversity. Or, it clearly says that archipelagic thinking being is being the thinking of the ambiguous compared a dominant of continental thinking.
In Poetic of Relation or Philosophy of Relation, Glissant (1990/1997) refers to the “thought” or “thinking” of archipelagoes, then, requires something of a suspension of disbelief and also provoking our imagination with or for the world.
“That was the imagination of the world, which is so beautifully or crudely of continental inspiration. The imaginary of the world would be entirely different. The imaginary foresees, divines, finds, it predicts nothing in terms of relationships, it accompanies neither possession nor knowledge. It in no way concludes. It supposes in an archipelago (en archipel)” (more emphasized by Wiedorn, 2018, p. 112).
Not only Glissant’s archipelagic thinking, more interestingly, Jonathan Pugh (2013) also explores that “thinking with the archipelago” is not merely reflective but he actively contributes to the spatial turn in geographical view. Pugh pushes this further through his concept of metamorphosis, describing how island-to-island movements reinterpret, transform, and generate new cultural, political, and material forms. This idea echoes long-standing maritime traditions in the archipelagic world, where creativity does not imitate a distant center but emerges through hybridization, circulation, and the continual reworking of inherited forms.
Pugh’s own questions illuminate this shift: “we live, increasingly, in a world of island–island movements and not static forms,” and even “continental forms like Canada and Australia are in fact archipelagos composed of thousands of island movements” (2013, p. 9). The central question thus arises: “What does it mean to think with the archipelago?” For Pugh, archipelagic thinking “denaturalizes the conceptual basis of space and place” and thereby directly engages the spatial turn (p. 9). Western culture, Pugh argues, not only thinks about islands but “thinks with them,” revealing that island studies generate forms of thought that exceed the study of islands themselves (p. 9). To think with the archipelago means, then, to re-envision space as inter-connective, generative, and continually in transit—what Pugh calls “transfigurative originality” (p. 10), where island movements “adapt, transfigure and transform their inheritances into original form.”
Highlighting this requires moving beyond reductive binaries such as land/sea or island/mainland, categories that obscure “ways of being, knowing and doing—ontologies, epistemologies and methods” that reveal islands as mutually constituted, co-constructed, and inter-related (Pugh, 2013, p. 10). As further Pugh notes, despite the rise of island studies, “the archipelago remains one of the least examined metageographical concepts.” Thinking with the archipelago, therefore, foregrounds how island movements open cognitive spaces of metamorphosis—material, cultural, and political—and positions the archipelago not as an inert geography but as a vibrant method of thought.
I conceived that “thinking with the archipelago” extends a long-standing tradition in which the world is framed not as discrete “islands of the world” but as a “world of islands”. This shift signals a profound reorientation: instead of isolating islands as bounded entities, archipelagic thinking encourages us to understand island spaces as inherently relational, always in movement, and mutually constituted. In this regard, I see that Pugh also reads Deleuze as proposing the archipelago as a model of “a world in process” rather than a world in stasis—a world defined less by fixed forms than by ongoing transformations. Here, island spaces appear not as solitary units but as “interrelated, mutually constituted and co-constructed: as island and island” (Pugh, 2013, p. 12).
At this point, it may be tempting to associate Pugh’s argument with Benítez-Rojo’s (1996) concept of the “repeating island,” yet Pugh resists this connection. For him, the idea of repetition risks suggesting that islands simply reproduce shared experiences across a chain. While the Caribbean indeed shares a foundational archipelagic experience—slavery. He insists that Derek Walcott offers a more compelling conceptualization of inheritance, one that foregrounds contingency, variation, and specificity rather than repetition. Within Walcott’s formulation, the true force of the Caribbean archipelago lies not in repetition but in metamorphosis: an ongoing process of invention, creation, and re-creation (Pugh, 2013, p. 17).
Pugh further enriches this argument by turning to Kamau Brathwaite’s celebrated term “tidalectic”, which he contrasts with dialectical thinking. Brathwaite (1999) proposes tidalectics to describe how island movements mirror the movements of the tide (non-cyclical, ever-changing, and transformative). Rather than returning an archipelago to the same state, tidalectic forces foreground slow, subtle processes of adaptation, suspension, questioning, and renewal (Pugh, 2013, p. 17). As Brathwaite famously writes, tidalectic forces move “from one continent/continuum, touching another, and then receding (‘reading’) from the island(s) into the perhaps creative chaos of the(ir) future…” (Brathwaite, 1999, p. 34; cited in Pugh, 2013, p. 17). Tidalectics, therefore, is not an either/or logic but a mode in which territorial and deterritorializing forces operate simultaneously, shaping island worlds through conjunction rather than opposition (Pugh, 2013, p. 18).
Island Studies and Its Archipelagic Turn
After I learned the basic idea of “archipelagic thinking” that mostly coming from Carribean and Pacific Islands inspirations, I then expand my exploration to several development of island studies as the way of understanding beyond of geo(morpho)logical instability in the archipelago discourse or then we more discussing related to “island”. Recall again, according to Stratford et al. (2023, p. 13), “…islands are not simply a locus but a focus, and in this vein, what gets imbricated in the plot are archetypes of their islandness—boundedness by water; relatively small size/scale, insularity, and isolation; remoteness and the impulse to mobility; or singularity and archipelagicity”. Geologically speaking, however, islands are ephemeral: created today, destroyed tomorrow. Also, most people understand islands intuitively: pieces of land larger than rocks but smaller than continents, surrounded by water on all sides, even at high tide.
“Rethinking island methodologies also means being open to islands’ spectacular diversity of natural and cultural forms. Islands are home to a significant part of global biodiversity resulting from high levels of species endemism, distinctive functional traits, and evolutionary patterns such as adaptive radiations. For similar reasons, islands are theatres to a dramatic number of extinctions, particularly of bird species, that often occur because of our species’ encroachments. In many fields spanning diverse approaches, islands are a form of synecdoche: real-world models and systems that appeal analytically because their size seems manageable when compared with continents… So, then, islandness is a condition and, combined with qualities such as location, relative smallness, and distance from mainlands, that condition creates habitats that throw up cultural and social specificities in place, across spaces, and over time: distinct languages and dialects, rituals and practices, or architectures and cuisines.” (Stratford et al., 2023, p. 9).
Stratford et al. (2023) remind us that islands resist simple classification. They describe islands, whether islets or isles, as paradoxical spaces: at once absolute and relational, bounded and porous, isolated yet profoundly connected. Islands are “absolute entities surrounded by water but not large enough to be a continent,” and yet they also constitute “relational spaces—archipelagos, (inter)dependent, identifiable,” shaped through networks of exchange, mobility, and shared histories (p. 13). Their spatiality is relative: territorially bounded yet culturally permeable; sites that are simultaneously isolated and colonised, connected and postcolonial.
Islands are not merely geophysical units but imaginaries, and it aligns with Deleuzian’s thesis of desert island, performative landscapes saturated with meaning, vulnerable to linguistic, cultural, and ecological transformations, yet also robust, adaptive, and capable of modifying the forces that shape them. They anchor themselves within regions, nation-states, and global systems, while also functioning as paradisiacal, utopian, dystopian, or touristic imaginaries, as well as ecological refugia. In this expansive sense, islands become conceptual frames through which interdisciplinary inquiry and dialogue can take place.
This complexity stands in stark contrast to the “disarmingly simple and stock definition” of an island as “a piece of land surrounded by water, larger than a rock, but smaller than a continent, which remains visible even at high tide”—a definition that almost absurd in its reductiveness as found by Stratford et al. (2023, p. 23). Such a definition reveals the inadequacy of purely physical criteria for capturing the lived, symbolic, political, and relational dimensions of islandness. It renders the task of justifying why islands matter to thought and scholarship “ridiculous and useless,” precisely because it reduces islands to a static, geographically bounded form, detached from the dynamic histories and movements that constitute them. To disrupt this reductive framing, Stratford et al. point to more provocative claims. Such as the idea that the only “real islands” on the planet are tectonic plates themselves, drifting, colliding, and reconfiguring over geological time (2023, p. 23).
In some good points, I sum that Stratford et al. (2023) provide at least six debates in the island methodology: (i) artificial island, (ii) tourism, (iii) territories, (iv) privatisation of islands, (v) island as microcosm or the fallacy of small-scale island, and (vi) small island states in global policy. Meanwhile, Carter (2020, p. 225) expands the notion of “Decolonising Governance: Archipelagic Thinking” that pointing out “..history as archipelagic production”. It is similar with Stratford et al. (2023, p. 92) statement that “…decolonized research methodologies acknowledge the primacy of islands and islanders over and above a long history of imposed assumptions that viewed and treated islands as ideal colonies and prisons.” Especially significant for researchers is the ongoing objectification of islands and islanders according to durable perceptions of islands as ideal laboratories and ready-made case studies. We can track back to naturalists of the empire and colonial era that are historically connected through their work in mapping, collecting, and classifying specimens for scientific knowledge, often intertwined with imperial goals in exploring “The New World”.
Moreover, historically speaking, the obvious contribution of archipelagic thinking has been to the theory of evolution. In Wallace’s classic formulation, for instance, the ‘Malay archipelago’ favoured the discovery of ‘development’ – a tropical exfoliation of” species and types – because it possessed a near infinity of coastlines, linear zones that at once separated island from island and offered a landing place or site of re-assembly (see Carter, 2020, p. 56-58). Thus, in decolonising governance, the archipelago is a more-than geographical concept. Even, in the case of Indonesia as “world’s largest archipelagic state” still remains the problem of homogenisation of Indonesian cultural diversity and trapped on colonial gaze-complexity. In other words, the supposed unity of the nation state, like Indonesia, as Carter (2020, p. 222) states, “…whether colonial or postcolonial, depends on the erasure of local and regional self-organising social practices to produce an absolute fragmentation of non- or even anti-colonial relationships. Internally, considered as a social contract, the nation state is a random collection of human islands bound together by nothing more than self-interest…”. Thus, I draw an archipelago of shapeless islands cannot be separated to much conceptual work on the radical insight and potential of relational ontologies that overturn Western binaries that have shaped the perception of islands and their politics, ecologies, histories, economies, well-being, and even survival.
Drawing back to Deleuze’s rhizomatic approach, the process of archipelago is constantly displacing origins and centres. Furthermore, a continent, when released from the fixed imaginaries of cartographic solidity, can be re-seen as an archipelagic formation: not a singular and stable mass but a constellation of heterogeneous parts in slow, perpetual mutation. The world of islands or Island of Islands or even many new worlds are imagined as islands.
To be clear, I revisit O’Keefee (2020) article talks about “the philosophy between land and sea”. In terms of philosophical debates, specifically during history of philosophy, the idea of terrestrial and maritime alike, has never been considered, let alone attempted or carried out.
“….But if a philosophically thought-out history of terrestrial and maritime discoveries is at stake, the matter involves gaining conceptual purchase not just on “discovery” but also on “land” and “sea,” especially “sea.” For the capital moment occurred when sea voyages took primacy over trips taken on land (O’Keeffe, 2020, p. 350).
In this situation, I would say that Kant, Hegel, and Heidegger are still trapped with the orientation of the anti-maritime landscape with which the rational mind ties itself to the perspectives of deep-rooted, terran-regional self-assertion or as Kantian term “topographically”—thinking of place and space and building dwelling that brings “land-being” thus Philosophy missed, or ignored all of this out-of-land. O’Keeffe (2020) clearly provides “Land, Sea, World, Island, and Outerspace” philosophical transition and geographical landscapes, to encounter “one-world-modern thinking” inspired by European colonialist, that is limited by universal fixed minded, and forget to remind that we are having infinite possibilities, for a human being’s worlding exist, in many truth possibilities, are always available to many worlds. This, I argue, represents a significant reconstitution of the ‘outside’ of state form that fundamentally explain that islands are not, simply passive and neutral whether through nature, magic or simply by engendering extreme or unusual forms of social interaction, actively transforms those cast up upon them.
Concluding Remarks
Before ending this discussion, Stephens and Martínez-San Miguel (2020) edited the most fundamental “contemporary archipelagic thinking” collected works and chapters. Starting from most personal experiences who live in small islands, they explain an archipelagic poetics as the space of solidarity with other peoples, places, and species who have similar struggles and experiences. In short, it points out a more flexible definition of the archipelago. In our understanding, the archipelago calls for a meaning-making and rearticulation that responds to human experiences traversing space and time (p. 3). Yet they can also become an episteme, an imaginary, a way of thinking, a poetic, a hermeneutic, a method of inquiry, a system of relations. Even it borrows from its ambiguity, its fragility, its derivative drift.
For Glissant and Walcott, as Stephens and Martínez-San Miguel (2020, p. 6) mentioned that “…the archipelagic is conceived of as a framework to theorize multiplicity and difference, while undoing central tenets in historical (root, teleology) and literary (the epic) studies and embracing the multifocal, multisited articulation of human experience.” In other words, this anthology explores the archipelagic as both a specific and a generalizable geohistorical and cultural formation, occurring across various planetary spaces, including the Mediterranean and Aegean Seas, the Caribbean Basin, the Malay Archipelago, Oceania, and the creole islands of the Indian Ocean. Generally, Archipelagic thinking, grounded as it is in assemblages of island, continent, and sea, requires a conceptualization of the global that is forced to do more, geographically, geohistorically, and geopolitically, to differentiate islands from each other while theorizing their connectivities and commonalities (p. 7).
From this stance, we also cannot merely romanticise the past, like how powerful Bandung Praxis as part of the famous Bandung Conference of Asian and African leaders in 1955 in discussing “the island of free man”. Based in the Indonesian archipelago, this conference is functioned to bring conference-goers (these islands of free men) into an archipelagic relationality with one another, archipelagizing them in a way allied, described as the Bandung Conference’s effect of “de-islanding” in the wake of colonialism. The several hundred distinct linguistic traditions on thousands of inhabited islands constituted the archipelago’s discontinuity, while the national language was set forth as the archipelago’s overlay of conjunction (p. 88-90).
I conclude that “the archipelago paradigm” is focusing instead on island-to-island relationships and not only about a cluster or group of islands. For instance, Indonesian and Japanese reconnects to the Caribbean that share some similar kinds of historical, political, social, and environmental features. Thus, thinking with the archipelago, highlights the geosocial locations for “the production of knowledge” in multiple and relational ways. As a process of rethinking geography and history with archipelago, it also implicates abstract notions of space and time, of topology and temporality.
Lastly, Chandler and Pugh (2021, p. 395) examine how the island as a liminal and transgressive space has facilitated Anthropocene thinking, working with and upon island forms and imaginations to develop alternatives to hegemonic, modern, ‘mainland’, or ‘one world’ thinking. By approaching relational entanglements to debunk under older European and modern thought, the island was often understood as insular, isolated, and backward, when compared to continental, mainland, reasoning. Islands are held to exemplify how all life is relationally entangled and co-dependent. Not only that, Islands mirrors the rise of non-modern, relational, non-linear, and more-than-human thinking. Unfortunately, in more recent debates about climate change, islands are still often reductively framed in Western and modernist fantasies of control; understood as backward, helpless, vulnerable, and in need of saving by others. Islanders are ‘often portrayed as passive victims waiting to be saved from their sinking islands (p. 397).
I can say, intensely personal archipelagic imagination, perhaps:
“…there is no world after the end of the island…”
I witness how my beloved archipelagic state governs many small-islands (but capital-oriented potential) not as living constellations of relation, but as isolated units of state-control—insular islandness which mobilised and controlled to merely sustain global capitalism and oligarchy power under the banner of nationalism.
References
Carter, P. (2020). Decolonising Governance Archipelagic Thinking. Routledge.
Chandler, D., & Pugh, J. (2021). Anthropocene islands: There are only islands after the end of the world. Dialogues in Human Geography, 11(3), 395–415. https://doi.org/10.1177/2043820621997018
Deleuze, G. (2004). Desert islands and other texts, 1953-1974. Semiotext(e) ; Distributed by MIT Press.
Gōda, M. (2018). Archipelagic System and Deleuze’s Philosophy. Deleuze and Guattari Studies, 12(2), 283–301. https://doi.org/10.3366/dlgs.2018.0309
Koizumi, Y. (2018). From Dreaming of Desert Islands to Reterritorialising Philosophy. Deleuze and Guattari Studies, 12(2), 268–282. https://doi.org/10.3366/dlgs.2018.0308
Leupin, A., Brown, A., & Leupin, A. (2021). Édouard Glissant, philosopher: Heraclitus and Hegel in the whole-world. SUNY Press.
O’Keeffe. (2020). Philosophy Between Land and Sea. Symplokē, 28(1–2), 349. https://doi.org/10.5250/symploke.28.1-2.0349
Pugh, J. (2013). Island Movements: Thinking with the Archipelago. Island Studies Journal, 8(1), 9–24. https://doi.org/10.24043/isj.273
Stephens, M., & Martínez-San Miguel, Y. (2020). Contemporary archipelagic thinking: Toward new comparative methodologies and disciplinary formations. Rowman & Littlefield.
Stratford, E., Baldacchino, G., & McMahon, E. (2023). Rethinking island methodologies. Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. https://doi.org/10.5040/9798881813659
Wiedorn, M. (2018). Think like an archipelago: Paradox in the work of Édouard Glissant. State University of New York.
Mahaswa's Thought 