Scientist Katie Soapy's earliest memories are of the sea. She grew up on Rendova, a lush island in the west. Solomon Islandsand life is centered around the ocean.
“I remember when the big waves came, we would dive under them and come out on the other side laughing. Being part of these natural elements brought me so much joy.”
She excelled in chemistry at school and later went on to study medicinal plants, fascinated by the possibility that nature could create cures for modern diseases. She studied in Fiji, Australia and the UK, and later became the first woman from the Solomon Islands obtain a doctorate in natural sciences.
And yet Soapy continued to be drawn to her first love – the ocean. And what ultimately became her most personal and rewarding work was protecting one of the Solomon Islands' most treasured sites, Tetepare Island.
Battle of Tetepare
In the mid-1990s, the sound of chainsaws echoed through the forests of the Solomon Islands as commercial logging swept across the country. Soapi saw Rendova fall under the axes of the woodcutters. Rivers that were once crystal clear have turned brown with silt, and the forest songs of birds and insects have died down.
When rumors began that Tetepare might be next, residents of Western Province felt they were facing more than just an environmental threat. Tetepare was taboo—sacred land, home to ancestral gardens, burial sites and memories etched deep in the soil.
“Losing Tetepare would be like losing a part of myself,” says Soapy. “It wasn’t just about trees anymore, it was about identity and heritage.”
Soapy joined others who resisted deforestation and dedicated her free time to the movement. Then, as a university student, Soapi was one of the founders of the Friends of Tetepare, a grassroots movement that later became the Tetepare Descendants Association (TDA).
“We worked with everyone on the island to save Tetepare, writing letters to some people urging them not to do this,” she says.
They lobbied governments and rallied international allies to block logging concessions. The campaign was merciless. Soapi worked hard, bringing together descendant groups and holding meetings in villages – all united by a common goal: to keep Tetepare wild. The logging company tried to convince some families with money, but the people stood firm and made sacrifices to prove their commitment.
Soapy served as a bridge between tradition and evolving conservation science.
“We needed both—the knowledge of our ancestors and the tools of science to show the world why Tetepare matters.”
Their struggle attracted worldwide attention, and film crews arrived in the 1990s to document the story. Years later, the Australian documentary Since the Company Came told the world about Tetepare's struggle.
“That's when we realized the world had seen what we had. We had to protect it – not just for ourselves, but for everyone.”
Their struggle bore fruit and at that time no company was allowed to enter Tetepare. Today it is one of the last untouched places in the Solomon Islands. It is run by the TDA, which has thousands of members. The rainforest canopy stretches untouched, the rivers flow clear, and the black sand beaches are home to endangered leatherback turtles.
Community rangers – descendants of Tetepare – patrol the island, drawing on both traditional knowledge and modern science.
“It's not just Western science. Traditional knowledge is woven into everything we do,” says Sopay.
Conservation efforts also support livelihoods. Tetepare Eco Lodge, managed by TDA, allows visitors to experience conservation in action. Proceeds from the lodge support rangers and community projects, and annual meetings bring descendants together to make collective decisions.
Defending Tetepare was never an easy task. In communities where money is tight, the lure of quick money from extractive industries remains.
“It’s always easier to sell trees for a few hundred dollars and have the money in your hands today,” admits Soapy. “But conservation gives us fish, food and clean rivers for generations to come. That's harder to measure in the short term.”
However, threats remain. TDA patron John Reed says the recent proposal aims to clear part of the forest bordering the island's main marine protected area, which is home to a wealth of marine life.
“Unfortunately, the fact that it is large, fertile and uninhabited makes it attractive to both developers and landowners less committed to conservation.”
Reid says that at the TDA's annual general meeting in October this year, members expressed anger at the proposal and vowed to reject any plans for logging, settlements, commercial mining or destructive activities on Tetepar.
Soapy says, “I hope that those who want to establish settlements on the island will respect the ongoing conservation efforts that our communities have worked hard on for many years.”
Pacific conservation model
For Soapi, now a respected regional scientist and ocean advocate, Tetepare's story is a shining example of Pacific-led conservation.
“Tetepare taught us that conservation is not just about protecting the land,” she says. “It’s about protecting who we are.”
Elizabeth Holland, a former professor of ocean science and climate change at the University of the South Pacific, has worked with Soapi for more than a decade. She describes her as a “talented Pacific scientist and scientific rock star.”
Holland says Soapy's work – particularly in the area of ocean acidification – has had a significant impact, and her leadership has given aspiring scientists “a clear career path and strong mentorship to help ensure ocean sustainability in the region.”
Tetepare's success has inspired communities across the Pacific. In 2012, TDA received the prestigious United Nations Equator Prize, global recognition of its model of community-led conservation.
“This shows that Pacific people don't just inherit conservation models—we create them,” says Soapy.
She now works as a partnership coordinator at the Pacific Community Ocean Science Center and continues to advocate for Indigenous knowledge and community-driven approaches. Soapi remains deeply attached to Tetepara.
“I feel like I'm just one of many. I may have access to platforms and institutions, but the real work belongs to Tetepare's descendants. They are the true custodians of the island.”
