According to Dean MacCannell, “the central drive of postmodern tourism is to discover places that seem to exist outside of history: unspoiled nature and savagery” (MacCannell 1992:26). This observation would particularly fit the Pacific Islands, which are often represented as “timeless” and devoid of history. At the same time, however, tourist advertising continually draws on the fund of European contact history in representing the South Seas as fascinating and desirable. Paradoxically, history is frequently invoked to authenticate Polynesia as an ahistorical space.

To take but one example, a full page Qantas Airlines advertisement for Tahiti holidays declares “Discover the land where time stands still” (Time Australia 1992:7). In part the ad evokes a pre-industrial, even pre-lapsarian past, alluding to “tropical island gardens of Eden” where one may get in touch with “nature’s secret rhythms”. The same ad, though, adds that Tahiti has French food and wine on offer, which of course belies the idea that time has stood still. Visually the ad is dominated by the figure of a woman viewed from behind. She embodies the stereotypical props of the Island woman: a floral garland around her head, thick black hair falls to her waist, she is apparently bare-breasted and wears a brightly colored pareu. The woman scans the horizon from the prow of a boat. The image echoes historical accounts by early European visitors of nubile island women who welcomed their ships. Like much South Pacific advertising, the ad turns on both an evocation of the past and the idea that the islands are without history. What in fact appears timeless is the stereotype of the South Seas. From early European contact in the late eighteenth century, the image of Polynesia has been replicated and reinforced through narratives, fiction, art and films. These images in turn have become part of the linguistic circles and tautology identified with the language of tourism (Dann 1996:65–67).

From the beginning, Western contact with Polynesia was cast in terms of encountering not only a distant land, but a distant time. Pacific peoples were frequently represented as akin to ancient Greeks and Romans. A number of early artists depicted islanders in the heroic proportions of classical statuary, sometimes wearing Grecian robes or Roman togas (Smith 1984). Even without such trappings, it was widely assumed that the South Pacific echoed a much earlier version of the West’s self. As Dennis Porter points out, however, the actions of early voyagers forced the islands into European historical time ( Porter 1991:99). Captain Samuel Wallis and the crew of the Dolphin, who in 1767 became the first Europeans to visit Tahiti, planted an English flag of possession. The following year Louis de Bougainville similarly claimed France’s right of discovery by burying an inscribed oak board there. These claims of “discovery” brought the islands not only into the West’s political ambit but its time frame.

During the 19th century the mystique of the South Pacific as a static utopia was greatly augmented by the burgeoning literature of adventure, romance and empire. In large part writers on the South Pacific took their inspiration from each other’s works. Julien Viaud (also known as Pierre Loti) was hooked on Polynesia while still a boy after his older brother gave him a book titled Voyage en Polynesie which included illustrations of garlanded and bare-breasted women (Rennie 1995:208). Paul Gauguin was much influenced by Viaud’s The Marriage of Loti, which he drew on in constructing his own Tahitian experience in the book Noa Noa (Sweetman 1995:368). In turn, Gauguin inspired Somerset Maugham’s novel The Moon and Sixpence (1919). Jack London attributes his determination to visit the South Seas to his reading of Herman Melville’s Typee, having “many long hours … dreamed over its pages” (London 1971:154). Before permanently departing for the South Pacific in 1888, Robert Louis Stevenson was also well acquainted with Melville’s Typee (Rennie 1995:211). In fact he was introduced to Melville’s work by another writer of South Sea tales, Charles Stoddard ( Smith 1998:110). Western literature on the South Seas formed what might be termed a “representational loop”, profoundly shaping the expectations of writer to writer.

In the 20th century stereotypes of the South Seas as “timeless” were further consolidated by cinema. By the 1930s actress Dorothy Lamour became famous for her portrayal of South Sea sex sirens clad in a sarong (Brawley and Dixon 1993:18), reminiscent of the nubile women described by early explorers and scores of nineteenth century novelists. For many US servicemen stationed in the South Pacific during the Second World War such movies created false expectations. Nevertheless, Hollywood continued to churn out stereotypical representations of the Pacific islands. Even though one of the themes of James Michener’s novel Tales of the South Pacific (Michener 1947) was the disillusionment of servicemen suffering from the “Dorothy Lamour syndrome”, his stories inspired the hugely successful Broadway musical South Pacific in 1949 and the subsequent movie released in 1958.

While generally ignoring indigenous history, advertising continually draws on this legacy of Western representation. Although tourism literature often explicitly denies the process of historical change and the impact of Western contact, the same literature draws on Western historical commentary to validate the desirability of the South Pacific. For instance, one advertisement for Tahiti vacations begins with a quotation attributed to Captain Cook in 1769, proclaiming that “Scarcely a spot in the universe affords a more luxurious prospect” (Swingaway World Holidays, , 1995. . Tourist Brochure.Swingaway World Holidays 1995/6:2). Of course this ad uses historical images very selectively. Not surprisingly, it omits any reference to British territorial ambitions or the likely spread of venereal disease by Cook’s crew. The same brochure also draws on more recent Pacific myth-making, noting that Moorea “has often been likened to James Michener’s mythical island Bali Hai.” Air Vanuatu has drawn on the fact that Michener was stationed in Vanuatu during World War II, and used his island experience to write Tales of the South Pacific. “South Pacific”—a timeless classic inspired by the timeless Islands—proclaims one Air Vanuatu promotion (Adelaide Festival Center Trust 1993). Significantly it is the history of Michener and the American musical which takes precedence over the islands’ own history.

Much of what constitutes the desirability of the South Pacific is in fact its place in popular fiction, travelogues and films. Thus, a Club Med brochure (Club Med 1995:30) informs that Tahiti was “For centuries the world’s most wanted destination and the inspiration of poets, writers and artists.” A common strategy of South Pacific vacation advertising is to include a rollcall of noteworthy Western visitors, who are noteworthy precisely because of their contribution to the romanticized images of the Pacific. An Adventure World tourist brochure informs that “Artists such as Gauguin found his Shangri-La in Tahiti; Robert Louis Stevenson escaped to Samoa; Captain James Cook loved the Polynesian society so much that he chose to ‘discover’ it three times” ( Adventure World 1998:2). A travel piece on the Marquesas similarly dwells on earlier Western visitors. The article begins with a quotation from Melville’s Typee, notes that Robert Louis Stevenson passed through and that Paul Gauguin is buried there (Kurosawa 1998:24). This type of name-dropping is not uncommon in tourist advertising ( Dann 1996:176). What is perhaps distinctive in the case of the Pacific Islands is the way in which the notables themselves are part of the historical image-making process. Tourism advertising of the South Pacific often simultaneously denies and evokes a sense of history. On the one hand, it appeals to a postmodern desire to stop the clock, escape the relentless pace of change, and experience a “timeless” culture. At the same time, though, tourism literature continually circulates historical representations from Western contact. While this literature commonly portrays the South Seas as an untouched paradise, that same literature unselfconsciously confirms the role of Western intruders in shaping that image.