How Can a Story Carry the Ocean, the Stars, and a Promise? Community-Led Children's Publishing Through 'mulaka makalina'
Original Chinese title: 一個故事如何同時承載海洋、星空與承諾?從《mulaka makalina》談社群主導的兒童出版
Starting from AIATSIS's 2026 new book announcement, this article examines Indigenous creators' rights to interpret their stories, children's reading, and publishing licensing.
Sulangal
Puyuma senior cultural and visual media practitioner focusing on Indigenous digital representation, language revitalization, and cultural safety.

# How Can a Story Carry the Ocean, the Stars, and a Promise? Community-Led Children's Publishing Through 'mulaka makalina'
Before a Story Enters the Classroom, Ask Who Is Speaking
A picture book for children is often imagined as simple text plus pretty illustrations; however, when the story originates from an Indigenous community, publishing is not merely translating the plot into sentences readers can understand, but also involves who transmits the knowledge, who has the right to rewrite it, whether images are appropriate, and how educators introduce this culture to children. The Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies (AIATSIS) announced the new book 'mulaka makalina – hunting stingray' on October 27, 2026. The work was created by trawlwoolway cultural practitioner Dave mangenner Gough, with illustrations by Dagoman artist Samantha Campbell, scheduled for publication on November 5. This sequence is worth clarifying: October 27 is the new book announcement, not proof that it has already been officially released.
According to AIATSIS new book announcement, the author has rewritten an old story into a work suitable for contemporary readers, discussing promise, trust, listening to elders, and the relationship between people and the ocean and the stars. If it is introduced merely as an 'Australian myth story', readers easily overlook a more important fact: the cultural practitioner is the one who actively decides how the story enters public publishing, not a passive source of materials waiting to be collected. What publishers and schools should respect first is this creative position.
The Ocean and the Stars Are Not Materials That Can Be Pasted at Will
The public introduction of the work mentions elements such as the ocean, ancestors, the stars, promise, and facing peer pressure. They can guide children to think about relationships, choices, and responsibilities, but one cannot, because a reader is curious about one element, extract the vocabulary from the story and produce a self-proclaimed complete traditional ritual textbook. For editors who do not belong to the community, the easiest mistake is to treat cultural symbols as building blocks that anyone can freely assemble. Even if images are visible online, it does not mean the original author has authorized others to replicate them, retrain generative models, or use them to package activities for another community.
This article only adopts information already publicly released by the creators and publishing institutions; it does not recount book pages, does not copy illustrations, does not simulate reading voices, and does not speculate on unpublished cultural details. This boundary does not make education impoverished; rather, it lets students know that understanding culture and possessing culture are two different behaviors. Learning to respect the source, attribution, and context of a story is itself important media literacy. The ocean and the stars in the story should not be converted into decorative totems that are 'universal to all Indigenous peoples'.
Seeing Promise and Care Through Children's Reading
For young readers, a promise might be agreeing to play with a friend today and suddenly changing one's mind tomorrow; trust might be willing to believe family reminders, or it might be the experience of mutual support among friends. Teachers can start from these everyday situations, asking children how they face pressure, why they should understand the care behind reminders, how to repair relationships after a promise is broken, rather than requiring children to recite a string of unfamiliar cultural terms. This teaching arrangement lets the ethical issues raised by the story enter daily life, and does not require claiming to have the qualification to explain the community's entire knowledge.
However, educators cannot simplify all stories into universal 'life lessons'. The same narrative may have more complex geographical, kinship, and historical connections within a specific community. If a classroom only has the four words 'keep one's word', it erases the authorship and locality of the work. A better approach is to place life discussions alongside the work's context: first clearly state who created the work and which community it comes from, then let children share their feelings; if further understanding of cultural vocabulary is needed, return to explanations and formal educational resources already publicly released by the creators.
How Libraries and Schools Choose Indigenous Works
AIATSIS's educational resource selection guide emphasizes that textbooks should not only be judged by whether the content is vivid, but also by examining Indigenous authors, perspectives, collaborative relationships, and potential harm to students. This principle can be translated into concrete procurement and lesson-planning questions: Does the book clearly indicate the creator? Does it respect ethnic and regional differences? Does the publisher explain the source of data and the mode of collaboration? Can teachers distinguish the work's formal published version from screenshots of unknown origin? When readers raise questions, does the school know which credible institution to verify with?
An excellent textbook evaluation form, besides knowledge accuracy, should also have rights and context fields. For example, can the story be read aloud by students, can it be displayed within the school, can the full recording be uploaded, can book pages be used as AI image training material? The answers are not necessarily the same. If an educational institution assumes it holds all reuse rights because it has bought the book, it confuses purchasing the reading carrier with obtaining reproduction licensing. Libraries can establish simple licensing records so teachers know the scope of use before borrowing and course production.
Digital Archives and AI Applications Require Layered Licensing
When a book enters a digital teaching platform, it may simultaneously involve cover images, interior illustrations, author introductions, voice readings, Indigenous language vocabulary, student discussion records, and AI Q&A. The licensing sources, visibility scope, and retention periods of these materials differ. Technical teams should establish clear source mapping tables, separating publicly citable publishing information from restricted voices, images, and cultural content. External chatbots can answer publicly available bibliographic and publishing information; they should not automatically output full stories, voices, or unpublished explanations simply because they retrieve restricted files.
So-called Two-Eyed Seeing is not letting AI explain everything for the community, but allowing community knowledge and educational technology to each retain their judgment rights. Technology can assist cataloging, provide accessibility, and generate questions at different reading levels; the community has the right to decide which materials are suitable for translation, which words should not be simplified, and when corrections or withdrawals are needed. This collaboration should not stop at signing a license agreement; it also requires update procedures that can respond to the opinions of rights holders.
What Can the Taiwan Education Scene Learn From
Taiwan schools and local cultural institutions also often face similar difficulties: teachers want to take students to understand tribal stories but are unsure whether certain video clips can be played; students use generative AI to create classroom works but do not know that certain patterns and rituals are not suitable for arbitrary redrawing. The Australian case cannot be directly taken as a common norm for all Taiwan ethnic groups, but it reminds us that lesson plans should mark ethnicity, source, rights holder, public scope, and review status at the very beginning, rather than remedying after the work goes online. Differences among ethnic groups must be concretely defined by local communities.
Practically, teachers can divide reading activities into three levels: first read texts that are already publicly released and formally published; second identify the author and the work's context; third let students reflect on who they should confirm with if they want to rewrite, voice, illustrate, or upload. Assessment does not have to only test how many cultural terms are remembered; it can see whether students can identify data sources, know that cultural knowledge has different usage boundaries, and respect original creators when proposing new ideas.
Publishing Is Not the End, Relationships Are the Beginning
The value of a children's work lies not only in sales figures or image aesthetics, but in allowing community creators to participate in public cultural education in their own way. The publishing information announced by AIATSIS provides a clear observation window: who tells the story, who completes the illustrations, how the publisher introduces the author, and how schools use it responsibly. These questions are more fundamental than 'can we quickly make a set of AI textbooks'. Truly mature digital cultural education should let children learn to appreciate stories and respect the storytellers at the same time.
If one day, after reading the work, students not only remember the images of the ocean and the stars but also ask 'Who is willing to share this story with us?', then reading moves from absorbing content to understanding relationships. Respect for Indigenous knowledge is not locking the story away so people cannot read it, but ensuring that every reading, citation, teaching, and technical conversion retains space for the creators and the community to respond.
Three Levels for Children to Identify Cultural Information
Schools can let students compare three different kinds of information: the first is bibliographic data and creator introductions publicly released by publishing institutions, which are facts that can be clearly attributed; the second is readers' feelings and questions after reading, which can be discussed but cannot be impersonated as the author's intent; the third is ritual details, oral traditions, or community-restricted data without authorization, even if someone claims 'it can be found online', cannot be directly used as teaching material. Separating these three layers helps students build information ethics, rather than treating every search result as copyable material.
In the AI era, students may ask chatbots to 'draw a picture exactly like this book' or 'rewrite the story into a certain community's festival'. Teachers can use this opportunity to demonstrate better questioning: ask the model to introduce publicly published information, propose reading discussion questions, and clearly mark which content requires the original author or rights holder's consent. If the model answers too confidently, teachers should also guide students to check official book pages, rather than believing it represents the cultural community because the answer flows smoothly.
For local cultural institutions, establishing licensing registries and contact windows does not necessarily have to be expensive, but can avoid massive corrections later. At least record source, purpose of use, public scope, licensing period, whether re-licensing is allowed, withdrawal procedures, and who responds externally. Such a system can simultaneously protect creators, teachers, and students, and turn cultural education from one-off activities into sustainable collaborative relationships.
Readers can also distinguish an announcement from an available edition. A new-book announcement introduces a work to the public; it does not make unreleased material freely available. Schools planning activities before publication can begin with the institution's public bibliographic information, then confirm the relevant edition and conditions before deciding how to read or display it. This avoids turning promotional information into an assumed complete teaching resource or additional permission.
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