Did somebody mention Alan Arakawa for governor in 2018?
Doesn’t look like it.
If the Maui mayor had his eye on statewide office, he wouldn’t be trying his best to line up enemies and rattle friends.
First, he angered the anti-GMO club on Maui when he wouldn’t support an islandwide moratorium on genetically modified crops.
But the vocal minority of ag-fearing activists are not an overwhelming political force in Hawaii. They might talk loud, write scary letters to the editors and share convincingly sincere videos on social media, but a politician can survive without them.
Then, Arakawa insulted the rocks. The county project to restore parts of Iao Valley after last year’s devastating flood involved the removal of large rocks from the stream bed. Hawaiian activists were incensed at what they called desecration. Instead of striking a note of understanding and conciliation, Arakawa chose the nuclear option, proclaiming that there is no such thing as sacred rocks because the Hawaiian monarchy had declared Christianity to be the religion of the islands.
Oh my (his) God.
Arakawa later apologized. But he wasn’t done setting fire to his future.
He then said he wants to close the county’s Waiehu Golf Course. Talk about political suicide.
Waiehu is where Grandpa Toshi and Uncle Melvin and all the retired postal carriers in Central Maui go to get their exercise and socialization. It is where the Action Aunties go in their white shorts and lau hala hats to whack a few balls in the morning sunshine before heading to the clubhouse for talk-story over kalua pig nachos. It’s retired union guys. Retired state and county workers. Arakawa turned on his own people.
Kirk Caldwell, who campaigned so hard for possibly the most thankless job in the history of the City and County of Honolulu, would never threaten to close the city’s Ala Wai Golf Course — because he’s politically savvy and fully aware of who shows up to vote in local elections, but also because it’s kind of a moral issue.
Kauai Mayor Bernard Carvalho would never consider closing the county’s municipal course in Wailua — the windy strip of grass across the road from the jail and just up from the wastewater treatment plant. Even the folks who don’t golf would be furious.
Municipal courses are for local residents, the unfancy folks who worked hard for everything they have and don’t throw money away on fun and games except for this one modestly priced luxury. The greens should be called browns — there’s more sand on the fairway than at the beach — but these folks love their scruffy public courses the way they love Wahine volleyball, mochiko chicken and sale days at Longs.
A municipal golf course is like the last frontier, one of the few places where being the average local is an advantage over being a rich tourist. Even hinting at closing a municipal course is what a politician does when he’s sick of serving the public and thinking of taking up skiing.
Reach Lee Cataluna at 529-4315 or lcataluna@staradvertiser.com.
