As a western-trained Ph.D. scientist and a Native Hawaiian kahuna kākalaleo, I have two lenses through which I look at the need for mālama honua, or caring for our place. In no uncertain terms, we live on an extraordinary archipelago, from the Haleakalā cinderlands as dry as any of the world’s deserts, to arguably the wettest spot on Earth at Wai‘ale‘ale. From Mo‘omomi’s coastal dunes at sea level, to snow-capped volcanic summits just shy of 14,000 feet. From the glowing hot lands that were created just this morning on the slopes of Kīlauea, to climax forest supporting thousands of species.
The Hawaiian islands boast more ecological diversity in one location than any other place on Earth. Brazil, fifth-largest country in the world, encompasses fewer ecological habitats than our tiny island chain. Because of the number of possible lifezones here, if you had to choose only one location on Earth to represent the full range of the planet’s ecosystems, it would be Hawai‘i.
Our footprint on this remarkable and precious ecology today is hugely and blithely destructive. On O‘ahu, 85 percent of our native ecosystem cover has been lost just a scant 235 years since explorer James Cook encountered the islands in 1778. Our self-sufficiency has plummeted; 80 percent to 90 percent of our needs are imported these days. Clearly, we lost the key to island sustainability.
Which brings us to what the Mālama Honua Voyage shares with the world. Of all the traditional Hawaiian values, the one most globally recognized today is aloha: empathetic compassion; love. The aloha you hold for family extends in Hawaiian thought to all the elements of nature around you in your ‘āina, the lands of your place, and emerges as aloha ‘āina — a deep appreciation and love for all features of the land, with the realization that you are not whole without your place. The fate and health of your place is essentially your own fate, your own health.
Without aloha ‘āina, it is all too easy to dismiss the land as "wasted" when it is not put to "highest and best use." And modern ideas of such use have been so patently single-minded. Any formula for land use that replaces huge native diversity with a single thing — be it cows, pineapples or tourists — will ultimately destroy the foundation upon which our lives and identity depend.
And what represents the heart of Hawaiian identity? In 1976, when Hōkūle‘a arrived in Pape‘ete harbor — to throngs of thousands — it was clear she had ignited the spark of a powerful cultural renaissance, instilling pride and hope in Hawaiians, and setting us on a course to recapture the traditional knowledge and skills that created both ecological sustainability and a remarkably rich society.
Now, nearly 40 years later, Hōkūle‘a is on a voyage to circle the globe spreading aloha and a call to care for our planet as our island — our canoe. Hikianalia, Hōkūle‘a’s sister canoe, has the latest advanced technologies — solar panels, satellite tracking, and live internet updates — to travel in parallel with traditional Hawaiian wayfinding. They travel across Earth’s oceans demonstrating that the traditional and modern sciences, twined together by ancient and time-tested values, create a worthy model for finding a sustainable future.
That blend of old and new can be our salvation in Hawai‘i, and by extension, the world. We can move forward with the best that science can offer to undo the damage of the past and restore the health of our ecosystems. We can base that work on the best of ancient values — lessons of island self-sufficiency, reverent relationships between people and the lands and waters that sustain them, and relationships between each other as collective kahu, caretakers of the planet.
And that, I know, is the greatest gift this voyage brings to Hawai‘i and the world. Aloha.
Sam ‘Ohukaniʻōhi‘a Gon III is senior scientist and cultural adviser for The Nature Conservancy of Hawai‘i. He was education resource specialist on Leg 9 of the Mālama Honua Voyage.
