Emotions ran high at the governor’s emergency proclamation news conference last week. Heartbreaking stories were shared about nurses and teachers leaving the islands, and interns dreaming of moving home — albeit with little details connecting these plights with the proclamation’s actual language.

As we know, however, crises require cool heads, careful analysis, and a focus on relevant facts — lest a dire situation be made even worse. Unfortunately, the factual matter of what this proclamation says should be cause for deep concern, for nearly everyone calling Hawaii home. It not only rolls back decades of protections for our environmental and cultural integrity, but also attacks the very foundations of our democratic society, for a purported “solution” that would cause much more harm than good.

First, the use of emergency powers to whack-a-mole the complex and multifaceted housing crisis sets an incredibly dangerous precedent. What would distinguish this action from a future governor making an emotional declaration of “crime” as an emergency — and then adopting his own laws for curfew hours and fast-tracking private prison development, regardless of community input, social impacts or the foreclosure of other public health and safety solutions?

Second, all of us concerned with the state budget should know that the proclamation suspends the Legislature’s role in directing how taxpayer dollars are spent. It also suspends the statutory procurement processes for competitive bidding that safeguard against waste and corruption. In other words, money set aside for any other purpose could be redirected behind the scenes to hand- selected corporations, for anything remotely related to housing.

Third, the proclamation suspends our Sunshine Law — a bedrock of government transparency ensuring public notice of board and commission meetings, as well as the public’s right to testify. Any state or county board, commission or council could meet without public notice and make any housing-related decisions, including over infrastructure and energy development, without public input.

Fourth, the proclamation’s housing policies are controversial at best and harmful at worst. The proclamation lacks any affordability requirements, income limits, or a meaningful definition of “Hawaii resident.” Nothing would prevent the predictable outcome, where new arrivals with cash in hand quickly snap up new homes — placing even more of our limited developable lands and resources into the hands of the most fortunate, further widening our wealth gap, and driving more kama‘aina off-island.

Addressing Section 8 discrimination, tackling our ongoing short-term rental problems, and regulating private equity firms that buy and flip rental housing are just some of many, many strategies that would target actual, direct causes of local residents’ housing woes. Such strategies would not benefit developers, however, and do not appear to be on the governor’s radar.

Fifth, the proclamation places our food security at risk. Its decimation of the Land Use Commission’s authority would allow agricultural lands to be summarily approved for development, 100 acres at a time, without express, fact-based conditions to minimize impacts to present or future local food production. This could also happen without public notice or input, given the Sunshine Law suspension.

Sixth, the proclamation’s supposed safeguards are illusory. The lead housing officer (LHO) can approve and negotiate projects without any review or approval by the much-touted 22-member “Build Beyond Barriers Working Group,” which itself lacks the expertise to evaluate the myriad considerations associated with development in Hawaii, including our limited and fragile resources, dire need for water and food security, and unique island values.

This all powerful “LHO” also holds sole authority to investigate and enforce compliance with everything from owner- occupancy requirements to construction and community commitments — a Herculean task for one project, much less dozens involving tens of thousands of housing units across the islands. Enforcement would also be literally impossible after the intended one-year life of the proclamation, as the lead housing officer position it creates would no longer exist.

Emotions aside, the facts of the matter are that even beyond an environmental and cultural lens — through which its failings are obvious and alarming — this proclamation is an affront to our system of government, fiscal accountability, public transparency and the socioeconomic realities of life in our islands. Those of us recognizing its potential for long-lasting harm will do our best to see it rescinded. Will you join us?