Trump’s return spurs Hawai’i’s independence movement

Editor’s note: Apart from those of mixed race, Native Hawaiians and other Pacific Islanders do not consider themselves to be Asian. JoySauce and Mixed Asian Media publish this article in solidarity with Pasifika communities.

CONTENT WARNING: This article mentions sexual violence, sex trafficking, and death.

On Dec. 10, 2022, a bright, sunny day, traffic at an intersection in Oʻahu, Hawaiʻi, came to a complete stop. People marched through the road, chanting, “Shut down Red Hill!” They carried signs reading, “Ola I Ka Wai!,” “Water Is Life,” and “Navy Lies Poisoned Wai.” They waved red, white and blue flags—not of the United States, but of pre-annexation Hawai’i—that snapped open in the wind. They were protesting an ongoing case concerning the U.S. Navy leaking jet fuel into the only aquifer in Oʻahu. One year earlier, the incident had poisoned thousands of people, one of many crises symptomatic of the climate emergency plaguing Hawaiʻi under U.S. control.

Since the forcible seizure of Hawaiʻi by the United States in 1893, Native Hawaiians, or kānaka maoli, have endured more than 130 years of exploitation and environmental destruction. “We are Hawaiian by birth and American by force,” says Makanalani Gomes, a core member of AF³IRM Hawaii, a grassroots organization fighting imperialism and fascism through transnational feminist activism. Today, this enduring colonial presence—manifested in U.S. militarism and tourism—intensifies the climate crises, fueling renewed urgency in the movement to restore the occupied Kingdom of Hawaiʻi.

After a leak in May 2021, another in November released 20,000 gallons of fuel into Pearl Harbor’s local aquifers at Red Hill, exposing the toxic chemical to 93,000 people. Without testing the water, the Navy informed families in military housing that it was “safe to drink.” However, the Hawai’i Department of Health found jet fuel contaminants 350 times higher than safety standards. At least 6,000 people reported rashes, nausea, vomiting and, in some cases, potentially chronic respiratory difficulties.

In three reports, the Department of Defense Office of the Inspector General detailed how the U.S. Navy ignored approximately 6,000 detections of lead in drinking water, remained “woefully unaware of their own spill prevention and response plans to the extent such plans did exist,” and failed to disclose or clean up spills of a firefighting foam containing toxic forever chemicals, which now pose a centuries-long threat to future generations. Ninety-nine percent of Hawai’i’s drinking water comes from land aquifers. Following public protests and backlash, the Navy completed draining the fuel in 2024.

“The military has destroyed our sacred sites, our water, (and) poisoned our people,” says Healani Sonoda-Pale, spokesperson for Ka Lāhui Hawai’i and member of Red Hill Community Representation Initiative (CRI). “Water is becoming the central issue in so many social and environmental justice movements,” she added, citing how environmentalists and organizers across Hawai’i—including government officials, women in the military and military families—are now collaborating with CRI. “It’s brought more humanity to this movement because we’re connecting on another level.”

The U.S. Navy continues to use sacred kānaka maoli land for its own operations, including the international joint military exercise Rim of the Pacific, (RIMPAC), where bombs and chemical white phosphorus—used by Israeli forces on Palestinian civilians in Gaza—are tested. Since March 2024, Sonoda-Pale notes, the military has refused to attend CRI’s series of community testimonial hearings.

“They can hide behind ‘national security,’” she says. “Their presence and poisoning of our environment, especially our water and land, is the real risk to national security.”

Sonoda-Pale then recalled how she was taught in public schools that Hawai’i’s economy relies on a U.S. presence. “They’ve done a really good job of ingraining in us how much we need tourism and militarism,” she says. “(They said) we won’t have jobs, we won’t have homes, food, if we don’t have these industries. That’s part of colonialism here.”

Capitalism’s climate catastrophe

On Aug. 8, 2023, a downed pole carrying telecommunications lines sparked a fire in Lahaina, Maui. The two-day fire killed 102 people, but the Department of Land and Natural Resources did not divert water to fight it.

Many have argued that the Lahaina fires could have been prevented or mitigated if not for companies like Alexander & Baldwin (A&B), which, alongside its subsidiary East Maui Irrigation, had been diverting 40.4 million gallons of water per day for shopping centers and commercial buildings. Founded in 1870, A&B touts itself as Hawai’i’s “premier commercial real estate company.”

“Even before the ’80s, tens of thousands of acres of watershed lands were being dewatered by Alexander & Baldwin,” says Wayne Chung Tanaka, executive director at the Sierra Club of Hawai’i. “Whoever controls our water controls our islands and (our) future.”

Concerns over corporate water use led to legal challenges. In the months before the Lahaina fire, an environmental court judge ordered A&B and East Maui Irrigation to reduce their daily water intake from East Maui streams from 40.4 million gallons to 31.5 million gallons. The day after the fires devastated Lahaina, the Hawai’i attorney general’s office filed court papers alleging that the ruling had weakened the county’s firefighting ability. Days later, the Hawai’i Supreme Court issued a “stinging rebuke,” calling the state’s arguments frivolous and riddled with false claims. The court ruled that the state should pay the Sierra Club of Hawai’i’s attorney fees.

Meanwhile, in a corporate responsibility report, A&B highlighted its role in disaster relief. The company used its Napili Plaza, seven miles away, as “an emergency command center for first responders,” providing health care, food and water, donated $50,000 in nonprofit aid, and offered all employees 40 hours of paid time off to assist. Notably, the report omitted the attorney general’s claim that A&B fought the fires with its water supply.

“(The attorney general) only sought to bring water to a former plantation, now real estate investment trust,” says Tanaka, referring to what he calls a blatant lie. “(It) shows how deep the corruption goes.”

The company responsible for the downed wire, Hawaiian Electric, later reached a tentative $4 billion dollar deal with tenants.

Tourism, which supports shopping centers like those listed at A&B, has also been widely blamed for the water crisis. Although the industry uses about five percent of the water supplies, tourists use the same amount as residents per capita. By 2019, American and Japanese tourists equaled 12 percent of O‘ahu’s resident population. Golf courses, a tourist attraction, use more than 211 million gallons of Hawaiian water per year.

Furthermore, Sonoda-Pale condemned tourism’s commodification of culture, such as hula, a historically sacred dance with connections to nature.

“(Tourism) caused so much damage to our people,” Sonoda-Pale says. “It’s monetized what we deemed spiritual and made that a commodity. Everybody wants a piece of being Hawaiian.”

The U.S. military also benefits from tourism, including discounts, special lodging and sex trafficking. In 2019, the Office of Hawaiian Affairs revealed a disturbing pattern: Of those arrested in Operation Keiki Shield for soliciting sex from a 13-year-old girl online, 38 percent were active duty.

“(Tourism) caused so much damage to our people,” Sonoda-Pale says. “It’s monetized what we deemed spiritual and made that a commodity. Everybody wants a piece of being Hawaiian.”

Gomes cited Hawaiian sovereignty philosopher and activist Haunani-Kay Trask, who wrote about the “prostitution” of culture and linked such exploitation to environmental degradation. “The degradation being done to land is the degradation being done to feminine people,” Gomes says. “Land back, bodies back.”

For many kānaka maoli, tourism’s environmental impact became more apparent during the COVID-19 lockdown when the islands experienced a brief return to nature. Sonoda-Pale celebrated how the community could enjoy the beaches without tourist harassment. For every one percent decline in tourists, hotel water usage dropped by 0.46 percent.

“The air was cleaner,” she says. “The water was cleaner. The fish came back.”

All that vanished when restrictions lifted and tourists returned.

“COVID is what actually opened people’s eyes to what Hawai’i could be, to what Hawai’i used to be,” she adds.

Restoration and return: Policy and advocacy solutions

On a sunny Jan. 17, 2025, just days before President Donald Trump’s inauguration, kānaka maoli organized the ’Onipaʻa Peace March to mark 132 years since the illegal overthrow of Queen Liliʻuokalani and advocate for the return of the Hawaiian Islands. Locals filled the streets, waving the Hawaiian flag.