hawaii fact

Hawaii five-no: the scourge of separatism

IF you were gliding through the Honolulu airport at the beginning of your honeymoon, you might smirk upon encountering the T-shirts emblazoned with "The natives are restless." You might even buy one as a souvenir, before heading out to a resort for two weeks of surf and sun, and a generous helping of the convivial Aloha Spirit (which is actually defined by law). Two short weeks later, you'd hop on a plane and go home, with fond memories. It's unlikely you would have paid any attention to local politics. But if you had, you would have a far different impression of Hawaii than that afforded by sunset luaus and ivory beaches: The natives in Hawaii really are restless, and the Aloha Spirit--the omnipresent call to "emote good feelings to others"--has atrophied beneath a furious debate over the future of Hawaii's extensive network of race-exclusive programs.

"The perception is that Hawaii is something you win on an afternoon game show," says Sam Slom, a prominent businessman and one of only five Republicans in Hawaii's state senate. The reality, he explains, is far different: "A growing number of people here . . . have become anti-American." He is referring to the Hawaiian separatist movement, which used to be a fringe element of Hawaiian society, but has during the past few decades become so mainstream that the state's two Democratic senators and Republican governor are now pushing a bill through Congress that will establish a race-based governing entity for native Hawaiians. ("Native" in this context may be a misnomer, since the proposed government would be allowed to choose its own definition.) U.S. senator Daniel Akaka, the bill's author, has acknowledged that this native entity could eventually secede, taking some of Hawaii's land with it.

The Akaka bill is just the latest battle in a long Hawaiian war over multiculturalism, race entitlements, and the American way. When Hawaii joined the Union in 1959, statehood was very popular: An astounding 94 percent voted in favor. "We were so proud to be Americans," says Slom. "We had worked so hard for statehood because we had to prove to Congress that we weren't a bunch of savages out here." But in the years since, multiculturalism arrived, and with it, the Hawaiian-rights movement: "This is an incredible culture, but it's been taken over and radicalized." These days, the government won't even acknowledge Statehood Day, which used to be a raucous celebration, because it might prove too divisive. Slom was the sole member of the legislature to vote against a resolution supporting the Akaka bill.

"People think they're entitled to something taken from their ancestors ages ago," says Malia Zimmerman, Hawaii's most prominent conservative journalist. In reality, it's not even clear that anything was taken from ordinary native Hawaiians, since the monarchy owned and controlled most of the land. But this hasn't stopped the Akaka bill's proponents from casting the debate in stark reparation terms: Native-exclusive programs are a debt the U.S. owes to Hawaiians--though details of the alleged past transgressions are scant, or exaggerated--and without the bill, all native-only programs will be in danger. There is some validity to this last assertion. In 2000, the Supreme Court ruled that native-only voting restrictions for the board of a quasi-independent state agency, the Office of Hawaiian Affairs (OHA), were illegal. (OHA was conceived to benefit natives.) Just a few weeks ago, the Ninth Circuit Court, not exactly a bulwark of conservative thought, struck down a native-only admission policy at Kamehameha Schools. In response, over 20,000 Hawaiians took to the streets to protest, armed with hula skirts, pictures of deposed queen Liliuokalani, and the bright red T-shirts of the independence movement. They weren't the only ones who were upset. Gov. Linda Lingle said that "regardless of the legal basis of [the Kamehameha] decision, this is not a just decision."

These attitudes stoke the fires of the Akaka-bill movement. State attorney general Mark Bennett--like Lingle, a Republican--continues to argue that 40,000 natives living on lands held in trust by the federal government could lose their homes if Akaka's legislation isn't enacted. Lingle and Bennett reserve their harshest condemnation for those opposed to the bill on principle, accusing them of engaging in "baseless speculation," and making "specious claims" and "very wild arguments."

Slom and Zimmerman have weathered this storm. They're largely responsible for bringing the Akaka bill to the attention of the general Hawaiian public; until the past few weeks, it had remained a stealth issue of interest chiefly to the bill's backers. "When you're the only one standing up, you're a contrarian or a racist or a gadfly," Slom says. "Nobody likes to be called a racist, nobody wants to be called insensitive. It allows these things like separatist movements ... to expand."

The pro-Akaka forces also have a wealthy state agency on their side: the Office of Hawaiian Affairs, established in 1978, which now has over $300 million in assets and an annual budget around $30 million. What exactly does this entity--perhaps the country's largest diversity bureaucracy--do to help natives? Aside from protecting "Native Hawaiian rights and entitlements," and safeguarding "endangered traditions, practices and rights," one of its main goals is creating "a unified Hawaiian nation" by 2007. To this end, OHA has paid the powerhouse lobbying firm Patton Boggs $400,000 to push the bill in Congress.

The agency is notoriously wasteful. A state audit earlier this year found that the "OHAhas shown little improvement in its ability to serve Hawaiians since our last audit in 2001.... The Board of Trustees still has not provided the State with a comprehensive master plan for bettering the conditions of native Hawaiians and Hawaiians.... OHA is still grappling with the effects of poorly planned reorganizations. ... OHA lacks basic policies and procedures to guide the actions of its staff, and its organizational charts and functional statements are inconsistent.... OHA's casual administration of its finances does not demonstrate respect for its fiduciary duty to all Hawaiians.... Certain protocol and trustee expenditures appear questionable." There have, however, been a few improvements: Unlike the last audit, this one did not find any trustees giving themselves interest-free loans, or buying dentures with OHA money.

The absurdities of the OHA are not incidental to the native-rights debate: They are in fact fundamental to it, for they represent a small-scale model of what the new governing entity could become. There will be the same entrenched self-interests, wielding a tremendous budget, but what little oversight there is now will be removed. And of course, since the OHA has spearheaded the independent-government movement, and has connections with the whole native-rights community, you can bet that its administrators will have the inside track on positions in the new government.

There is, naturally, an electoral element to all this: Lingle is the state's first Republican governor in 40 years, and is thought to be angling to replace one of the state's Democratic senators upon retirement (both are in their eighties). If the Akaka bill can help woo Hawaii, long a Democratic stronghold, into the GOP's camp, then the national party will surely support her candidacy. (Lingle already has the ear of the president: She campaigned relentlessly for him last year, delivered a speech at the national convention, and was the only GOP governor invited to the final presidential debate.)

Last year Republicans made state-level inroads across the nation, but in Hawaii the party lost five seats in the state house and gained nothing in the senate. Lingle's agenda has come to a grinding halt this year, and about the only campaign promise she's keeping these days is the one about supporting the Akaka bill. She's pinned much of her own political future on its success. If the Akaka bill doesn't pass muster in D.C., it will mark another failure for Lingle. If it does pass Congress, and the new government is a surprising success, it will remain a Democratic initiative pushed through by Democratic senators. There's one other likely outcome: If the Akaka bill becomes law, and Hawaii descends into racial chaos, Lingle will have to shoulder part of the blame not just for failing to prevent the measure, but for actively lobbying on its behalf. "She's putting a huge knife into the Republican party," Zimmerman says, and the political fallout could set the GOP back even further in Hawaii.

The Akaka bill is a terrible piece of legislation. Yet even the worst laws often have a silver lining: Like a carefully performed biopsy, they reveal something about our society that we couldn't see before. What the Akaka bill shows, unfortunately, is how far down the "diversity" road we've traveled, and how easy it is for radical activists--alleging spurious grievances--to advance an ill-conceived agenda.

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