Over my two decades living, organizing and working in Hawaiʻi, Hawaiian sovereignty has often been posited as foil to American occupation, framed as impractical or impossible, applying only to Kānaka Maoli, or simply a “Native Hawaiian Issue.”

I would argue that now, more than ever, all people rooted in these islands must contemplate this together, for the sake of our earth, our keiki, and future generations.

The history of U.S. involvement in our islands is one of military occupation and environmental destruction. From the illegal overthrow of Queen Liliʻuokalani  and the lawful Hawaiian government in 1893, to the present-day use of our lands as training grounds for war, the U.S. military has taken from Hawaiʻi without regard for its people or ecosystems.

A Special Commentary Project

Civil Beat opinion writers are closely following efforts to bring more transparency and accountability to state and local government — at the Legislature, the county level and in the media. Help us by sending ideas and anecdotes to sunshine@civilbeat.org.

Read More

The consequences are devastating. At Red Hill, the Navy knowingly contaminated Oʻahu’s water supply by allowing massive fuel leaks into the aquifer, jeopardizing the health of thousands. On Kahoʻolawe, the U.S. military bombed the island so ruthlessly, it cracked the fresh water aquifer, bringing it to the edge of ecological collapse. On Hawaiʻi island, live-fire training at Pōhakuloa has left sacred lands riddled with unexploded ordnance and toxic waste.

The military occupies nearly a quarter of Oahu’s land, yet it refuses to take full responsibility for the damage it has caused. We are told time and time again that military presence makes Hawaiʻi safer but that belies these invisible daily harms.

American corporations, too, have exploited Hawaiʻi for their own gain. Multinational agribusiness giants like Monsanto and Syngenta turned our islands into testing grounds for genetically engineered corn and soy, modified to withstand pesticide use, exposing workers and communities to toxic pesticides. Lawsuits, led by these companies, stripped our counties of the power to regulate these businesses, leaving our keiki at risk.

The tourism industry, controlled largely by mainland companies, extracts wealth from our islands while offering jobs to locals that do not pay a living wage. Meanwhile, real estate speculators drive up housing costs, leaving Kānaka Maoli with the highest rates of homelessness in their own homeland.

All of this is facilitated by a political system that has been corrupted by money and influence coming from the continent and abroad. Corporate lobbyists shape legislation, ensuring that environmental protections remain weak and that public lands can be privatized for development.

The state government, dependent on military spending and tourism dollars, refuses to challenge the forces that keep Hawaiʻi trapped in a cycle of extraction and dependency.

Sovereignty offers a way out. A self-governing Hawaiʻi, built on the values of aloha ʻāina, ʻāina aloha, kuleana and mālama could prioritize the well-being of its people and environment over military interests and corporate profits.

It could mean the demilitarization of our lands, allowing for the restoration of sacred sites and ecosystems. It could mean economic policies that invest in local food systems, renewable energy, and community-owned businesses rather than outside developers.

It could mean a government that is truly accountable to its people, rather than to Washington, D.C., or Wall Street.

The struggle for sovereignty is not just about the past — it is about building a future where Hawaiʻi is not simply a pawn in the games of empires and corporations. It is about reclaiming our right to self-determination and creating a society that honors our land, our water and our people.

The question is not whether Hawaiian sovereignty is possible, but whether we are ready to start planning for it. To do so requires not just the radical act of contemplation, but leaning into and standing in solidarity with the many Kānaka Maoli-led efforts that don’t just preserve our islands, but offer the seeds of another future.

A self-governing Hawaiʻi, built on the values of aloha ʻāina, ʻāina aloha, kuleana and mālama could prioritize the well-being of its people and environment over military interests and corporate profits.

The discipline of alternative futures in political science challenges us to break free from the self-fulfilling prophecies that dominate mainstream thinking and reinforce the status quo. Too often, we are told that Hawaiʻi cannot survive without the U.S. military, that our economy would collapse without mass tourism, and that independence is impractical.

But alternative futures asks us to disrupt these assumptions and imagine what could emerge if there were radical shifts in power, economy, and governance.

There was a time I would have said that a convicted felon as president was impossible. If you told me Elon Musk would be telecasting commentary from the Oval Office with his son named X in tow, I would have laughed.

Yet, history is littered with events once deemed impossible. In fact, America itself is an experiment in radical change, accomplishing the impossible break from an imperial overlord. Why must our collective future be embedded in an America-centric frame?

What if Hawaiʻi no longer depended on an extractive economy? What if we built a food-sovereign, energy-independent, and self-determined society?

Fortune favors the bold. By envisioning these possibilities, we open the door to transformative change.

Sovereignty is not about returning to the past — it is about forging a new, liberated future. The sooner we start planning for that future, the more possible it becomes.