A Living, Breathing History

We have been like sharks lately, in constant movement. We are consumed by showing up, standing up, filling in, and speaking out.

A couple weeks ago, Jonah expressed that as much as he wants his new program to succeed, as important as his actual paying job is, he wants to ACT. He wants to find the next rally, he wants to go to the mauna, he wants to bring people together and engage in discourse. All of us echoed these same sentiments. All of said weʻd been less engaged in other activities so that we could focus on this one.

I woke up this morning with Kumu Hinaʻs words on my mind. "No can, but can. Hard, but not hard. Tired, but not tired." She, too, is pulled between at least these two inclinations: to stand for the mauna and her people and to go to work. For anyone who has a family, a job (or two or three), and other daily responsibilities, it can be super difficult to carve out time and energy for these other activities. For those of us in education, I know many of you, including my own family (my joke is that education is the family business), are preparing for the upcoming school year. Weʻll have meetings to organize and attend, lesson plans to put together, classrooms to arrange, and materials to prep. And because we do these things with utmost care because we accept the great responsibility of raising intelligent, free-thinking, compassionate children, we feel conflicted: I should be doing school work, but I really want to write this blog/attend this rally/listen to this speaker/watch this YouTube video/read this article/go to the mauna.

Because of my own fervor, Iʻve lost out on sleep. Tired, but not tired. Iʻve spent time away from my family. Hard, but not hard. Iʻve felt unequal to the task of telling my own stories, and felt close to useless in this movement. No can, but can. Even now, three hours after I woke up, Iʻm hungry and thirsty, and yet taking the time to make breakfast and coffee seems like too much time away from this. I woke up with "No can, but can. Hard, but not hard. Tired, but not tired," running through my head and I flew to my desk. I had to jot down my thoughts. I donʻt speak Hawaiian, I donʻt work the land, and I donʻt fish. But I can tell stories, and telling stories is how I serve.

What has been a particular source of irritation for me is this false dichotomy being disseminated over social media and has not been contradicted (although I have found allies in some unusual places) by traditional news media: if youʻre against TMT, youʻre anti-science. It is a slogan that resounds over the inter webs, being spouted by every lay person who thinks itʻs clever. Youʻve seen this play out in a number of ways, most recently in todayʻs paper in which the pro-TMT organizers claim that their rally was to show that Hawaii "appreciates astronomy" and that "Hawaiian culture and science can coexist" on the mountain. If thatʻs all they were doing, weʻd all be standing on the same side of the road. What in my protest demonstrates that I donʻt appreciate astronomy or that I donʻt believe culture and science can coexist? And, perhaps more importantly in my mind, what about your pro-TMT stance suggests that you appreciate astronomy or value Hawaiian culture?

I know that many people living in Hawaii can look at our past and sympathize. You can see the injustices that took place and feel disgust and sadness-- you can see the loss. You can identify who our champions and allies were by name at various points in our history and feel pride and amazement for what they accomplished. You look at this historic struggle with sympathy and might even wish things had been different, but you think itʻs all in the past and that nothing more can be done. You might even wish you could have been there during that time so you could help change the tide, but you canʻt because itʻs history.

What you might not recognize is that we are living history RIGHT NOW. I know it looks different from the 19th century or the 20th century, and you donʻt think of yourself as a George Helm, say, or Loretta Ritte, but here we are. You might not be able to see the importance of your own actions or of those around you, or you might think your efforts to be so small as to be insignificant. You might not see that the tools that were used against Hawaii (tools that were long used by imperialists throughout time and geography) so many years ago are the same tools being deployed today. They might look a little different-- there was no Instagram back then-- but look, and youʻll find the ideological apparatus in play.

Those who stand to benefit most from the construction and operation of the Thirty Meter Telescope are not scientists. I hope you understand this. People who support the construction of TMT-- the people commenting on Facebook posts-- are not the universities and countries backing the TMT. Those who will benefit from TMT have invested tons of money because they stand to make a ton of money. Do you really think their primary motivation is scientific discovery and exploration? They have a lot at stake and will dedicate large quantities of their resources to see it done. They can influence politicians and control the flow of information. They can hire outside agencies to sow discord and lies. This is not paranoia or a conspiracy theory. They use whatever tools are at their disposal-- including the everyday people who support TMT-- to get what they want. What scientist would want their TMT under these circumstances?

My struggle is not against the telescope, science, or technology. I struggle against Business As Usual practices that utilize racism, propaganda, and the repressive state apparatus. I fight against those who would use those tools of oppression to marginalize my voice and all minority voices whether they be indigenous or female or something else entirely. I struggle against profit at the expense of the environment and the well being of the people.

But you donʻt have to take my word for it. Iʻm always learning, and I encourage you to keep your heart and mind open to new and different ideas. Weigh them, question them, and be willing to change your opinion. This is how I like to approach knowledge-gathering:

1. Come humbly without expectations. Remember that even though we all come with our own knowledge, you donʻt have to always exert your knowledge. You donʻt have to be the loudest voice in the room. In fact, you donʻt even have to be a voice in the room. You can listen. You can be silent. You can observe. Humility is not weakness, it is strength.
2. Ask questions, especially if you donʻt know or understand, and LISTEN to the answer. Chew on it. Mull it over. You donʻt need to react, especially if what youʻre hearing is new information.
3. Consult a variety of sources, including those that support your opposition. Get the fullest picture you can. Look beyond traditional news sources. Talk to people, watch documentaries and YouTube videos, listen to podcasts. Find as many primary sources as you can. When articles refer to a study or poll, find that study or poll and read it for yourself. 
4. Use your brain. Be skeptical, be curious. Question what you read or hear-- does that sound true? Who stands to benefit? Where is the money coming from and where is it going? Where are the women? Draw your own conclusions based on the evidence you find. Come up with your own unique perspective.
5. Remember, even after you gain more confidence in what you know, revisit your own values and opinions. Be open to changing your mind. I hated lima beans when I was a kid because, clearly, theyʻre disgusting. And then Charlie made them in a different way and I realized okay fine, maybe theyʻre way less disgusting than I remembered.
6. Finally, talk stories! When I was writing a paper and got stuck on a point, Iʻd almost always talk to Charlie. Whether we agreed on something or not didnʻt matter because either way it helped me discover and articulate my point, even if I wasnʻt sure what it was before we started talking. At different stages of writing this blog, I spoke with Shelley, and that served as kind of more brainstorming. This little 6-point checklist might not have happened if it hadnʻt been for her.

I hope you see that my goal isnʻt to get you to think like me. My goal is to encourage you to seek knowledge, continually and circumspectly. I am an educator and I advocate for education. I donʻt expect you to agree with me, but I hope that if you do disagree, especially about TMT, that you come to me with an informed argument. Donʻt tell me you think TMT is good because science or jobs. Donʻt tell me to educate myself, which is generally good advice but irrelevant to this particular discussion. Might as well tell me to breathe or blink. Show me your evidence because I might find it so compelling as to alter my way of thinking.

With informed discourse, we can broaden the conversation and perhaps better understand each other and the issues at hand.