Ua hoʻokahuli hewa ‘ia ke Aupuni Hawaiʻi, ‘aʻole naʻe i pau ke ea. Eia lā, nui ka ‘āina e paʻa nei i loko o ka lima ‘āpiki o ka Pūʻali Koa ‘Amelika. Lū lehulehu ‘ia nā ‘anoʻano a lākou, a laulaha kona hua—ka luku, ka hō‘ino, a me ka hoʻohaumia ‘ana i ka ‘āina. Pāpā hoʻi ‘ia ka hele ‘ana o kānaka, ‘aʻole naʻe ia ka luahi hoʻokahi, ‘o ka ‘āina nō.
E pau ke au o ka noho hewa ‘ia ‘ana o Hawaiʻi a me kona ‘āina. E hoʻi ke aloha i ke kulāiwi, i ka ‘āina nō. E hoʻi ka mana i ke kanaka, nā kānaka aloha iā Hawaiʻi.
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The next fight for our ‘āina is already upon us.
Nearly 35,000 acres of ʻāina. Sixty-five-year leases. For a one-time payment of $1 each.
The public trust lands, leased by the United States Military were Crown and Government lands of the Hawaiian Kingdom. These lands were prized and protected, held for the monarchy, the government, and its people. Following the illegal overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom government in 1893, approximately 1.4 million acres passed into U.S. control, with much of this ʻāina later transferred to the State of Hawaiʻi in 1959 to be held in public trust for the betterment of Native Hawaiians. In 1964, nearly 35,000 acres at Pōhakuloa, Mākua, Kahuku, Kawailoa–Poamoho, and more, were leased to the U.S. Army.
After six decades of military occupation, the leases are set to expire by 2030.
Across Hawaiʻi, the consequences of militarization have been devastating. Ancestral lands and cultural sites have been placed beyond the reach of communities. Live-fire training has left unexploded ordnance in our ʻāina. Military activity has damaged ecosystems, contaminated soil and water, and accelerated an already devastating housing crisis.
Kahoʻolawe stands as a sobering example. Decades of military bombing scarred the island, fractured its freshwater aquifer, allowing saltwater intrusion and compromising its freshwater resources. Due to decades of commitment and sacrifice by the Protect Kahoʻolawe ‘Ohana (PKO) and trailblazing aloha ‘āina, Kahoʻolawe was returned to the State in 1994. Yet the damage remained. The Navy's cleanup project ended in 2004, leaving approximately a quarter of the island still not cleared of unexploded ordnance.
These are not distant consequences or unfortunate remnants of the past. They are lasting harms borne by our ʻāina and communities, affecting our health, access to place, and autonomy over lands held in public trust for the betterment of the Hawaiian people.
Deoccu-Pae ʻĀina calls for the return of land. Not simply the expiration of a lease or the transfer of a title, but accountability for the damage done, meaningful remediation, restored access, and the return of authority over the future of these lands.
E hoʻi ka ʻāina. E ola ke ea.