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Hawaiʻi Scene on Social

[{"text":"Everybody happy dance!","type":"text"}]

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<title>Hawai‘i Scene on Social: "A good day in Hawai‘i"</title>

Kveekz on Instagram is today's social media find, celebrating some pleasant surprises.

Hawai‘i Scene on Social: "A good day in Hawai‘i"

Arrasmith Portrait

Perry Arrasmith

Government & Politics

Columnists

The most bizarre section in Hawai‘i’s 

 is the one that relates to the state’s regulation of population growth. It is a testament to a bygone era informed by misguided local anxieties. 

Runaway population growth across the Hawaiian Islands once occupied the Hawai'i zeitgeist. While much of this mindset persists in the halls of society, it contrasts with Hawai‘i’s contemporary demographic woes. 

Between April 1960 and April 1970, Hawai‘i added 115,510 residents to its population, totalling 748,182 residents across the islands. It was a meteoric rise that stressed the Hawai‘i’s poor infrastructure, corrupt land management practices, and limited housing across the islands. 

Hawai‘i was a young, growing society. The median age of a resident was 25. Much of the State’s dynamism and vigour, in turn, were informed by a mix of talent both local and non-local.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"Perhaps it was too much of a good thing. "}]

During this time, national commentators were fretting about the global population’s growth. Paul and Anne Ehrlich had co-authored 

in 1968. Internationally, the Club of Rome furnished the

report, which only further argued against overconsumption. Political views wrapped in scientific dogma started-off a new movement whose cultural salience was confirmed by the 1973 film 

While societies were wasteful and inefficient, these reports didn’t necessarily call for more efficiency. Instead, they called for fewer people. 

While the times have changed, our Constitution’s outdated language shows how we are still stuck in the ’70s. Through national debates over population control, Hawai‘i became a tragic guinea pig that used environmentalism to justify population control, opening the floodgates for arguments against urban development, immigration, and economic growth. 

These conversations continue to plague Hawai‘i’s zeitgeist, most notably when it comes to unnecessary conflict between economic growth and environmental stewardship.

In 1970, the Hawai‘i State Legislature passed Senate Resolution 305, establishing the State’s Temporary Commission on Population Stabilization. A 1972 report issued by the Commission suggested an inverse relationship between environmental stewardship and population growth. 

“It remains to be seen whether or not we will achieve a balance with the limits of the Hawaiian environment in this present period of growth in Hawaiian history,” the 

 warned, “but it should be recognized that with respect to maintaining the quality of the environment, population and prosperity are ‘trade-offs.’ If we expect to maintain a fixed level of pollution and impact on the environment by people in Hawaii, then any increase in one will require a corresponding decrease in the other.”

In the following year, the State Senate once again adopted a resolution calling for the establishment of an optimum state population. “The question of population equilibria among the Islands is a difficult one to answer quantitatively,” a 

 from the Department of Planning and Economic Development warned.

“One must consider the impact on the environment, what ‘quality of life’ should be used as a measure, means of developing a viable economy within a stable population, and the size of population on each Island which will bring about a desirable balance with the social and natural environment of Hawai‘i.”

Nationally, the Commission on Population and the American Future had been established by federal law in March 1970. A final 

 issued by the Commission was submitted to the U.S. Congress in March 1972, with proposals ranging from increased abortion access to voluntary sterilization to stricter immigration controls. Out of political embarrassment for its recommendations, the Nixon Administration largely distanced itself from the Commission.

However, the rhetoric which argued for limits on immigration had devastating consequences. In the present-day, arguments blaming immigrants for environmental degradation have had devastating 

Back in Hawai‘i, the reports stacked on one another. In 1972, Earl R. Babbie of the civic organization 

, a major argument for a cap on Hawai‘i’s population at one million (Hawai‘i’s population reached this threshold in the mid-’80s). 

These reports built a case for a more permanent state agency tasked with controlling the state’s population growth. As a result, the Commission on Population Stabilization and the Hawaiian Future was 

A primary architect of the measure, Nadao Yoshinga, was not solely worried about the influx of outsiders. Natural population growth among existing residents was another worry. Yoshinaga, an influential member of the State Senate, would 

 in the name of limited Hawai‘i’s population growth over the coming years. Limiting population by whatever means necessary (in the confines of the law) was the objective.

At around this time, Robert C. Schmitt, the State Statistician of Hawai‘i, 

 of the emerging field of population policy. Proponents of population control, at least in the early Statehood era, had started to organize in the late ’60s through such organizations as the University of Hawai‘i-sponsored Zero Population Growth-Honoulu, Citizens for Hawai‘i, Life of the Land, the Sierra Club, and Save our Surf. 

These groups advocated for policies to halt population migration, economic development, and other factors like densified communities in the name of environmentalism. Perhaps tragically, this misguided approach to Hawai‘i’s prevailing problems created a manichean world of values in conflict with one another.

Arguments for population control in the name of environmental stewardship had a real impact on policy in the late ’70s. Most notably, this came to a head in 1977.

During his annual State of the State address, Governor George Ariyoshi directly addressed population control, arguing for immigration controls and density regulation in the name of the ‘aloha spirit.’

“The problem of excessive population seems to be central to nearly every problem in the State.” he started. “Too many people means too few jobs and too much competition for them. Too many people means too little land for agriculture, parks, and scenic vistas. Too many people means too much crime and too much erosion of possibly our single most important commodity: the Aloha Spirit. Too many people means too much pressure on all our governmental and private institutions.” 

Ariyoshi wanted fewer people in Hawai‘i, plain and simple. To reinforce his views, the State Legislature even sponsored a 

 on population and the Hawaiian future in March 1977. 

One piece of legislation would have discriminated against recent arrivals to Hawai‘i through residency requirements for state jobs. A Federal Judge based in Honolulu, the part-Hawaiian Sam P. King, condemned the State of Hawai‘i’s flirtation with a flagrantly “anti-migratory” statute.

These attempts provide a marked contrast with the present day. In January 2025, the Department of Human Services 

 that the State suffers from a vacancy rate of 24% of all civil services positions (equivalent to more than 4,000 jobs). 

Nevertheless, Hawai‘i still inserted a section into its Constitution at the 1978 Constitutional Convention that called for population planning. To date, it is the only Constitution in the United States with such explicit language.

Instead of promoting smarter urban planning methods that conserved space while reducing sprawl or incentivizing farmers to bring more fallow agricultural land into cultivation, it was more convenient to blame the outside migrants for Hawai‘i’s development problems.

Instead of fostering solutions which invite greater societal innovation, it is more convenient to fall for an ideology wrapped in the veneer of science. 

Since 1970, Hawai‘i’s population fortunes have reversed.

Global population growth is not exponential, nor could it sustain the growth rates witnessed after the Second World War. In fact, our planet’s 

 will likely begin declining before 2100. 

The paranoia of the ’70s became irrelevant over the following decade. By 1983, the Commission on Population and the Hawaiian Future had been abolished.

For a majority of Hawai‘i’s residents in 2025, the ’70s are a foreign, unknown domain. Since Hawai‘i’s 

 was 41 as of 2024, it’s safe to conclude more than half of Hawai‘i’s population was born after 1980.

Today, Hawai‘i is missing people. It is one of the fastest aging states in the United States. The population is contracting, with more than half of all Native Hawaiians on the planet living outside of the archipelago.

Culturally, it is still easy to blame the outsider for our own problems. Instead of acknowledging our own complicitly in failing to plan for the future, it is far easier to find that the outsider is only exacerbating the problems we are not addressing. Policies which now arrest growth not only injure potential migrants. They also hurt residents.

The debates over population control in the ’70s were about a fear of change and a society’s failure to properly navigate the pressures wrought by new forces.

Contemporary conflicts over growth still magnify this attitude. Not unironically, stewarding Hawai‘i’s environment means Hawai‘i’s environment needs to also steward Hawai‘i’s people.

“It should be remembered,” Governor John Burns said in 

, “that the key ingredient in any environment is man himself: he is part and parcel of and the key to the value of our total system of symbiotic relationships on this earth. Being a part of the environment demands that we consider human economics together with biological ecology.” 

“If man is hungry, ill-housed, undereducated or poorly treated in his society,” he wondered, “what service is it to him that his environment remains in its pristine, natural state?”

A society without one cannot have the other. We need to think about growth, not stabilization. We need to think about people.

In our own time, we need a Constitution whose thinking is not tethered to the past. While the language in outdated documents like our Constitution locks our zeitgeist in another time, we need to get over our history. We need a better zeitgeist.

For the latest news of Hawai‘i, sign up 

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<title>Hawai‘i's bizarre legacy of population control (and why it's still here)</title>

In the 1970s, Hawai‘i gave in to fears of overpopulation, so much so that population control was put into the State Constitution.

Hawai‘i's bizarre legacy of population control (and why it's still here)

Lopaka and Tanya Kapanui

Lopaka Kapanui and Tanya Kapanui

Hawaii History

The Mānoa Falls Trail is one of Oʻahu’s most beloved hikes, leading through lush rainforest to a 150-foot waterfall at the back of Mānoa Valley. Managed by the state’s Nā Ala Hele trail system since 1988, the path is maintained as part of the Honolulu Mauka Trail System, which links multiple routes across the ridges and valleys above Honolulu. In recent years, the trail underwent significant improvements to better accommodate the many visitors who explore the valley each day.

While a popular attraction, the trail has also seen its share of challenges. The Honolulu Fire Department regularly responds to rescues for lost or injured hikers, with some requiring helicopter evacuations. In rare but serious cases, hikers have suffered fatal accidents near the waterfall itself. Temporary closures are also not uncommon, especially after heavy rain or storm damage, when fallen trees and slippery terrain make conditions dangerous.

By day, the Mānoa Falls Trail feels like a living postcard. Its lush forest and idyllic scenery draw countless visitors to its famous water cascade. But as with many places in Hawaiʻi, the beauty of the landscape holds a deeper layer of stories passed down through generations. Long after the hikers have gone home and the valley quiets under the canopy of trees, Mānoa takes on an entirely different presence that locals whisper about with caution, and visitors sometimes stumble upon when they least expect it. It is in these hushed moments, after dark, that the trail reveals its other side.

One weekend night in the early 1970s, Vance went on a double date with a friend. His girlfriend was beside him in the front seat, while the second couple sat in the back. On a whim, the group decided to drive up toward Mānoa Falls. They reached the chain that blocked cars from going farther and parked beneath the trees. It was late, and the valley was wrapped in silence and heavy darkness. The two couples sat for a while talking inside the car. That was when Vance noticed something strange: two eyes, suspended in the air in front of them.

At first, he didn’t understand what he was looking at. But the longer he stared, the more dread crept in.

[{"type":"text","text":"Grabbing his date’s arm, he blurted out, “Look! Eyes!”"}]

She followed his gaze and screamed, as did his friend’s date when she looked up. In the back seat, Vance’s friend kept his head down, refusing to see for himself.

“No! No! I’m not looking!” he shouted when Vance demanded to know if he could see it too.

The hair rose on Vance’s neck, chicken skin running down his arms. In a rush of panic, he started the engine, threw the car in reverse, and sped down the road, not slowing until they were safely back in the residential streets of the valley.

Years later, Vance shared the story with a younger co-worker who had graduated from Roosevelt High School. The co-worker grew animated and hurried off to fetch an old yearbook. Flipping through the pages, he pointed out a photograph of students standing at the same chain that blocked the Mānoa Falls trail. In the picture, clear as day, were a pair of eyes. This time, they were not high up in the trees, but close to the ground. It wasn’t a trick of light or imagination. That picture, he said, is still in that old Roosevelt High School yearbook. Vance was shaken all over again.

His unease deepened when, on a tour years later, he listened to storyteller Glen Grant describe disembodied eyes seen across the island with warnings not to follow, for they beckoned people to the other side. Standing there listening to Glen’s stories, Vance’s wife turned to him, eyes wide, and whispered, “That’s exactly what you’ve been telling me all these years.”

Those strange encounters in the 1970s weren’t the last time someone would see something unusual there. Just a few years ago, while the trail was officially closed for maintenance, four friends decided to visit at night, hoping to capture evidence of something paranormal on video. They had already made stops at Morgan’s Corner and Tantalus Drive when one of them suggested the Mānoa Falls Trail.

[{"type":"text","text":"It was a moonless night, so he joked, “Guarantee get night marchers!”"}]

The group’s excitement overrode any hesitation that an individual might have had. Around midnight, they parked in the middle of the dark road, headlights shining on the closed gate. One man stayed behind in the car to take a call from his girlfriend, while the other three stepped out with their phones set to record. A cool breeze moved through the valley, carrying the damp scent of mud and rotting vegetation. Mosquitoes buzzed in their ears. One man held an EMF meter, but its lights stayed still and dark.

[{"type":"text","text":"Then came the first sign that something wasn’t right."}]

“Aw man, my phone died!” one of them shouted, and seconds later another man’s phone went black.

Confused, they huddled by the car, trying to make sense of the sudden power loss, while the fourth man inside continued his call without interruption. Out of the corner of his eye, one of the men caught movement by the trail. His blood went cold; not from thoughts of ghosts but of feral pigs. He grabbed a flashlight from the car, but the beam was weak, and the shadows at the gate were impenetrable. Uneasy, he climbed back inside the car and called to his friends, who had moved closer to the gate.

Several long minutes passed before the pair suddenly ran back and jumped into the vehicle. The driver started the engine and tore down the rough road, potholes rattling the tires, not slowing until they reached the residential neighborhood.

After they’d finally calmed down, the two men explained what happened. As they approached the gate, they saw a pair of white lights floating about four feet off the ground. They looked like two eyes. It was weird and confusing, and neither of them could figure out what they were looking at—two lights, about the same distance apart as a pair of eyes on someone’s face. But there was no face, no head, no body. The lights slowly seemed to drift closer toward them, and when they got about a foot in front of the gate, they blinked. That’s when the men took off running. I asked if they got it on video, but they did not.

“I wasn’t aiming the camera right at the lights, so all I got was bushes and then the blurry road as we were running back to the car. But seriously, we saw what we saw.”

I then asked if they would ever return to try to get whatever they saw on video, and he laughed and said, “Maybe. Probably not for a long time, but maybe.”

Gate to Manoa Falls Trail 2

<title>Disembodied eyes at Mānoa Falls Trail</title>

If you look out into the dark of night at this storied trail, something just might look back at you.

Disembodied eyes at Mānoa Falls Trail

Katie Helland Headshot

Katie Helland

Arts & Entertainment

The Hawaiʻi International Film Festival, presented by Halekulani Hotel, returns for its 45th year with events on Oʻahu, Maui, Lānaʻi, Kauaʻi, Hawaiʻi Island and Molokaʻi. 

This year, the festival's theme is "convergence."

The festival starts with events Oct. 15 to 26 in Honolulu and Oct. 28 to 30 in West Oʻahu. There will be screenings on Maui Oct. 19-20 and Nov. 8 to 9; Lānaʻi Oct. 21-23; Kauaʻi Nov. 1 to 3; Hawaʻi Island Nov. 7 to 9 and 13 to 16; and Molokaʻi Nov. 14-16.

“Held each year at the close of the calendar, HIFF serves as both a cinematic ‘yearbook,’ showcasing the standout titles from Sundance, Cannes, Toronto and Busan, and a festival of record for bold new voices from across the Asia-Pacific,” said Anderson Le, HIFF’s artistic director, in a written statement. “In the mix are also world and U.S. premieres from major films from the Asia-Pacific Rim that will screen at HIFF before their domestic releases.”

The festival will include 72 feature films and 143 short films. There will be 115 Hawaiʻi premieres and 36 world premieres. Passes start at $200 for weekend access or $500 for access to all screenings. Attendees can also purchase admission to individual films. 

The festival opens with the Hawaiʻi premiere of “Rental Family.” The center piece film is “No Other Choice,” by director Park Chan-wook.

The event also includes the inaugural HIFILM Industry Conference, which runs Oct. 24- 26 in Honolulu, and features three days of panels, workshops and networking events focused on the state's film, television and creator industries. 

"Our 2025 lineup celebrates bold storytelling from around the world, while the industry conference strengthens Hawai‘i’s place in the global film and media ecosystem,” said Beckie Stocchetti, the executive director of HIFF, in a written statement. “With this year’s theme of convergence, HIFF brings together filmmakers, thought leaders, and industry innovators from Hawai‘i, the Asia-Pacific, and beyond — continuing to serve as both a bridge between cultures and a launchpad for creative collaboration. HIFF has for over a decade stood as the nexus for creativity in the Asian-Pacific Rim and at HIFF45 we are proud to present a festival and conference that amplify HIFF’s mission to connect audiences, artists and ideas across the Pacific.” 

HIFF will present seven awards for excellence in filmmaking. Two categories are Academy Awards-qualifying for Best short film. 

A number of awards for vision and career achievement will be presented, including the HIFF45 Halekulani Vision in Film Award to Park Chan-wook, the HIFF45 Halekulani Golden Maile for Career Achievement Award to Melanie Lynskey, the HIFF45 Halekulani Vanguard Award to Yuriyan Retriever, the HIFF45 Halekulani Maverick Award to Kenji Tanigaki, and the HIFF45 Leanne K. Ferrer Trailblazer Award to 

"Rental Family"

<title>Tickets on sale for Hawaiʻi International Film Festival</title>

The festival includes events on Oʻahu, Hawaiʻi Island, Maui, Kauaʻi, Lānaʻi and Molokaʻi. This is the only Academy Awards-qualifying film festival in the state. Events start Oct. 15. Tickets are now on sale for individual movies or passes to all movie screenings.

Tickets on sale for Hawaiʻi International Film Festival

 given by a near-forgotten and long-dead governor in 1969, you’ll arguably gain a foundational understanding of contemporary Hawai‘i.

In spite of its importance to modern Hawaiʻi’s identity, most people have never heard of this speech. It asks a timeless question of Hawai‘i’s people: Is Hawai‘i actually a dynamic, innovative society wrapped in a unique identity, or is it nothing more than a loose summary of imported ideas, systems and peoples?

On May 24, the University of Hawai‘i John A. Burns School of Medicine quietly 

As speakers filed into position in Kaka‘ako, more than one speaker made reference to a phrase coined by Burns in 1969. 

Burns, the second-elected governor in the state of Hawai‘i’s history, has been dead for more than 50 years. He is often regarded as one of the founders of the state of Hawai‘i, securing the passage of the Admissions Act that brought statehood in 1959.

Three years later, his election as governor in 1962 consolidated the Democratic Party’s ascension as Hawai‘i’s main party. He inaugurated the era of the “New Hawai‘i” marked by the ascendance of tourism, explosive population growth, runaway economic expansion, massive building projects, and hitherto unprecedented opportunity for hundreds of thousands of Hawai‘i-born residents. 

It was also marked by increased frustration among many Native Hawaiians, whose protests against his administration’s failure to properly administer the Department of Hawaiian Homelands – among many other issues – that laid the foundation for a Hawaiian Civil Rights Movement that culminated only years after his death.

Burns played a critical role in the establishment of the 

 and the University of Hawai‘i Medical School, which bears his name today. He died on April 5, 1975.

It was the ‘subtle inferiority of spirit’ speech that came to define the mission of the Democratic Party – and modern Hawai‘i.

Like many of those bridges, buildings and landmarks built under his administration across the Hawaiian Islands, the speech haunts Hawai‘i. 

If you try to divine Hawai‘i’s trajectory, the words will play off your mind as you see variants of Hawai‘i on Beretania Street in Honolulu, Rice Street in Lihu‘e, High Street in Wailuku, or Kīlauea Avenue in Hilo. Every county was invariably shaped by the early years of Burns’ administration.

Beyond the physical wealth and the tangible infrastructure, are we just a loose collection of islands facing the same problems? What binds these islands together? 

As you walk around Hawai‘i, you’ll see that we’ve never figured out our identity.

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"To embrace ourselves to gain confidence"}]

Burns worried about Hawai‘i’s identity. The lack of confidence in this identity was where Burns saw Hawai‘i’s greatest weakness.

When he addressed the Hawai‘i State Legislature in February 1969, Burns made a deliberate decision to acknowledge Hawaiʻi’s many problems without delving too greatly into his administration’s plans to deal with them. 

“The problems of housing and labor shortages, of rising prices, of environmental decay, or public services lagging behind public demand, of the education of our children, of crime, of land and its use – all these continue to warrant our fullest attention today,” observed Burns. “They are neither new nor insoluble. They simply require good men and women – great men and women – who will accept the challenge they offer.” 

The issues themselves were tertiary to a broader crisis in Hawaiʻi’s culture. Great men and women needed a vision for the future. They need a common purpose to inform their direction. Even with material wealth, a society without a purpose could lack direction. This could beget anxiety and apathy, resulting in a society’s decay.

“The undercurrent of uncertainty simmering beneath our affluent surface has been articulated in expressions of concern that Hawaiʻi stands in danger of losing its unique character.” So the problems required good people, arguably people who understood Hawai‘i’s identity. 

Without a sense of this identity, people could never understand a society’s mission. History can shine a light on a society’s identity, becoming a source of confidence. 

The speech’s message was esoteric. Burns seemed to believe that Hawai‘i was becoming a purposeless place, in spite of all its wealth and growth. There was still a deep-seated insecurity beneath the veneer of progress. Hawai‘i seemed to still fear its own uniqueness. 

People were afraid to embrace themselves, take risks, and face challenges. In terms of ambition, Burns thought people in Hawai‘i could be caught thinking too small. He believed they could still afford to think bigger and bolder. 

 to insert a particular paragraph was rhetorically decisive; his edits and additions to the remarks were still coming one hour before the speech was formally scheduled for delivery.

Nevertheless, he made a key addition. He decided to critique the very place he governed.

“To be perfectly candid,” he told a stunned audience, ”I sense among some elements of our community – particularly those who are descended from our immigrant plantation workers – a subtle ‘inferiority of spirit,’ which is totally unwarranted and which becomes for them a social and psychological handicap in life.”

These handicaps prevented people from living up to their potential. They prevented Hawai‘i from constructively treating many of its chronic challenges.

Among those watching this speech in shock was a young Honolulu Star-Bulletin reporter named Tom Coffman. “When he gave his controversial speech calling on people to forego a ‘subtle inferiority of spirit,’ I led my story with that phrase in my front-page banner,” Coffman remarked in May 2025. 

“That was blunt talk,” Coffman reckoned in 

, “and it either came home to you or it didn’t.” 

[{"type":"text","marks":[{"type":"textStyle"}],"text":"The unanswered question"}]

Burns channelled Abraham Lincoln’s then-controversial 

 on the trajectory of the United States before the American Civil War. “If we could first know where we are, and whither we are tending,” Lincoln argued, “we could then better judge what to do, and how to do it.”

If the people of Hawai‘i don’t know where they are or where they are going, then they will never be able to know what to do or how to do it. The subtle inferiority of spirit will never disappear. It will always arrest progress through paralysis, dividing people and inviting anxiety. 

In real time, people in Hawai‘i are wrestling with the warnings of Burns. One recent, notable example is the 

 Initiative. Convened through the Hawai‘i Executive Collaborative, the RHS initiative aims to facilitate conversations centered around a common vision for Hawai‘i’s soul. As part of this framework, “everyone on our Islands regardless of background or ethnicity – lives with island consciousness that we must live in a reciprocal relationship with all living things: the ‘āina, the ocean, the sky, the kānaka

who originated from the islands, and the immigrant and people who call Hawai‘i home.”

If we want people to see Hawai‘i as a place capable of uniqueness, Burns’ speech should be taught in every school in Hawai‘i as part of any course on Hawai‘i’s history.

His message takes on a heightened importance in a more American Hawai‘i. Highways constructed in the ’60s have enabled the construction of American-style suburbs, graced with American fast-food joints and strip malls. Pidgin has evaporated in communities. Children grow up watching American television, absorbing American social media and rooting for professional sports teams based in cities like San Francisco, New York, or Las Vegas. Perhaps we are gradually acculturated to see Hawai‘i as but a novel part of the broader country.

, nearly half of all residents were not born in Hawai‘i. Some, like me, were born in the continental U.S. Even if we are raised in public schools filled with all aspects of Hawai‘i’s nuance, we may not necessarily see Hawai‘i as a unique place. We can overcome this inferiority by striving to know ourselves. Once we know ourselves, then maybe we can talk about the future with an iron self-confidence grounded in self-awareness. 

Until we know ourselves, however, we’ll never know.

John A Burns

<title>The most important speech in Hawaiʻi’s history</title>

It was the "subtle inferiority of spirit" speech by then-Gov. John A. Burns that came to define the mission of the Democratic Party — and modern Hawai‘i.

Hawai‘i Scene on Social: "A good day in Hawai‘i"

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