Hawai’i and the quest for a new history

tions for beachfront property and second, or third, holiday-homes owned by the ultrarich, when too many Hawaiians live under tarps in the bushes, or must leave Hawai’i altogether, having been priced out of their own land.

IT’S ALL SURFING

CHRISTIAN BEAMISH

January 16, 1893: the Hawaiian monarchy is overthrown by a provisional government organized by American businessmen and backed by a contingent of United States Marines. Population-decimating diseases and evangelism had already altered Hawaiians’ traditional cultural structures.

This is not to say, however, that the Hawaiians were done for, that their language and world view, their music, cuisine and practices were stamped out. Indeed, not. “Hawaiian-ness” never went away, even as it hybridized, as all cultures have, throughout the 20th and 21st centuries. But the effect of the coup d’état of 1893 (not so far back in history, after all) still reverberates in Hawai’i – the stamp of those Yankee imperialists manifested in theme restaurants and luxury shops, dive bars and bovine tourists strolling the boulevards of Waikiki.

And heading out to the North Shore, as I recently did on a quick solo surf trip, another layer of Mainland influence becomes apparent: an Instagram-ready playground of food trucks and palm-lined backdrops, perfect for selfies, along with a seven-milelong traffic jam. I recognize that I am not somehow “above” the current state of affairs in Hawai’i. I laid down my credit card just like everyone else, paid for my share of jet fuel and contributed to the traffic by driving myself out there in my buddy’s car that he rented to me. Nevertheless, I envision an alternate history for the Islands, and for indigenous lands everywhere. A history that we can begin writing now. I cannot account for the violence that underpins the doctrine of Manifest Destiny, nor the colonial enterprises of Great Britain, both of which brought my people here to California and earlier, to Ngati Ruanui territory in

The author recently took a solo surf trip to Hawai’i.

Taranaki, Aotearoa, New Zealand. But I recognize that the histories of all the people alive today are intertwined, and I can advocate for this new, alternate history for the immediate, as well as the distant future that I envision.

This new history does not include time-share condos, cruise ships or vacation package deals. This new history, being written today, is critical of justifica-

Some will no doubt resist my characterization of “foreigners” (as Hawaiians might well consider haoles born on the mainland) buying up limited real estate. “It’s America,” the argument would go, “land of the free.” But just because a person can do something, doesn’t mean he or she should

What would I like to see in this “new history?” I’d like to see Hawai’i be more for Hawaiians and less dependent on the Mainland for goods and food; I’d like to see fewer people visiting (even if that means I cannot go); I’d like to see the people who live there learn the Hawaiian language to a level of basic conversation; I’d like to see a revival of the traditional Hawaiian agriculture and aquaculture systems built on each watershed; I’d like to see fewer cars, and more opportunities to get around by bicycle.

I suppose it’s a utopia I’m describing. And what about the chemicals required for the surfboards I so love? What about the livelihoods of the families, “native” or not, who live there and educate their children for life in the contemporary world? Am I calling for a Khmer Rougestyle agrarian revolution, complete with education camps and killing fields for those wicked haole capitalists dragged screaming from their beachfront homes?

Surfers are uniquely poised to blend cultures, not via bloodshed but through meaningful engagement. While contemporary surfing exists in a direct line of appropriation and hucksterism reaching back nearly to the overthrow of the monarchy, it also involves a unique mindset. At its core, surfing represents a mindset of repurposing: wartime aerospace materials become surfboards, the dangerous “wasteland” of the surf zone becomes a place of play and rejuvenation.

Where the Outrigger Canoe Club was a whites-only establishment in the time of Duke Kahanamoku, Duke and his buddies (by far the better and more-knowledgeable surfers) formed Hui Nalu comprised of native Hawaiians and haoles. Where the boosters of Waikiki tourism-built hotels and brought-in mainlanders by, literally, the boatload, surfers like John Kelly, Fran Heath, Wally Froiseth and a much younger George Downing, refined the redwood plank into the “Hotcurl” design, putting surfing on its trajectory of radness.

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14 years ago…

Then two-year-old Reef, a local Labrador, was captured in CVN 14 years ago. Now 16, Reef is still popping around Carpinteria, this time with his fellow friend Shore. His owner said he still loves the beach.

And these boards were for the cognoscenti – those in the know, not the tourist masses. Yet somehow – I suppose by the all too human tendency to do a lot when a little will suffice – surfing has long sought a greater circle of participation and is susceptible to the most-rapacious aspects of free-market economics, right down to industrialized levels of production, and, yes, beachfront real estate acquisition. It could be so much cooler, I’m saying. That goes for life on the planet, generally. Yes, strife and a burning desire to succeed are integral to the human condition, but a willingness to bend and give a little, pays surprising dividends.

Christian Beamish took leave of his position at Coastal View News in October 2020, to pursue his surfboard business, “Surfboards California,” full time. He continues his monthly column, and shapes at the surfboard factory showroom at 500 Maple Ave., in Carpinteria. The former Associate Editor of The Surfer’s Journal, Beamish is also the author of “Voyage of the Cormorant,” (Patagonia Books, 2012) about his single-handed expedition down the coast of Baja California by sail and oar in his self-built Shetland Isle beach boat. He now lives with his wife and two children in Ventura.