Lessons From the Summit

Photo by Hannah Hall // In Our Nature

The summit of Mauna Kea, at 13,803 feet, hovers above land and water. When a foamy sheet of cloud layer separates the summit from the rest of the Big Island of Hawaii, it appears on its own as an isolated haven adorned in ruby glow. It’s not hard to see why this dormant volcano serves as the genesis for Hawaiian culture – it’s where the heavens unite with Earth. With the recent Thirty Meter Telescope protests being staged at the base of Mauna Kea, there seems to be a rebirth of action by a multi-generational group of native Hawaiians to protect the volcano’s ecosystems from further damage.

The Thirty Meter Telescope, developed by the TMT International Observatory LLC, was planned to start construction on July 15, 2019, but protestors chained themselves to the access road cattle guard, beginning a peaceful protest that would continue for months. The TMT protesters, who refer to themselves as kai’i (protectors) of Mauna Kea, mainly consist of native Hawaiians, ranging from elders to University of Hawaii staff and students. Discontinuity on the public opinion about the TMT is evident though – a truck with a bumper sticker exclaiming “Pro-TMT” rushes under the low-hanging vines of a Hilo coastal road, while nearby shop owners share frustrations over the telescope’s inability to contribute to the local economy. These sights tell a narrative of contrasting viewpoints on international influence, colonization and environmental prioritization. This past December I traveled to the source to learn more about the protesters and their reasoning for protecting the Mauna Kea summit.

An altered STOP sign speaks to the protestors disagreement with the government’s treatment of the Mauna Kea summit.

Two shield volcanoes sandwich Saddle Road leading out of Kailua-Kona: Mauna Loa to the right, and Mauna Kea, the tallest on the island, towering to the left. We arrived at the protest camp at the Mauna Kea Access Road at noon during the protocol, a time when elders and protestors conduct traditional Hawaiian hula and song to honor their ‘Mauna,’ or sacred mountain. Makeshift tents, weathered Hawaiian flags mounted within cracks of the lava field, and “Protect Mauna Kea” signs filled the foreground. At over 6,500 feet altitude, this was rugged dedication, but the sound of drum and chants sang with a surprisingly confident tone.

The protocol space stands at the entrance to the Mauna Kea Access Road and serves as the hub for protest activities.

At first, I observed the protocol from the back of the ceremony, but I didn't stay there long as a smiling kai’i named Kat encouraged me with outstretched arms to join in. I kicked off my sandals and she began to teach me the dance movements and their meanings. I awkwardly shuffled my bare feet along the asphalt while the protestors drifted with elegance, their feet on earth working together as if centuries of tradition granted them grace. In the last motion of the routine, I followed Kat in raising my arms toward the mountain. The crowd confidently recited E ala a’e (we will rise), reaffirming their dedication to actively protect the summit’s ecosystem and cultural significance.  

At the conclusion of the protocol, we all sat cross-legged on the cold pavement as a lead TMT protestor, Lanakila Mangauil, gave inspirational words of support to the protestors. Mangauil represents a strong voice for the TMT protest as well as the younger generation of Hawaii’s idengenous people.  Referencing the protocol hula, Mangauil warned the group, “don’t let ritual become routine.” After five continuous months, this was a mental battle for the protestors as much as it was an external protest.

After the protocol, I talked with Kat about her long involvement with opposing the TMT since 2015 and her current participation in the access road protest since July. She admitted she respects the other side but reaffirmed “we are the frontline here, and we’re going to stand, no matter what.” She then added that she, along with the others who, like her, have made the protest camp their makeshift home, are committed to being the camp’s last occupants as their Hawaiian heritage roots them to this movement. 

Hawai`i Island, more commonly known as The Big Island of Hawaii, depends on volcanic events for creation. These natural occurrences of destruction and rebirth build the island and form the genealogies of traditional Hawaiian beliefs. In Hawaiian legend, Pele, the goddess of fire and volcanoes, symbolizes rebirth as molten lava first destroys, but then builds the base for civilization. Lanakila Mangauil spoke to me about the spirit of rebirth alive in the TMT protest movement and his involvement since 2013.

Mangauil described the ecological concerns of the Thirty Meter Telescope, emphasizing that this would be the fourteenth telescope added to the already 13-telescope fleet that can be seen atop the summit from almost anywhere on the island. He expressed frustrations over the reoccurring construction of telescopes, claiming every time the Hawaiian people are promised only one more telescope. “The international and University of Hawaii structures on the volcano keep growing,” he tells me, stating the protestors “are done with empty promises.” Mangauil notes that not a single older telescope has been removed from the volcano summit. 

He also claims that the proposed telescope will rise eighteen stories, three times the building limit for the Big Island, and that the government and the University of Hawaii circumvent the protected conservation land of Mauna Kea. Additionally, one of Mangauil’s biggest frustrations is the lack of consulting with native Hawaiians when conducting archeological and hydrological reports of the summit. He believes there is misrepresentation in tracking the telescopes’ negative impact on the hydrological reserves and burial grounds of chiefs and elders on the summit of the mountain.

“We’re not arguing anything about science,” Mangauil said regarding claims that the protestors are anti-science. “It’s about a massive earth-moving construction project in fragile ecosystems, which is sacred land. They just don’t seem to get that. This could be the sovereign Kingdom of Hawaii trying to build a Hawaiian temple on the mountain, and I’d be fighting it too.”

The Big Island is famous for its remarkable eight climate zones that span the island. In minutes you can transition from wet humid tropical climate to dry semi-arid climate and even, at its most extreme, polar tundra. The Mauna Kea summit contains a unique ecosystem found nowhere else in the world, explains Mangauil, as there are unique species of wolf spider and lichen that live within the cracks of past lava flows on the North Plateau - the location of the proposed TMT telescope. 

It’s clear that Mangauil strives to spark a generational change in how land is treated to ensure conservation for future generations. His anxiety over not being able to promise future generations clean water and land is evident in his passionate accord. He refers to the ending motion of today’s protocol, recalling the phrase E ala a’e.

“To rise up,” explained Mangauil. “It’s the image of rising up like water, like a spring or wave. We all need to just rise up together: the standing guards of the mountain. What we’re fighting right here on the summit of this mountain is the same battle that we are having to fight in many other arenas.”

On December 19, 2019, just one day after my visit to the protest camp, law enforcement and protest elders reached a temporary “winter” hiatus, agreeing to remove police and allow public access up to the summit. Then in early January, at the annual American Astronomical Society meeting in Honolulu, it became apparent that even pro-TMT scientists are realizing there is no easy answer. They want this telescope built to further astronomical research, but they also acknowledge the cultural and environmental perspectives of the Hawaiian indigenous population. At the meeting, Hawaiian researchers submitted proposals for no federal money to be used for construction on state-owned land without the approval of indigenous people. But it was also during this meeting that the Mauna Kea Conversations, daily town hall spaces for the controversial issue to be discussed, took place. The conference website outlines major goals of the Mauna Kea Conversations, stating the intent was to create a safe space to discuss both sides of the issue, where people with different perspectives and predisposed assumptions can listen and learn from each other.

Culture is defined, from an anthropological perspective, as learned human behavior. At times amid controversy, assumptions can dominate our perspectives. We can often become overconfident in our ability to judge a different culture thousands of miles away. I argue that no matter whether you’re for or against the construction of the Thirty Meter Telescope on Mauna Kea, this protest ultimately exposes the human dependence on assumption.

 Hawaiian culture prioritizes a reverence for the land, and perhaps the TMT controversy has forced us all to examine our assumptions. As environmental concerns rise around carbon, renewable energy and the destruction of endangered ecosystems, it’s time for the rebirth of a new human behavior for all of us that prioritizes a relationship with our planet. Mangauil brought it all back to this:

 “So in Hawaii, we have an ancient proverb where we say ‘the land is the chief and the people are the servants.’ We spend more energy and we dedicate more of our resources and our work toward caring for that chief; it’s the natural response that the chief will care for the people.”

WE ARE MAUNA KEA: Personal notes on a mural serve as a testament to the multiple generations coming together at the protest camp to fight for Mauna Kea’s conservation.