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Under the Sun
Cynthia Oi
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New activism seeded by previous generations
OF all the catalogs that turn up in my mailbox, one I look forward to most comes from an outdoor clothing and equipment company.
Among the pages of well-designed, well-made, environmentally conscious shirts, shorts, jackets and bags for surfing, hiking, climbing and paddling, Patagonia's sales publication scatters essays by famous and not-so-famous outdoors enthusiasts and others who have something to say about matters near to their souls.
One of these was written by Jack Johnson, the North Shore native son who can truthfully claim the multiple designations of surfer, singer, songwriter, filmmaker, Grammy nominee and front man for Kokua Hawaii Foundation, an organization devoted to environmental education.
Johnson recounts how at age 15, he stood reluctantly on a roadside next to his friend Blake McElheny holding a sign reading "Save Sunset Beach," wanting to go surfing or mountain biking instead. But his parents and McElheny's father were participants and organizers of a protest against a plan that would set a luxury development atop the Pupukea-Paumalu highlands. So there he was, getting his first taste of what is labeled as "activism."
The term is often used as a pejorative along with the tag "activist." Despite their neutral definitions, they have become interchangeable with "protester," which to many means pesky troublemakers, noisy humbug buggahs, the coalition of "no."
IT SEEMS that more than anyone, Walter Ritte draws those brands. The Molokai man, one of the original members of the Protect Kahoolawe Ohana, has been an enduring presence in the struggle for Hawaiian rights, the environment and preservation of a way of life that many believe looks backward and cannot be sustained in our so-called modern world.
Ritte has been the target of derision. His persistence in the face of daunting odds evokes exasperated remarks like, "What does he want now?" "He's always protesting something" and "Why doesn't he just give it up?"
WELL, THE DAY Ritte and people like him give it up will be a dismal day for Hawaii and for America. A nation that supposedly values perseverance does not extend respect to those who question authority and the imposition of a mass viewpoint that requires round pegs fit into square puka.
Ritte's most visible battle of late involves the University of Hawaii's patents on kalo, or taro. UH says it has a right to patent the kalo because it developed the disease-resistant strains. That's true, but the kalo it used for breeding did not magically appear through its researchers' efforts; they were part of the bounty of nature or, as Hawaiians believe, from their origins.
It is easy to dismiss the beliefs as folklore because they don't reside in the cultural mainstream, but few who do so would not think of scoffing at accounts of virgin births.
Some deride Ritte's tactics -- this time padlocking doors at the UH medical school -- as publicity stunts. They are. Otherwise, he and his colleagues would continue to be ignored. He, like many who hold minority views, has to shout, rattle the chains and bang the drums.
I DON'T KNOW if Ritte cares about negative characterizations. It's hard to imagine that even with the thick skin he's developed after all these years, he does not feel at least a hint of pain, but he carries on.
Johnson and McElheny -- who helped steer the successful preservation of the Pupukea bluffs as his elders set out to do -- inherited their community awareness from the generation to which Ritte belongs. Their credentials are built on his and of others like him.
They are a new species of activists. As Johnson writes in his essay, "Rather than being against development, we are for the land." But differences do not make one better than the other. Both cultivate the somebody who stands up and says something.
Cynthia Oi has been on the staff of the Star-Bulletin since 1976. She can be reached at
coi@starbulletin.com.