Mauna Kea Signal Boosting #2

Dear Readers, Here are important recent statements from Kia’i (Protectors) of Mauna Kea. 

• Sept. 18th statement from representatives of Pu’uhonua o Pu’uhuluhulu regarding police “counter intelligence” efforts to undermine Kia’i.

 

• Professor Kaleikoa Ka’eo testimony to the Office of Hawaiian Affairs (OHA), Sept. 19, 2019.

 

• Kaho’okahi Kanuha testimony to the Office of Hawaiian Affairs (OHA), Sept. 19, 2019.

 

• Edward Halealoha Ayau testimony on the actual ownership of Mauna Kea access road (hint: it’s not Dept. of Transportation).

More to come.

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Design by Laulani Teale.

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In My Heart Today: Two Movements

Today’s Global Climate Strike and the ongoing Aloha ‘Aina (“love of the land”) movement to protect Sacred Mauna Kea in Hawai’i are both part of the larger upswelling of urgency to save our planet and its natural places and living creatures from the impacts of human-caused climate catastrophe and rapacious human greed.

Vist the Pu’uhonua o Pu’uhuluhulu website for more information about the Aloha ‘Aina movement to protect the mountain. You can also check out my blog links.

I’ll be participating in a strike action later today. I’ve opted to not drive 300 miles round trip to San Francisco’s demonstration because I’d use a lot of fossil fuel getting there, so I’ll participate in a smaller action closer to home.

Leaving David Bowie’s Five Years right here…

 

To the 1% and Their Enablers

Fractal_fireDear multi-millionaires and billionaires, dear politicians and policy-makers, dear CEOs and shareholders:

Time to wake up. All of this that you hold so dearly–luxury goods and first class seats, designer clothing and “the best of everything,” the food, the wines, top schools and the servants…(most of all THE POWER!)–and the human lives you hold so cheaply…climate catastrophe is going to tear it from your grasp. All of it. There will be no “growth economy,” no capitalism, no more food when there are no pollinators, no colonies on Mars when the corridors of aerospace factories are strewn with bodies.

You might hold out a little longer than the rest of us, in your 4 bdrm./3 bath underground bunkers complete with hot tub and wide screen TV. You’ll be stocked for what, a year? And then what? Your doctors are dead, your servants have fled, and what happened to the power anyway? Too bad you didn’t invest in solar when you had the chance. Maybe that AOC had something after all, with her “Green New Deal.”

You’ve watched so many Hollywood dystopia movies, the kind where a plucky ensemble cast succeeds against all odds (usually the plucky cast is mostly white, with a person or two of color added as an afterthought, and the hottest babe has the best martial arts skills). The bodies strewn across those cinema landscapes have no odor. Yeah, they’re visually gross but someone would have come along to bury them eventually, wouldn’t they? (They’ve all got SAG cards, anyhow.)

In the past, you could watch one of those movies, enjoy the adrenaline, and then walk back out into your perfectly manicured world. No longer. You’re preening in private now. Go ahead, apply one more coat of nail polish. Slip on those vintage Ivanka heels one last time. Straighten that tie. Fondle the golf clubs. Break open a final bottle of champagne and toast the good life you had at the expense of so many others. The dinosaurs are calling. It’s time to let go.

What? You don’t want to?

Meanwhile, the rest of us–we’re either dying a slow death from the heat or starving or eating each other. We’ve got pre-ice age microbes stalking the earth once more, smaller than Godzilla but a lot more deadly. Our cats, our dogs…our children…are begging us for water but the water is filled with plastic microbeads, fragrance chemicals, agricultural run-off, Lemon Fresh Joy, and thousands of other petro-chemicals. Cyanobacteria bloom and fish are floating to the surface. Dead bees are everywhere. Even the roaches and the rats curse our memory.

The few humans who manage to survive will be the ones with excellent communication skills, a lifetime of working together in a community, and the fundamental knowledge of our ancestors: how to make fire, how to fish, how to hunt, how to grow, how to listen to plants, how to create twine and fabrics, how to manage a fever, how to work metal and chop wood, how to midwife. The good news: a lot of people still have this fundamental knowledge, but most of them are not living in the so-called developed world.

You folks in your bunkers, you folks barricaded in penthouse suites watching the carnage below, you had your chance. You could have acted in your own self-interest, preserved a semblance of the world and wealth that you hold so dear, and used just a fraction of your power and money to help pull the entire planet back from the brink of climate catastrophe. You could have influenced the policy-makers, greased their palms (as you have so many times before), and venture-capitaled some of those high tech gizmos you thought might save us.

It’s come to this. Your children, your grandchildren, are urging you to wake up and do something before it’s too late. And will you listen? We’ll know soon enough. In the meantime, the rest of us are organizing for Climate Justice and are learning  to cooperate humbly with what’s left of the rest of creation.

And we’ll learn how to rub two sticks together. Just in case.


Global Climate Strike Sept. 20-27

Drawdown – Solutions

NY Times Opinion Piece: Sliding Down the Climate Slope

Dockrill, Peter. We’re headed for ‘climate apartheid,’ in which the poor will suffer while the rich save themselves, warns a chilling UN report, BusinessInsider, June 26, 2019.

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Global Climate Strike

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I watched the testimony today as climate change activists Greta Thunberg, Jamie Margolin, Vic Barrett and Benji Backer testified before the Select Committee on the Climate Crisis. I love Greta, but she is so well-known that I want to focus for a moment on the other activists, particularly Jamie Margolin and Vic Barrett.

Barrett, particularly, was given less chance to answer questions from the congressional committee members, who seemed more interested in talking with Benji Backer (conservative political views, committed capitalist, nice suit, tie, cleanshaven, white). I am sorry to say it, but it was so glaringly obvious that certain voices were being privileged to the detriment of others. I was also disgusted by the condescension and “mainsplaining” directed at the young people, particularly Greta.

And all that talk about cell phones as a shining example of the benefits of capitalism? What was up with that? Did those particular politicans think that this was how to get youth to listen to them, by mentioning cell phones? Many cell phones are or have been made with conflict minerals from Africa and thus hardly serve as a shining example of progressive capitalism. Read Blood on Your Cellphones, written by Ciara Torres-Spelliscy for Slate in 2013 ). (FYI: I own an iPhone and a Mac. Here is Apple’s 2018 update on conflict minerals. Apparently the company has taken measures to avoid conflict minerals and smelters since about 2014.)

• Vic Barrett is a fellow with the Alliance for Climate Education. I want to quote his bio from ACE:

<<As a Fellow with the Alliance for Climate Education, Vic traveled to Paris to attend and speak at the COP21 UN Conference on Climate Change, and joined as a plaintiff in the lawsuit brought by Our Children’s Trust against the United States government for failing to act to protect our climate for future generations. After marching in solidarity with more than 400,000 people at the Peoples Climate March in New York City, he organized his peers in local frontline climate campaigns. Through his activism, he has met with the Minister of Environment and Energy for the Maldives, and met with former U.S. astronaut, Kathryn D. Sullivan, who now serves as the Administrator for NOAA, and had the honor of representing young people as a speaker at the United Nations headquarters in New York City for the High-Level Thematic Debate on Achieving the Sustainable Development Goals.

Vic is now an undergraduate student at UW-Madison. He currently sits on the diversity committee for the Nelson Institute to help advise and involve students of color in environmental activism, including action at the local level. Vic cares deeply about climate change, justice, and human rights, especially regarding the ways climate change affects young people like him.>>


• Jamie Margolin is the founder of This Zero Hour. You can find the group’s platforms and statements here. The homepage reads:

<<The Zero Hour movement started with our founder, 16-year-old Jamie Margolin. Frustrated by the inaction of elected officials and the fact that youth voices were almost always ignored in the conversation around climate change and the profound impact that it would have on young people, Jamie started gathering several of her friends in the summer of 2017 to start organizing something big, something hard to ignore! Nadia Nazar, Madelaine Tew, and Zanagee Artis joined her in her efforts.

Jamie realized that a national day of mass action, led by youth, would be an ideal platform to ensure that young voices were not only centered in this conversation, but that elected officials and adults would hear their voices loud and clear!

By the end of the summer, young activists from across the country, from diverse backgrounds, had joined the team and the Zero Hour movement had started taking shape.>>


Thunberg, Margolin, and Barrett seem genuine in their lack of self-interest and commitment to doing everything they can to stave off climate catastrophe. In fact, today Thunberg said (paraphrase) “I don’t want you to listen to me. Listen to the science.”

Such quotes as these from this article confirm my impression:

<<Thunberg chastised members of the Senate Climate Change Task Force on Tuesday for inaction.

“Please save your praise. We don’t want it,” Thunberg said. “Don’t invite us here to tell us how inspiring we are without doing anything about it because it doesn’t lead to anything.”>>

<<Jamie Margolin, a 17-year-old climate change activist from Seattle, also scolded committee members on Wednesday for empty praise.

“You’re promising me lies,” Margolin said. “Everyone who will walk up to me after this testimony saying I have such a bright future ahead of me will be lying to my face. It doesn’t matter how talented we are, how much work we put in, how many dreams we have. The reality is, my generation has been committed to a planet that is collapsing.”>>

I found myself less sure of Benji Backer’s agenda. At times he seemed to undermine the messages of the other three and to set himself up as “the realist” (e.g. conservative, capitalist) of the group. Some of the conservative politicians were practically fawning over him. Possibly they were already imagining him as a “fresh young face” for some duplicitous co-option of the youth movement to forestall climate catastrophe.

Meanwhile, the September 20th #ClimateStrike is on the horizon.

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The Call to be Mauna Ready is Now

Please consider donating your Hawaiian Airlines miles to Kia’i (protectors) who need to respond to this call, this kahea, below. Yesterday I did this very thing, and now a young couple from Maui will be going there later this week, using miles that were sitting in my account doing nothing. You can do this through KAHEA – The Hawaiian Environmental Alliance – and they make it easy and sweet to connect with the people who need to come over from neighbor islands to protect their beautiful, sacred — really, really SACRED — ancestor mountain. Here is the link to donate your miles. Also, the KAHEA staff are wonderful. Just sayin’.


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It’s no surprise that the authorities and pro-TMT folks are putting on the pressure now. The timing makes perfect sense as the Governor Ige/TMT conflict of interest and bribery scandal is just coming to light. This is the result of a well-researched investigation by Dr. Leonard G. Horowitz and Sherri Kane. Their article provides plenty of documentation and corporate connected dots. Naturally, the Governor (having sold his soul and what’s left of a good name to TMT interests) would like to deflect attention from his misdeeds by (1) proving that he’s worth being bribed and (2) showing the protectors that he’s still the boss. (Kind of reminds me of another prominent politician’s playbook…)

To quote from the article on the Judicial Corruption website:


<<Mauna Kea ‘Protectors’ and Kingdom of Hawaii investigators have uncovered evidence of bribery in a $3 million payment taken by Gov. David Ige’s agents through a private ‘security’ company proving conflicting interests in the planned construction of the world’s most powerful telescope–the controversial Thirty Meter Telescope (TMT) opposed by millions of people worldwide.

Compelling evidence of bribery was first discovered in public records reviewed on the Facebook group ʻOnipaʻa Kākou. The records prove the Hawaii governor’s apparent ‘corporate fiction’–David and Dawn Ige Enterprises‘s–had conflicting ties to the $1.3 billion TMT construction project.>>


The governor denies it but the paper trail is pretty convincing.

It’s also not surprising that escalating aggression–from the pro-TMT authorities–has already resulted in needless vandalism and desecration. Earlier this week, a small wooden library and classroom structure for kids at Pu’uhonua o Pu’u Huluhulu. One officer sawed a Hawaiian Kingdom (and “state”) flag in half, a gesture of desecration and disrespect which speaks volumes about the contempt shown to Kanaka Maoli (native Hawaiians) and which also contrasts strongly with the Kia’i principles of Kapu Aloha.

The destruction of a community classroom also contrasts with how TMT has tried to brand itself as a champion of education for island kids and youth. As one Facebook commentor said, “So, it [TMT] never was about education, was it?” Of course, we all knew that. We can all smell PR spin…

On Sept. 6th, the Office of Hawaiian Affairs (OHA) made this statement on the destruction and desecration:


<<State law enforcement’s swift dismantling today of a small wooden structure built by protectors earlier this week brings into sharp focus the longstanding and particularly abhorrent double standard the state uses to enforce land use laws against Native Hawaiians as opposed to others.

Law enforcement removed the small hale, which was located on lands controlled by the Department of Hawaiian Home Lands at the base of Maunakea, because it was an unpermitted structure. Yet the state has a long history of expressly allowing unpermitted and unauthorized astronomy structures that were far larger and located in far more environmentally- and culturally-sensitive areas of the mountain.

Examples include:

The first three telescopes built on the summit of Maunakea failed to apply for a conservation district use permit and therefore were unpermitted for at least six years.

In 1976, the state Department of Land and Natural Resources discovered an additional unauthorized structure. While the Board of Land and Natural Resources (BLNR) approved an $85,000 fine against the building contractor, that fine appears to have never been collected.

In 1982, BLNR approved the Caltech telescope permit with an explicit requirement that no further astronomy development occur until the University of Hawaii completed a new master plan. Two months later, BLNR approved a new telescope before the master plan was completed, thereby endorsing a violation of the Caltech permit.

In 1997, BLNR approved four after-the-fact subleases for telescopes already built or in the process of being built on the summit.

This selective enforcement re-enforces the State Auditor’s finding in 1998 that the state and the University of Hawaiʻi manage Maunakea for astronomy at the expense of everything and everyone else. Moreover, the particularly offensive way todayʻs selective enforcement was carried out, which included the wholly unnecessary sawing of a Hawaiian flag, is deeply troubling, and further adds to the trauma of the Native Hawaiian people and could have escalated an already tense situation.>>


UPDATE: Here’s this morning’s latest from the good people standing for the Mauna at Pu’uhuluhulu.


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Ku Kia’i Mauna!

Loki Spongecake Day: “I Wanna Be Anarchy and Offer Storebought Goodies”

What Loki wants, Loki gets, even if it’s not made by hand, even if it can be bought for ready money. Today is #LokiSpongecakeDay.

The source of this fondly remembered Holy Day is a Tumblr thread where someone took umbrage at a photograph of another devotee’s humble offering of a simple store-bought spongecake (shortcake) with strawberries and whipped cream. And then there were comments and rebuttals, boiling down to “umbrage up yours.” You can find the original 2012 “Spongecake” thread here.

We’re celebrating online today, so show up if you’re inclined. Bring your spongecake and some limericks. Or whatever. And be proud of your spongecake, whether it is handmade from artisan-sourced ingredients or grabbed off the shelf. It’s the thought–the devotion–that counts. Loki will be thrilled with the attention.

Loki Spongecake Day Online


Hail Loki!

Brightest and Best are the Sons of the Morning

Am I wrong to feel disgusted that Siri and Facebook contain programming to remind me of my oldest kid’s birthday? As if I could ever forget it. The birth of that day. It’s been thirty years. And today is appropriately the “Super Black New Moon” in Virgo.

Where does that time go? In that thirty year span I’ve many, many failures and regrets to gnaw over in my darker moments, but the birth and raising of my children are not among them. The children may argue with me and their father about the “success” of their childhoods or the skill of our parenting, but while I deeply regret mistakes I made and the times I got things totally wrong, overall I don’t regret the unrelenting work of childrearing and the attempts to do right by them. My two kids are “the loves of my life,” when you really get down to it. I gave as much as I had to give.

When this first child of mine (who perhaps regards himself as a changeling) was first put into my arms, I was struck by the valor of the new soul. Nothing is so brave as a newborn–physically helpless and relying utterly on their own charm and the animal hope that our intentions toward them are benign, at the very least.

And to incarnate in this shitstorm of an epoch? That takes guts. I was twelve when I began to observe the warning signs of world-wide dystopia and disaster-in-the-making and now here I was, age thirty-six, daring to bring another into the world. Love is foolish, desire for family runs deep. I was not immune to the hubris that says “I can do this.”

The pregnancy was difficult. When I was quite far along, I was put on eleven weeks of strict bedrest to prevent pre-term labor (one week in the hospital, ten at home). I was also prescribed Terbutaline, a drug now contra-indicated for pre-term labor “because of the potential for serious maternal heart problems and death.” (Here’s the 2011 FDA warning.) Terbutaline feels like speed. Imagine having a body and mind that can’t stop  racing, yet being forced to lie flat in bed (only allowed to get up to use the restroom) because to do otherwise might imperil your child? I lived with constant fear and chafed at my helplessness. And what were effects of terbutaline and my fear on the fetus?

During these eleven weeks of bedrest, my sister was coping with having rented an apartment to a man later wanted for killing his own mother with a pickaxe. (The crime happened in another state). I’d get several calls a day from her, first while he was on the lam–she was terrified because legally she could not change the locks on his unit–and then later she would call about all the weird crap found in his place, once he was finally captured. This juxtaposition of my endangered pregnancy with the theme of matricide was deeply disturbing. A couple of years later I attempted to write a murder mystery using some of this material, but I never completed it.

And if that weren’t enough, the gestation and birth of my child also contained the onset of my environmental illness. Before I’d been confined to bedrest, I had begun to notice extreme adverse reactions to fragrances and other substances: headaches, dizziness, fatigue, trouble breathing, and so on. Forays into the outer world were becoming unexpectedly difficult as a result, but I didn’t have a name for what was happening to me.

Once I was freed from the confines of bedrest, and able to lumber about for a couple of weeks before my due date (because a week or two early wouldn’t matter so much), I tried to make the most of my time: lunches with friends, last minute shopping for baby items. In the late 80’s, Noe Valley in San Francisco was the epicenter for the “older first-time mom” phenomena. Women my age or older were suddenly pushing strollers on 24th Street. The woman who ran the store for used baby clothing was a former punk in the SF scene. I felt right at home.

Once our little one was born, I began my time of total immersion in motherhood: nursing, changing diapers, wobbly hormones, hyper-vigilance, sleep deprivation, exhaustion. Due to unforseen circumstances, I was alone for most of the daylight hours, struggling to cope. The Loma Prieta quake hit when the baby was four months old.

I also began to have a feeling that the couple I’d been a part of was for some reason already eroding, even as we had enfolded another into our lives. (We did try our best to keep it together, for many years, even past the birth of our second child…but that’s not a story I want to tell here.) But I/we also had the intense sweetness of bonding with the baby. There’s nothing like it. And I cherish those memories.

It’s also riveting to watch the development of a tiny human as she/he/they/ze grows in size and complexity. I sang silly songs to my baby. The toddler would sing back to me. I remember one time in particular, on the back outside steps of our tiny cottage… I could have died then from happiness. Later there were drawings and stories and harp lessons and anguished observations of bullying directed against my kid. There were passionate friendships and struggles to arrange playdates, especially with one particular mother who didn’t care that her feckless, last minute playdate cancellations were devastating for my kid. There were many, many trips to the California Academy of Sciences and the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park. There were annual Revels. There was Waldorf School (now a source of sour critique). There is so much I remember, and so much forgotten, and so much that my thirty-year old kid would probably like to forget–because there were times I let him down. Badly. The times I was there, doing all the things that mothers do, those are barely worth mentioning as they are part of the young animal’s assumption of care, and for the human in us, part of the atmosphere we breathe. Hopefully not too toxic or cloying, most of the time.

Children must pull away from their parents. They must critique their childhoods and their parents, and reshape themselves in their own chosen images. They are sculptors of self. Even so, as a parent it is hard to watch the teens and twenties. It’s like being on bedrest again, utterly impotent. And yet I’ve never been anything but happy and proud to know this person. So here is my “Son of the Morning,” not so much a star as a streaming millennial comet, determined, self-made, relentlessly creative, and as a song of his says, “never this young again.” His youth he did not waste. I trust his maturity will be wise and fine.

Happy Birthday to My Firstborn.

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