Under the Sun
Cynthia OI
Military in isles behaves like an unwanted guest
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
HERE'S a scenario: People knock on the door one day and ask if they can use your backyard for a community get-together. The gathering will be a time for neighbors to get to know each other, organize, say, a watch group to keep the area safe from criminals and talk about common problems and solutions.
Your backyard is lovely, a place to sit and look at the sky and enjoy the calls of birds. The thought of scores of feet tramping around the trees and shrubs is disturbing, but you recognize the value of the meeting, the benefits people will derive from it. You say OK. After all, everyone has promised to be mindful of the pilo bushes and maile vines.
So the meeting is arranged, people come and go. In their wake, they leave trash, upturned soil and ravaged vines where fragrant leaves once flourished.
Later, when the land and plants are healing, the people again approach you. Another session is needed and since you were so kind as to provide your yard before, would you do it once more? You tell them the backyard is all buss' up. Then how about the front yard, they ask? Burned once, you are reluctant. But it's for the good of the community, they say. You yield.
When the people are gone, the front yard lies in ruin. This time, the damage is so extensive, the land is unsafe. You ask the people to fix it. They say they don't have enough money for restoration, but they can put up a fence so that no one gets hurt.
Next thing you know, the same people are knocking on doors down the block or around the corner, seeking to use someone else's land. So it will go -- until someone says no.
It may be time now for Hawaii to say no. No to further destruction of our land, no to unexploded bombs and pollution from chemicals they contain, no to damage of remaining habitats for rare and endangered birds and plant life, no to the arbitrary military disposition to run over forests, plains and hills then abandon them when they are made unsafe for more drills.
Last week, the Marine Corps announced that it will fence off 187 acres of Oahu's Waikane Valley because more than three decades of use as a live-fire range has left it too dangerous for further exercises. Without money -- actually, the will -- to find and remove the unexploded grenades, rockets and mortars, the most the Marines can do is put up barriers to keep people out.
On the Big Island, the federal government is finally getting around to clearing away World War II-era explosives from 123,000 acres near Waikoloa Village where close to 5,000 people live. Old bombs and munitions are so common at the former training ground that kids at an elementary school are given lessons about staying away from such objects and magnetic lists of warnings to fix on refrigerators at home. The danger is real; at least five people have been killed by mortar rounds or grenades accidentally triggered.
Yet, military forces are knocking on our doors again, asking to let them fire howitzers and bullets, to drive over the contours between Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa with 19-ton armored vehicles. (They don't really need to ask, but are going through the motions anyway.)
Politicians in Washington say we should be grateful; the military will bring money to the islands in trade. They say we must sacrifice the land for the greater good of America, that without training, soldiers won't be prepared to fight our enemies.
Training is good. Training is necessary. But maybe it should be done somewhere else, where the land, plants and animals aren't so sensitive. Why Hawaii? Because we're far away -- out of sight and out of mind -- and because the perception of the islands as territorial possession rather than state prevails.
If the military wants to wreak havoc on Hawaiian soil, it should first have the money and a realistic plan to clean up the mess before it takes its tanks and goes elsewhere. Otherwise, it can keep the so-called economic benefits it says its presence metes out. We'll pass on the deal.
Cynthia OI
Military in isles behaves like an unwanted guest
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
HERE'S a scenario: People knock on the door one day and ask if they can use your backyard for a community get-together. The gathering will be a time for neighbors to get to know each other, organize, say, a watch group to keep the area safe from criminals and talk about common problems and solutions.
Your backyard is lovely, a place to sit and look at the sky and enjoy the calls of birds. The thought of scores of feet tramping around the trees and shrubs is disturbing, but you recognize the value of the meeting, the benefits people will derive from it. You say OK. After all, everyone has promised to be mindful of the pilo bushes and maile vines.
So the meeting is arranged, people come and go. In their wake, they leave trash, upturned soil and ravaged vines where fragrant leaves once flourished.
Later, when the land and plants are healing, the people again approach you. Another session is needed and since you were so kind as to provide your yard before, would you do it once more? You tell them the backyard is all buss' up. Then how about the front yard, they ask? Burned once, you are reluctant. But it's for the good of the community, they say. You yield.
When the people are gone, the front yard lies in ruin. This time, the damage is so extensive, the land is unsafe. You ask the people to fix it. They say they don't have enough money for restoration, but they can put up a fence so that no one gets hurt.
Next thing you know, the same people are knocking on doors down the block or around the corner, seeking to use someone else's land. So it will go -- until someone says no.
It may be time now for Hawaii to say no. No to further destruction of our land, no to unexploded bombs and pollution from chemicals they contain, no to damage of remaining habitats for rare and endangered birds and plant life, no to the arbitrary military disposition to run over forests, plains and hills then abandon them when they are made unsafe for more drills.
Last week, the Marine Corps announced that it will fence off 187 acres of Oahu's Waikane Valley because more than three decades of use as a live-fire range has left it too dangerous for further exercises. Without money -- actually, the will -- to find and remove the unexploded grenades, rockets and mortars, the most the Marines can do is put up barriers to keep people out.
On the Big Island, the federal government is finally getting around to clearing away World War II-era explosives from 123,000 acres near Waikoloa Village where close to 5,000 people live. Old bombs and munitions are so common at the former training ground that kids at an elementary school are given lessons about staying away from such objects and magnetic lists of warnings to fix on refrigerators at home. The danger is real; at least five people have been killed by mortar rounds or grenades accidentally triggered.
Yet, military forces are knocking on our doors again, asking to let them fire howitzers and bullets, to drive over the contours between Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa with 19-ton armored vehicles. (They don't really need to ask, but are going through the motions anyway.)
Politicians in Washington say we should be grateful; the military will bring money to the islands in trade. They say we must sacrifice the land for the greater good of America, that without training, soldiers won't be prepared to fight our enemies.
Training is good. Training is necessary. But maybe it should be done somewhere else, where the land, plants and animals aren't so sensitive. Why Hawaii? Because we're far away -- out of sight and out of mind -- and because the perception of the islands as territorial possession rather than state prevails.
If the military wants to wreak havoc on Hawaiian soil, it should first have the money and a realistic plan to clean up the mess before it takes its tanks and goes elsewhere. Otherwise, it can keep the so-called economic benefits it says its presence metes out. We'll pass on the deal.
