It is led by everyday island people who walk among us mostly unnoticed—a teacher, a farmer, a pastor, a coach, an entrepreneur, a supervisor, a laborer, an artist… You know who they are. They practice values that were forged over many generations of struggle and survival: 

Get good at what you do. Support your ʻohana through hard work. Teach the young, honor the old, and help those in trouble. Leave places better than you found them. Don’t take more than you need and don’t waste. Serve the community. Share generously with others and reciprocate kindness. Live with courage, humility, joy and grace.

These islanders and their island values clash with the philosophy that dominates today’s world. It’s the philosophy that has been hardwired into the economy and enshrined in our laws. In today’s world, if something doesn’t have a monetary value, the system considers it to have no value—so instead of having the things that really matter in life, we get easily stuck on a treadmill of debt, distraction, and overwork. In today’s world, we can’t seem to stop ourselves from extracting value from people and places—so we are now poised to leave the planet a worse place for our children. In today’s world, we are told that when everyone focuses on self-interest, everyone will win because of the trickle down effect—so we have become obsessed with economic growth and incapable of dealing with real social problems. 

Simply put, we are living in a system that pursues the wrong goals.

But island people—connected to one another on a sacred homeland—know instinctively that our current path is irrational and small. When the “real world” tells them that they should take, island people instead choose to take care—take care of responsibilities, take care of others, take care of their island home.  

Today, islanders are uniting to reshape their society around these ancient and universal values. First, they are solving problems for the people. Driven by inspiration or desperation, anger or aloha, islanders are tuning out political nonsense, bureaucratic absurdity, and commercial spin. They care more about doing good than looking good, so they are focused on action that restores life to ‘āina, educates kids, heals people, houses people, feeds people, and retakes public spaces. Principals, teachers and students are reinventing schools. Business owners and smart shoppers are building a locally owned economy. Innovative public employees are reinventing government. Farmers, food banks, and chefs are developing a local food system. Community groups are cutting back on waste, generating clean energy, and repairing our ecosystems. Kūpuna, crafters, writers and musicians are saving our cultures. Islanders everywhere are generating real wealth by taking care of the things that matter.

Islanders are also organizing a community of the people. They know that every place and every person has an important story. To islanders, our land is not just property from which to extract as much monetary value as possible.  To islanders, people are not just consumers, statistics, members of a target audience, or “human capital.” And so islanders listen, they invite, they engage, they seek to understand, they share responsibilities, they build networks, they work to resolve conflicts, they make space for relationships. They don’t just mobilize for a moment; they organize for the long haul around common values.  In a time when “the people” are often feared, disdained or ignored, islanders embrace the dignity of all people, respect the gift that each one possesses, and build the solidarity needed to change the system.

Finally, islanders are building a society run by the people. Right now, a tiny group of insiders runs the public and private institutions, controls the resources, sets the agenda, and makes the rules. We are told to trust them—they will make the decisions, create the jobs, design the communities, and keep us informed. But some of the folks who run things have no problem with hijacking public resources for private gain, selling out island assets, and draining the people of their spirit. And even though good-hearted people join the insiders’ club, the system is still astoundingly bad at delivering what the people value and need. Instead, the system has a mind of its own—it preserves itself, measuring the wrong things in pursuit of the wrong goals. The system is mired in process, separated into silos, chronically shortsighted, inept at evolving for a changing world, and too comfortable with mediocrity. It is quick to dismiss island people while eagerly seeking counsel from outsiders. It has lost faith in the people and lost the faith of the people. And when a system so consistently falls short of the people’s ideals and values, the predictable results are apathy, hopelessness, inequality, injustice, conflict, isolation, and despair. Because the system can’t change itself, island people will have to place more and more fellow islanders in leadership positions. Slowly but surely, people with no interest in hoarding power, status, access, or wealth—people who only want to take care of people and place—will take over the public and private institutions. Island people will unite to rewrite the policies, share power, and change the system to free our schools, our media, our politics, our food, our energy, our economy, our lands, and our communities from the debilitating consequences of every-man-for-himself.

When islanders focus on the things that matter, organize communities, and retake control of our own systems, we will create a society of abundant health; not just for some, but for all; not just for right now, but for generations to come. Real democracy will lead to the creation of a new way, worthy of our island values and reminiscent of our ancestors—gentle, yet steadfast, humble, yet powerful—an island community for the people, of the people, by the people.