Plastic Ocean: A Call for Kuleana

Back on-island and doing beach cleanups with Surfrider Kauai, I’m even more shocked at the amount of plastic we find washed up in places where only a decade ago I could bury my body in clean unadulterated sand. The plastic is smaller now that the currents have finally pushed the Great Pacific Garbage Patch towards California. Less in quantity too, but I mean mostly smaller in size. At least back then it was easy to spot the nets, fishing traps, toothbrushes, flip flops, and occasional mattresses or tires brought to shore by that one of many soupy islands of trash now floating in the navel of the Earth. But now we’re left with their essence—remnants smashed and broken up by the waves until too small to sift from the sand ever again. If you look closely, the beaches now glitter blue and white, because the fish and birds tend to eat the other colors that draw their attention against a backdrop of azure sky and waves. It’s hard to tell anymore what’s organic or manmade. Shell or plastic? Coral or silicone? Bone or styrofoam?

There’s now enough plastic debris on the planet to cover a land mass the size of Argentina— most of it was created in the past twenty years and comes from single-use products that we lived without up until very very recently. Since all of this plastic was created from petroleum and fracked gas, as I let it fall through my fingers and caress my toes I can’t help but think of the other corpses that their creation requires—not only the marine life who choke to death or drown in their own element or suffocate after oil spills, but also the inhabitants of indigenous communities and low-income extraction zones and backwater dumping grounds who continue to die from cancers, asthma and other diseases all in the name of power and convenience.

In the Hawaiian culture there exist some deeply rooted concepts for which I wish we had English equivalents:

“Malama Aina”— to nurture the land so that it can provide for future generations. 

“Kuleana”—our reciprocal responsibility to our community, fulfilled with intent and diligence.

“Kokua”—to selflessly and lovingly provide help.

“Ho’oponopono”—to come together to resolve a crisis, restoring harmony and balance.

And so we don our gloves, gather our burlap sacks and set out in silent contemplation, wondering “can we possibly make a difference?” But the truth is, at this point it doesn’t matter how big a difference we make—doing nothing will only leave us buried in a mountain of capitalist regrets. There’s no choice but to fight the tide, to act on our kuleana, our contribution for living on this Earth.

There’s also a Hawaiian proverb that I find particularly poignant in these changing times: “I ka wa mamua, ka wa mahope,” which translates to “the future is in the past.” Every decision matters. Please limit your consumption of plastic.