Why post-pandemic Hawai’i is looking for a different type of traveler

One morning in the fall of 2020, the senior director of Hawai’i Visitor and Convention Board (HVCB) Kainoa Daines went down to Waikiki Beach for a swim when he noticed something strange. Daines is local and part Native Hawaiian. Except for a college detour, Hawaii has always been his home.

“Besides myself, there were maybe 10 other people on one of the busiest, arguably most famous, beaches on the planet,” he said in an email to me one afternoon. “Everyone was local, just taking a dip—several fishermen casting lines, no flower lei on the outstretched arms of the Duke Kahanamoku statues, no sheen of sunscreen on the water’s surface. It was equally calming and unnerving,” he says.

“Local” in Hawai’i means more than just someone who lives there. A local is someone who was born or raised in Hawai’i. A local can speak and understand Pidgin—Hawaii’s slang language, which is a mix of Hawaiian, English, Asian and Polynesian languages.

Daines doubts a moment that quiet will ever happen again, but he said it did push him to focus on a more sustainable approach to tourism, one that is balanced with and reclaims Native Hawaiian traditions.

“For thousands of years, before outside contact, Native Hawaiians thrived in these islands in near-perfect harmony with their resources and the environment,” says Daines, who graduated from the prestigious Kamehameha Schools before attending college on the mainland. “It’s time to look back to our ancestors for guidance to better understand and chart our path forward.”

At the start of the pandemic, Hawai’i Tourism Authority (HTA) had already begun a six-year plan with four main pillars to guide Hawai’i’s vision for tourism—respect for natural resources, support for Hawaiian culture, enrichment for local communities and strengthening Hawaii’s unique brand.

While some projects had been in the works for years, legislation and government-funded programming had gotten stuck behind bureaucratic tape or pushed to a back burner. Only when the tourists went away did the veil lift—or, in Hawai’i’s case—the sunscreen left the surface of the water.

Without tourists, the rainbow of colors came back to the reefs. Trash was kept in the cans. Beaches regained their iconic looks. Locals saw the changes. Politicians saw the changes. And a time of stillness became a time for action.

For decades, sunscreens applied thickly to beachgoers’ bodies would inevitably run off the skin they were supposed to protect, then linger on the top of the ocean. This greasy film did its job and blocked the sun’s UV rays, killing the coral life below it.

While Hawai’i had passed a bill in 2018 to ban the sale of sunscreen that was not reef-safe, the law did not officially go into effect until January of 2021. But then COVID-19 shut down travel, forcing an early—if unofficial—start date on the ban.

Trevor Kiaʻiokaʻuhane Collier, a Maui man, is softspoken and prefers to go by Kiaʻi. He is a land steward and educator with the Hawai’i Land Trust, an organization set up to protect the lands that sustain Hawaiʻi.

“People just became more aware of the impact of the tourism industry and the number of visitors that actually come to the island,” he tells me. “Local people actually saw tens of thousands of cars that were de-fleeted in the sugar cane fields here in Maui. There are barely any cars on the road, especially going into Hana and the popular tourist areas.”

Without tourists, the rainbow of colors came back to the reefs. Trash was kept in the cans. Beaches regained their iconic looks. Locals saw the changes. Politicians saw the changes. And a time of stillness became a time for action.

When I wrote to Caroline Anderson, director of planning at the tourism board, asking her why she thought conservation and cultural representation was coming to the forefront now, I found that her response was similar to Kia’i. “The pandemic gave us the opportunity to pause and reflect on how we wanted to reset and rebuild tourism, based on our residents’ needs, during which we engaged the community and developed the Destination Management Action Plans.”

Each island now has its own Destination Management Action Plans (DMAP) and HTA is tracking the progress. Developed in February 2021, these plans identify areas of biodiversity and cultural significance on each island (many of which are also tourist hotspots). Goals have been established to protect and preserve these areas, as well as develop educational programming and community opportunities for locals.

Some changes are small—such as using native plants like ‘a’ali’i to make leis or going back to cloth skirts to perform the hula.

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“It’s important for us to reclaim our identity, our narrative as a destination and Indigenous people,” Daines says. “Orchids and grass skirts are not Hawaiian. They’re part of the broader foundation of misconceptions that we’ve endured for generations.”

Other changes are larger. Access is being restricted in some places like Kahulu‘u Bay, where the Department of Land and Natural Resources has reduced the number of permits allowed for commercial beach access. Reservation systems let natural resources and marine life to regenerate.

Some types of tours have ended altogether. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration banned swimming with Hawaiian spinner dolphins in September 2021 and the law went into effect in a month.

On Oahu, the DMAP’s first goal is literally “to reduce the number of tourists” by cracking down on illegal accommodation and short-term rentals. These tourist accommodations have driven up the already-high cost of living in Hawai’i.

“One of the foundational Hawaiian values that many kamaʻāina [locals] grew up with is that when I visit a place—whether it’s a friend’s house, a community space, a nearby beach, or another country—I have a responsibility to leave that place better than when I found it.”

- Ilihia Gionson, tourist board

In many cases, locals live with several generations in one household. While this started as a cultural practice, it is now a necessity in order to make ends meet.

Actions like limiting tourists are preserving what makes Hawai’i special, but with a locals-first approach so that Hawaii remains liveable, beautiful and economically robust in spite of the presence of mainstream tourism.

Guests can also feel empowered by actively helping with more than just their wallets. “Voluntourism,” the act of volunteering as a tourist, gives participants access to some parts of Hawai’i typically reserved for stewards of the land. Volunteers learn more deeply about the culture and state they are visiting. They are able to preserve native areas with their own hands and work alongside local stewards of the area who take the time to connect with their ancestry and the literal roots of the land.

In 2021, the pay-it-forward Malama Hawaii Program was introduced. Participants designate a portion of their time to volunteer and receive discounts on their hotel (sometimes even a free night), which goes a long way for anyone who has ever visited the Islands. Volunteer opportunities include planting native trees, beach clean-ups, aquaculture, and sustainable native farming.

For Ilihia Gionson, the tourism board’s public affairs officer, a traveler’s legacy is important. “One of the foundational Hawaiian values that many kamaʻāina [locals] grew up with is that when I visit a place—whether it’s a friend’s house, a community space, a nearby beach, or another country—I have a responsibility to leave that place better than when I found it,” he says.

Back on Maui, Kia’i has led Malama Hawai’i programs at Waihe’e Coastal Dunes and Wetlands Refuge, and Kapoho. Access to the dunes requires a semi-challenging hike to low-lying land that used to be the home of two ancient Native Hawaiian villages. While school tours visit often, tourists rarely know of these locations.

“Being exposed to these areas, you get to see the actual practice happening rather than a performance,” he says. “If a tourist can understand the connectivity that locals have to the land, then they can be more respectful and their own experience changes drastically. If a local sees that you have this sense of respect and awareness of the culture, your stay is a lot more pleasant because you won’t get those locals yelling at you.”

Hawaii is putting locals at the center of its change to make sure their homes and lives are positively impacted by tourism whether that is by keeping ancient fishing grounds clean or making sure cash is entering into the local economy rather than large national businesses or private hands that live on the mainland. Behind-the-scenes, Hawai’i legislation is working to improve infrastructure so that the importation of products won’t be as necessary and the cost of living can be driven down.

The tourist-led economy now wants empathetic tourists and people who will follow guidelines and signage. People who know not to approach endangered sea turtles. People who will take their trash with them. People who respect and care for other people. People who stay on the trails. People who look at sunscreen labels before they buy them. People who wear masks because it might help someone else—even in the slightest way.

In this way, Hawai’i is setting the example for other over-touristed destinations that saw their wildlife come back as foreigners left. Hawai’i is showing other nations that its native people are essential to the land, and not just there to employ the service industry. Some places have started making small strides forward in this way, giving back to the communities they sit on. Others can use Hawai’i as a jumping off plan for their own pivotal change.