Pass bills to keep farmland secure

To start with, 854 acres is an enormous expanse of land to police. Add in a mishmash of zoning and land-use rules, and the complications multiply. Top it off with jurisdictional conflicts between state and city, and the situation is virtually uncontrollable. Welcome to Kunia Loa Ridge Farmlands, an enterprise that continues to court controversy for condoning houselike structures and other illegal uses on lots zoned for agriculture only.

Lawmakers now are pursuing some overdue gatekeeping for the agricultural development — and though the attempt is welcome, the proverbial horse may well have long left the barn. For at least three years now, instead of being a model project for farming and ranching as envisioned, Kunia Loa has become notorious for scofflaws who build dwellings with impunity and flout operations such as a dog daycare, a Buddhist temple and online vacation rentals.

All that had gone mostly unchecked at Kunia Loa, an agricultural-zoned and -taxed venture created under a state law covering leased agricultural lands. The law prohibits residential use on the acreage, which is exempted from county subdivision requirements such as paved roads; it is not connected to the grid for power, water, sewer or phone.

The absence of conventional boundaries, though, has spawned dozens of illegal structures at Kunia Loa — as well as crackdown obstacles:

>> Because these are ostensibly ag lots, there are no street names or addresses, making borders and enforcement challenging.

>> Building laws are muddled, due partly to a 2012 state law that exempted certain ag structures, such as tool and storage sheds, from city building codes if they are smaller than 1,000 square feet and on a rural commercial farm or ranch.

>> Owned by a nonprofit cooperative, Kunia Loa Ridge was never officially subdivided into 99 lots for agribusiness as intended. As such, its members hold proprietary leases but don’t own the lots — so for city citation purposes, it’s one owner for the entire 854-acre project. That setup of co-op ownership, city inspectors say, prevent them from entering a suspicious residential structure without permission.

It’s on that last point that Senate Bill 698 aims to give state and county agencies needed authority to enter leased or subdivided ag property to investigate if they suspect violations, as long as sufficient notice is given to the owner/occupant. Encouragingly, the measure has cleared several Senate committees, as has a similar bill, SB 689.

For all the talk of food sustainability, the situation festering at Kunia Loa makes a mockery of idealistic policies. What could have been a model to encourage farming and ranching on fallow acreage has turned into abuse of agricultural lands. Some farmers are managing to use their leased lands for agribusiness, as intended, but others have given up. And, in June 2015, over two dozen farmers sued the landowner and developer over land-lease allegations.

In response largely to articles by Star-Advertiser reporter Rob Perez, officials finally made a concerted effort to cite scofflaws after years of passivity enabled by enforcement complexities. Last May and June, a multi-agency crackdown aided by a drone resulted in more than 30 citations, including for illegal dwellings. One photo of a cited illegal home showed a full kitchen with cabinetry, granite countertops and stainless steel refrigerator and appliances.

After years of unchecked pop-up dwellings, the current legislative bills seem like a last-gasp attempt to wrestle Kunia Loa back to its agricultural mission launched some seven years ago. Officials indeed need firmer authority to crack down — but it would be just the start of a long, tough row to hoe for the “Farmlands” to live up to its name and vision.