"As the state Legislature ends, a strange new time in Hawaii politics opens … "
— Richard Borreca, Star-Advertiser, May 6, 2012
Railroads, teacher contracts and undersea cables dominate the news — but something bigger is happening. Hawaii is on the brink of a fourth modern "social contract." When it arrives, it will be a game changer.
"Social contract" is an old idea. Unlike legal contracts, they aren’t written and people don’t sign them. They are generational expectations about leadership and power. Social contracts are the rules of engagement between the governed and those who govern.
Hawaii’s first modern social contract crystalized when Kamehameha the Great established the Hawaiian Kingdom in 1810. Leading up to that was the arrival of off-shore interests, the breaking of traditional kapu, the Law of the Splintered Paddle, and more.
The new social contract went something like this: There will be one nation instead of feudal kingdoms. We will engage with the nations of the world and bring the best new habits of business and society to the islands to meld with cherished local customs. The job of chiefs will be to steward the fusion.
Hawaii’s second contract evolved in the wake of the Mahele and the advent of a juggernaut plantation economy. It came into full force with annexation. The contract was forged by oligarchs. It said: "You outsiders, come here, work hard and don’t make waves. If you agree, you and your successors will prosper. If not, there is no place for you here."
The third contract emerged post-WWII. It culminated in statehood and one-party control. Prosperity rising, the new arrangement promised to embrace those who had been excluded. Public schools no less than the halls of government would be open. Anyone with talent could be a doctor, own a business or become governor.
Today, a new contract is in the offing, born out of fiscal turmoil, growing income disparity and political gridlock. Gallup polls show a steady 10-year decline in our trust in major institutions: police, schools, courts, churches, media, universities, big and small business and, most of all, government. The loss is tectonic and fundamental. It goes far beyond the November elections and the rhetorical assertions of Democrats, Republicans and independents.
Old covenants are being broken. Remember those retirement and health benefits you thought you had? They won’t all be there. Jobs and good schools? Can’t guarantee them. Reasonably priced energy and food? Probably not. Functioning public facilities? Not likely for a while. To be clear, our leaders really want to take care of these things. They can’t. The money isn’t there. Fiscal shortage and political gridlock are the new normal.
A friend says people in Hawaii, especially young people, are wildly unprepared for what is coming. In the face of diminished public resources, one message will be that you must take care of yourself. The fragile and vulnerable will suffer most. Another will be that voting and civic engagement, already low, don’t mean much. A third will be a "me first" mentality that leads to increased squabbling over diminishing resources.
But in the face of public austerity, the laws of paradox will also play out. Beyond whining, we may discover new strengths, greater resilience and new forms of collaboration. We will learn to work together in more nimble ways and stop blindly relying on "Big P" politics for all the answers. That which is local and closer to home will have greater value, whether it’s fresh food or local schooling for kids.
A generation of new leaders will also emerge to replace those who keep recycling old habits into different political jobs. Leaders can’t do everything, but the best of them will articulate a new sense of what makes us tick and better strategies for meeting the tests that are coming. It will all happen sooner than you think.
On vacation: "On Politics" columnist Richard Borreca is on vacation.
Peter S. Adler, of Manoa, specializes in public policy mediation and innovative problem solving; he is former president and CEO of The Keystone Center based in Colorado.
