Seeking Common Ground on Maunakea

by OHA Trustee Keli‘i Akina, PhD, KWO, December 1, 2025

For more than a decade, the Thirty Meter Telescope (TMT) has stood at the center of one of Hawaiʻi’s most polarizing debates. The observatory, designed to peer deeper into the universe than ever before, was slated for construction near the summit of Maunakea, long considered one of the world’s best sites for astronomy.

Yet for many Native Hawaiians, Maunakea is a sacred space not meant for projects such as the TMT.

Now, a new plan from state leaders seeks to chart a different course. In early November, Gov. Josh Green and members of Hawaiʻi’s congressional delegation expressed support for exploring alternate sites for the TMT.

Instead of being built on pristine summit land, the project could relocate to one of several decommissioned observatory footprints. Hawaiʻi County Mayor Mitch Roth welcomed the idea, calling it a “practical compromise” that could honor both science and culture. Supporters see it as a way to move forward after years of impasse.

This approach seeks to offer several advantages. By reusing a site already altered by past observatories, the TMT could significantly reduce its ecological and visual footprint. Culturally, it may lessen the pain felt by those who view new construction on untouched land as desecration. It could also demonstrate good faith by the state and the astronomy community to align with principles of kuleana and stewardship.

Yet the path forward is far from clear. Engineers caution that the TMT’s sheer size – a 30-meter primary mirror housed within a structure nearly 18 stories tall – may not fit within existing footprints. Some sites are too small, while others lack the atmospheric stability required for world-class observation.

The idea of using decommissioned sites isn’t new. In 2022, the Legislature passed Act 255, creating a new management authority for Maunakea and prioritizing reuse of existing telescope footprints. The intent was to ensure that any future development occurs only in previously disturbed areas, minimizing additional impact on the mountain’s summit.

For Native Hawaiian leaders who oppose the project entirely, the question is not where the TMT might go but whether it should be there at all. Many practitioners maintain that even limited redevelopment continues a legacy of imbalance between science and spirituality. For many opponents, even a reduced footprint would still feel like a scar on a sacred landscape.

Meanwhile, TMT’s international partners face funding delays and uncertainty. Costs have tripled to $3 billion, and federal funding has waned as leaders consider relocating the TMT to Spain’s Canary Islands.

The TMT debate reflects a broader truth: Hawaiʻi continues to wrestle with how to reconcile cutting-edge research with deep cultural values. Proponents emphasize education, economic opportunity, and the chance for Hawaiʻi’s youth to lead in global astronomy. Opponents stress sovereignty, cultural continuity, and environmental care. Those seeking compromise hope that transparent dialogue and responsible governance might yield a path that honors both ʻike Hawaiʻi and innovation.

Whether the alternate-site proposal succeeds remains uncertain. But perhaps its greatest value lies not in feasibility, but that it represents a willingness to imagine something beyond confrontation. If Hawaiʻi can balance scientific ambition with respect for wāhi kapu, the conversation around Maunakea could yet evolve from division to shared vision.

In the end, the question may not be where the telescope stands, but how we stand together, in humility before both the heavens above and the ʻāina that grounds us.

E hana kākou!