MAUNA KEA, Hawaii (AP) — Shane Palacat-Nelsen’s voice drops to a reverent tone as he tells the story of the snow goddess Poliahu, who native Hawaiians believe inhabits the summit of Mauna Kea, Hawaii’s highest point .
The story tells of a chief who longed to woo Poliahu but was stopped by her servants who guarded the sacred mountain peak – the abode of the gods and the cradle of creation.
Today, this sublime peak on Hawaii’s Big Island is also cherished by astronomers as a gateway to finding answers to the universe’s many mysteries, creating varied – and sometimes irreconcilable – views on what is best for the future from Mauna Kea.
The chief was eventually granted access, on the condition that he only step on the same footprints left by the attendant who escorted him back and forth, Palacat-Nelsen said. He says it’s a metaphor for why Mauna Kea needs to be protected from further human encroachment, pollution and erosion.
“You do not enter the holy mountain unless you are called. You don’t go up there without a purpose.”
Mauna Kea is a dormant 4,000-meter-high shield volcano. In native Hawaiian lore, it is the firstborn son of the Sky Father and the Earth Mother. The mountain’s dry atmosphere and limited light pollution make for a perfect location to study the sky – one of only a few on Earth.
Over the past fifty years, astronomers have mounted a dozen giant telescopes on the summit, making several lofty discoveries, such as proof that the Milky Way has a supermassive black hole at its center. That research led to the 2020 Nobel Prize in Physics.
The proliferation of observatories has alarmed many native Hawaiians, who have retreated. According to them, such construction pollutes the sacred mountain peak and erodes the environment. In 2019, thousands protested a proposed $2.65 billion Thirty Meter Telescope project near the summit. This protest was the catalyst for the passage of a new state law that transferred jurisdiction of the mountain to a new stewardship authority composed of scientists and native Hawaiian cultural practitioners.
Neither side wants to reduce this debate to a conflict between culture and science, because Hawaiian spirituality embraces science, and many astronomers respect Hawaiian culture. Some Observatory staff and cultural practitioners are taking small, tentative steps toward new dialogue, but overcoming the divide will involve difficult conversations and understanding different perspectives.
Located 4,205 meters above sea level, Mauna Kea’s summit evokes an ethereal feeling as fluffy clouds wrap the cinder cones and cover the reddish, almost Mars-like ground. On a clear day, Mauna Loa, one of the most active volcanoes in the world, is visible.
Climbing Mauna Kea is like peeling back the layers of an onion, says Kealoha Pisciotta, a longtime activist. The slopes contain ceremonial platforms, ancestral burial grounds, and the waters of Hawaii’s only alpine lake, which are believed to possess healing properties.
“The higher you go, the closer your heart is to heaven,” she says, adding that construction and bulldozing near the summit threatens people’s sacred bond with the land.
Palacat-Nelsen, a member of the working group that laid the foundation for the new authority, says people must be willing to have uncomfortable conversations to protect the mountain and preserve the sanctity of the summit.
John O’Meara, who moved to Hawaii to become chief scientist at Keck shortly before the 2019 protest, is now a key player in that dialogue. He learns about the strong connection many Native Hawaiians have with Mauna Kea, and he is fascinated by similarities between spirituality and astronomy.
“We are fundamentally asking the same questions, namely: where are we? Where did we come from? And where are we going? There is a deep connection with the universe… and that is what we need to focus on,” he said.
Doug Simons, director of the University of Hawaii’s Institute for Astronomy, points to the opening lines of the Kumulipo, an ancient Hawaiian creation song that describes a scene strikingly similar to what astronomers think existed during the Big Bang.
The Kumulipo’s description of a dark, eternal form of energy from which everything comes sounds to Simons like dark energy, which astronomers believe predated the universe. Mauna Kea’s telescopes are at the forefront of dark energy discoveries, Simons said.
Lanakila Mangauil, a native Hawaiian spiritual practitioner, was about 9 when he first entered the mountain for snow play at lower elevations. His family never went to the top.
“One of the important spiritual practices on Mauna Kea is our absence,” he said. “We stay away from it because it is sacred.”
Mangauil doesn’t like to use the word “religion” to describe his spiritual practice. Hawaiians have no central religion, he said, but spiritual practices that emerge from different communities, families and environments.
Not all native Hawaiians consider Mauna Kea sacred in a religious sense, including Makana Silva, an astronomer who grew up on Oahu and was raised Catholic. He is now a postdoctoral researcher at Los Alamos National Laboratory in New Mexico and first visited the summit of Mauna Kea three years ago. He believes that astronomy should thrive on the mountain so that there is a place for Hawaiians to continue their legacy of innovation.
The future of astronomy on the mountain will be decided in large part by the Mauna Kea Stewardship and Oversight Authority, which takes over management of the mountain from the University of Hawaii. Astronomers like Simons worry that if the 65-year lease for the top countries expires as planned in 2033, it could spell the end for astronomy in Hawaii. Simons says this would be “catastrophic” and damage the aspirations of Hawaii’s budding astronomers.
Palacat-Nelsen doesn’t believe summit astronomy will end anytime soon. But he does see the lease being renewed at a higher price than the $1 per year the University of Hawaii now pays.
He hopes for better understanding between the two communities. He recently invited a few Keck astronomers and officials to his family’s “heiau,” or place of worship, on the Big Island. It impacted Rich Matsuda, Keck’s interim director, who said the experience sheds light on the extensive preparation required to enter a sacred space, such as leaving the problems of everyday life outside. He has since followed similar protocols when traveling to the summit and believes these could be shared more widely with other telescope workers.
Palacat-Nelsen said such efforts by observatories give him hope that people will become more aware of their footprints on Mauna Kea. He is grateful to his ancestors for preserving Mauna Kea so that current generations have the opportunity to experience the divine. He wonders if he can do that for posterity.
“Will they still be talking about me like that in 200 years?” he asks. “I hope.”
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Associated Press religion reporting is supported by the AP’s partnership with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.