In the heart of the Pacific Ocean, Hawai‘i has long been a symbol of paradise, heritage, and deep spiritual connection to nature.
But today, under the guise of scientific advancement and economic opportunity, a new frontier quietly looms over the islands: space tourism. With billionaire-backed ventures like SpaceX and Blue Origin charting orbital joyrides for the ultra-wealthy, questions arise about the real cost of launching rockets from sacred lands.
The Cosmic Gold Rush
Space tourism is no longer science fiction. In the wake of private spaceflights becoming more routine, the Pacific Islands are viewed as prime launch and observation zones. Hawaii’s geographic location, isolation, and clear skies make it an attractive hub for commercial space companies looking to establish launching pads, tracking stations, and data centers. But the marketing promises of space adventure rarely acknowledge the cultural disruption and environmental consequences for native Hawaiians.
In recent years, government agencies and private companies have conducted feasibility studies in remote parts of the Big Island and Maui for potential launch platforms. Some proposals include the use of decommissioned military land — but in practice, such lands are often near ecologically sensitive or culturally significant zones.
Mauna Kea: A Sacred Mountain Under Siege
The ongoing controversy surrounding the Thirty Meter Telescope (TMT) on Mauna Kea offers a glimpse into what space tourism might bring. Mauna Kea, the tallest mountain in the world from base to summit, is a revered site in Hawaiian cosmology. It is seen as the connection between the Earth and the heavens, the physical body of Wākea, the sky father.
For decades, native Hawaiians have protested against scientific installations on the mountain, arguing that these projects desecrate a sacred space and symbolize the erasure of indigenous voices. With the arrival of space tourism infrastructure, including potential landing and observation zones, the threats extend beyond telescopes to the commercialization of the skies themselves.
Kuʻulei Keakealani, a Hawaiian cultural practitioner, said in a recent town hall, “To build a rocket port on our land is to ignore centuries of tradition. They treat the land as a launchpad — we see it as our ancestor.”
Economic Promise or Cultural Exploitation?
Advocates for space development argue that Hawaii could benefit economically from becoming a launch hub. The state’s struggling economy, especially post-COVID and post-Lahaina fires, has left many seeking new industries. Jobs in aerospace engineering, hospitality, and transportation are frequently touted by space lobbyists.
According to NASA’s 2024 Economic Impact Report, for every NASA civil servant job located in Hawai‘i, an additional 56 jobs are supported in the state economy. For every $1 million of NASA economic output, $24.4 million is generated locally. (NASA REPORT, 2024)
A 2019 update by the University of Hawai‘i Economic Research Organization (UHERO) also emphasized that the astronomy sector fuels the local economy through wages, student spending, and tourism. (UHERO, 2019)
However, critics argue that these benefits are often overstated and unevenly distributed. Land leases may enrich private developers or external corporations, while the long-term environmental and spiritual costs are borne by local communities. Cultural practitioners, elders, and eco-activists warn that once sacred ground is transformed into spaceports or private helipads, the cultural loss is irreversible.
Militarization Concerns
Beyond tourism, some fear space infrastructure could double as military installations. Hawaii’s strategic location has always made it a military interest, from Pearl Harbor to the Pacific Missile Range Facility on Kaua‘i. If commercial space stations evolve into dual-use facilities, Hawai‘i risks becoming a geopolitical pawn in the new space race.
A declassified military report from 2024 hinted at the possibility of “civilian-backed launch assets” being integrated into defense infrastructure. While these proposals are often cloaked in national security rhetoric, they raise serious concerns about consent, sovereignty, and transparency.
According to Hawaiinewsnow.com
“HONOLULU — Hawaiʻi’s congressional delegation, including Sens. Brian Schatz and Mazie Hirono and Reps. Ed Case and Jill Tokuda, are demanding the Navy complete a full environmental impact statement regarding plans to increase bombing exercises on Kaʻula Island.”
“The 500-pound dummy bombs and past exercises remain largely mysterious. Kaʻula, a remote crescent-shaped island 23 miles southwest of Niʻihau, is mainly known to fishermen and cultural practitioners.”
A New Form of Colonization
Many native scholars and activists refer to these developments as a new wave of colonization. The exploitation of land for Western scientific aims without full consent or benefit to indigenous populations mirrors historical patterns of dispossession. In a haunting twist, space — once the realm of limitless possibilities — is now a battleground for sovereignty.
The parallels to the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom in 1893 are not lost on community members. Just as foreign interests once used military and economic power to seize control, today’s tech titans may be using innovation as a similar tool of dominance.
Pua Case, a well-known Hawaiian activist, recently stated: “They say we’re looking to the stars, but they refuse to look at the ground they’re desecrating to get there.” Her words echo a growing sentiment: progress should not come at the price of people’s dignity, spirituality, and homeland.
Spiritual Navigation: A Cultural Legacy at Risk
Long before satellites and telescopes, native Hawaiians were navigating the Pacific by starlight. The ancient art of wayfinding — using stars, waves, and wind — is a cornerstone of Hawaiian identity. The Polynesian Voyaging Society continues this legacy through voyages aboard the Hōkūle‘a, teaching youth about traditional navigation.
There is a painful irony in space tourism advocates claiming that Hawaiians are anti-science. In truth, Hawaiians have been astronomers, cosmologists, and explorers for generations — but they approach the cosmos with humility, not conquest.
“Western science studies the stars,” said navigator Nainoa Thompson. “But we journey through them. Our science is rooted in relationship.”
Path Forward: Ethical Space Exploration
The issue is not space exploration itself. Indigenous communities have long studied the stars through navigation and oral tradition. The problem lies in exclusion. Ethical space development in Hawai‘i would require:
01. Genuine consultation with Native Hawaiian communities
02. Cultural impact assessments as rigorously enforced as environmental ones
03. Transparent land use agreements that prioritize local benefit and conservation
04. Public ownership of data and infrastructure, not privatization
05. Equity sharing in space-related profits for indigenous stakeholders
Organizations like Kahea and the Protect Mauna Kea Movement have called for moratoriums on further astronomical or aerospace development until these standards are met.
John Komeiji, Chair of the Mauna Kea Stewardship and Oversight Authority, warned in 2024: “We would be taking away that vote from people that didn’t have a voice and make them basically an advisory board.” (Hawaii News Now, 2024)
Global Implications: Hawaii as a Litmus Test
What happens in Hawaii could set a precedent for other indigenous territories globally. From Aboriginal Australia to the Amazon, sacred lands are increasingly in the crosshairs of futuristic development. Hawaii, with its high profile and global tourism footprint, serves as a litmus test for whether space exploration can be done ethically — or whether it will follow the colonial playbook.
A 2025 TechNet study found that Hawai‘i could lose over $750 million in tourism spending if short-term rentals were phased out — a reminder of how economically fragile and interconnected the region is. (TechNet, 2025)
Who Owns the Sky?
The sky belongs to everyone. Yet, like land and water, it is quickly being divided, monetized, and fenced off by the few. In Hawaii, the push for space tourism is not just about reaching the stars — it’s about what we’re willing to sacrifice on Earth to get there.
As billionaires race for the edge of space, Hawaiians continue their quiet resistance, grounded in centuries of knowledge and sacred duty to their ancestors. Their question to the world remains unanswered: Can progress exist without displacement? Can we explore the universe without erasing those who understand it most deeply?
The answers lie not in the sky, but in how we choose to treat the Earth beneath our feet.