Shoal of Time

What an infuriating book. We humans can be so vile.

Daws gives us a human-centered history of the Hawaiian islands: page one is Captain Cook. Do not expect geology or prehistory here; in fact not even geography—there’s not a single map in the book, requiring me to refer to online sources frequently just to avoid getting too lost. Daws does well to narrow his focus: merely between 1778 and 1959 there’s enough material to, um, oh yeah there’s a saying about that.

A side note: can one call it a history if the author is clearly biased? I dare say there will be missionaries, bigots, politicians and businessmen who take offense at their representation here; they have my thoughts and prayers. (Isn’t that so much nicer than “bless their hearts”?) I found Daws’s tone welcome. He comes off as ethical, moral, with no patience for hypocrisy bullying racism or corruption. His biases match mine to a decent extent; and let’s face it, what history isn’t partial? Some just hide theirs, often by hiding important facts. Digs and all, I get the feeling Daws paints a fair picture.

Now to the substance: the hypocrisy, bullying, racism, corruption I mentioned fill nearly every page. And it’s not just the haoles: it seems like every featherless biped getting just the slightest bit of power ends up tainted; over and over, those appointed / elected / thrust into responsibility end up abusing their charges. It’s almost as if Lord Acton’s maxim had some truth to it.

One aspect I loved about Daws is that he’s judgmental where it’s merited, but nonjudgmental where it isn’t: he often extols native Hawaiians' kindness, tolerance, acceptance, even sexual mores—basically, everything the preacher-types deplored, Daws speaks highly or at least acceptingly of. (Again, he does not romanticize the Noble Savage: many natives come off poorly under his scrutiny. And he does twice use “loose ways” in reference to native Hawaiian womens’ sexual practices; but given the entire other context of the book, I’m going to take “loose” as a sixtiesism that did not age well.) I think I would like Daws.

I don’t often quote excerpts, and this review has grown quite long already. Tough. Here are three lines I found memorable:

Referring to missionaries circa 1830s, wanting to grow their churches but not always accepting natives as members: They [the missionaries] prided themselves on being able to detect the most cleverly concealed of doubtful motives, and very few natives managed to convince them that their sense of guilt was really satisfactory. Let that sink in a moment. And reflect on a conversation I had just five days ago, with a friend from town whose house burned down in the Cerro Grande fire. Said friend is a Unitarian, and met a fellow Unitarian at one of the post-file insurance events. “Aren’t we lucky,” her friend commented, “that we belong to a church that doesn’t make us think this was our fault?” Fuck religion. And not in a good way. (Unitarians excepted).

Referring to movements toward suffrage, freedom, electoral representation circa 1893: If American civil liberties were granted to every man at the islands, then the very men who admired liberty most would be swamped at the polls by a rabble of brown and yellow men who could have no real idea of what liberty meant. These are Daws’s words but in no way his sentiment: he is quite darkly spelling out what few at the time (or today) would utter but some unmentionables nonetheless think. His frankness here is starkly effective.

Regarding education for Japanese immigrants: Once again, then, too much Americanism appeared subversive: “We are fond of saying that the children of America, of whatever parentage, are entitled to all the education we can give them,” wrote Edward Irwin (the same man who found the flat features and short legs of the Japanese repulsive), “They’re not, of course; they’re entitled to only such an amount as we think is best for them.” Fast forward to today, dear reader, and reflect on the Washington of 2018, and weep.

TL;DR people suck. This book doesn't.