*4.2. He ali'i ka 'aina—The Land is Chief ¯*

Much of the awe which dryland systems inspire is due to their scale. At the parcel level, rainfed agricultural remains are often not conspicuous, and also lack the particular serene beauty of lo'i with flowing water and rich mud that seems inherently more attractive on a small scale. Each organization expressed how this has led to initial challenges of attracting interest and support, and have utilized a shared strategy of connecting to a landscape level scale to overcome this issue. Puanui, the oldest of the organizations, relies directly on the visible scale of the Kohala Field System as

the best preserved and most observable example, owing to the lack of plantation agriculture that destroyed traditional infrastructure in many places, and the contemporary cattle grazing that maintains visibility of the agricultural features (Figure 2). Engagement activities at Puanui include a hike up Pu'u Kehena (a cinder cone) that offers visitors a panoramic view at the vast extent of the agricultural remains blanketing the landscape. From this exceptional vantage, many truths become apparent to the observer: the vastness of the system speaks to the ancient population, the political organization needed, the ecological gradients encompassed, and the integrated socio-political features. This powerful view was a pivotal aspect to building support for the effort and continues to be a major tool of engagement and impact. Although the extent of the traditional agricultural systems is not directly observable at the other sites, each develops aspects of scale to paint a picture of ancient agriculture within a broader landscape. Mala Kalu'ulu emphasizes how the interactions of politics, ecology, and breadfruit defined ¯ the extent of the *kalu'ulu* system and describes the ancient productivity in terms of modern populations to demonstrate the scale of the development. Maluaka connects its plot to other major landscape features within its land division to elucidate how the more monumental developments near the coast were integrally connected to and supported by the agricultural developments in the uplands.

With their scale, dryland systems carry a story of political development, innovation, and complexity that may have many parallels to continued developments for Hawaiian sovereignty and self-determination today (e.g., References [81,82]). In contrast, lo'i tend to situate agriculture within the spiritual and family realm, owing to the strong connections of kalo to these aspects of Hawaiian culture and lo'i restoration has played a central role in the revival of cultural pride and practices (e.g., Kagawa-Viviani et al., this issue). The themes of scale and community food systems in the strategy of each of these organizations tends to place non-flooded agriculture within the socio-political history of the islands, emphasizing the importance of food, and in particular, the social movements powered by the vast rainfed agricultural areas. Indeed, these areas are what separated the Hawaiian archipelago from the rest of the Pacific, allowing the development of the most complex political systems [5]. The scale of rainfed systems is also what separated the young islands of Hawai'i and Maui from the rest of the archipelago, eventually powering the conquest of the archipelago by Kamehameha, a Hawai'i Island chief who was born and grew to power in the Leeward Kohala Field System, and moved to the Kona system once he achieved paramountcy in the archipelago [17]. Pulling the parallel into the present, engagement at these sites tends to raise discussion of the importance of large-scale sustainable food systems for security and self-determination of communities today.

In this way, the restoration of Hawaiian agricultural systems could be seen to parallel the larger cultural movement of the islands. Starting with lo'i, early focus of the renaissance movement focused on building internal strength and cohesiveness within the Hawaiian community, reconnecting to values and practices that were lost or hidden away. The use of kalo as a spiritual and family center was a pivotal symbol to revive the basic units of the Hawaiian social fabric. Subsequently, Hawaiian activism engaged more expansive goals, revitalizing the fight for sacred spaces locally, such as the pushback against further telescope construction on Mauna Kea Volcano [83], and sovereignty in the international arena, such as appeals to the United Nations that have formally recognized Hawai'i's status as a sovereign country under military occupation by the United States [84]. These more recent activities have coincided with the greater awareness and restoration of the large-scale dryland agricultural systems that were essential to the development of the high levels of political complexity represented by the Hawaiian Kingdom [5]. This coincidence of activities may suggest a growing resurgence of Hawaiian cultural activity beyond the individual family and community units to a broader political framework.

#### *4.3. He ma'ona moku—A Satisfaction with the Land ¯*

At all sites an emphasis is placed on place-based adaptations of Hawaiian agriculture to environmental variation and microclimates. At Maluaka, the young lava flow creates a highly diverse topographic landscape, with many localized high and low points that direct the flow of

water and the accumulation of soils; correspondingly, very high heterogeneity of infrastructure is apparent, demonstrating extreme adaptation to microhabitats and topography at a scale that, until recently, was not well documented or even widely known. At Puanui, although the infrastructure is simple and regular, engagement at the site emphasizes the adaptation of the cropping systems to the local environment and to the huge environmental gradient encompassing the three restoration sites. Similarly, at Mala Kalu'ulu, while the agroforestry system could be described as a whole, ¯ the small-scale variation of planting based on light gaps and water distribution is substantial and dynamic. Here, planting trials have demonstrated different niches for the rhizome-based crops as a function of light availability: kalo will grow only in the drip lines at the edge of the canopy of larger trees, while 'awapuhi (shampoo ginger, *Zingiber zerumbet*) will only grow under canopied areas.

The organizations here push beyond the "keystone" biocultural relationship with kalo [60] by expanding the range of crops and cropping systems and by reviving place specific knowledge and practices. This is important to the overall resilience and diversity of culture and practice, expanding the suite of biocultural couplings to strengthen the larger socioecological system of the modern Hawaiian culture. This is particularly important on Hawai'i Island, where the history of Native Hawaiians dominantly consisted of interactions with 'aina malo'o and a broad range of staple and supplementary ¯ crops. The need to recognize and revitalize that range of interaction is a critical element to the identity and practice of Hawai'i Island culture. Following 120 years of colonial occupation and often de facto banning of Hawaiian culture (e.g., banning of 'awa (*Piper methysticum*) drinking; Kagawa-Viviani et al., this issue), the mental health and well-being of Hawaiians have declined precipitously, as it has done globally for indigenous peoples (e.g., References [85–88]). Engagement with the land and agriculture, a central component to Hawaiian culture in which social and family values are encoded, is critical in restoring identity and wellbeing to Hawaiian people [89,90]. By providing a broader range of relationship between people, plants, and places, well-being follows (e.g., References [91–93]). This is particularly relevant for the many locations and individuals where the practice of lo'i agriculture does not appropriately address their genealogical connection to the land.

While Hawaiian and other indigenous place-based adaptations in resource management is often proclaimed to be exceptional [2,94–96], the more consistent practices associated with lo'i do not capture the diversity of adaptive strategies in the way that agriculture on 'aina malo'o does. This is largely ¯ a function of necessity. Lo'i systems occur in lowland valleys with flowing water that regulates multiple aspects of the cropping system—they therefore do not have to deal with the same level of spatial and temporal variation in environment that agriculture on 'aina malo'o does. The extensive ¯ loss of the detailed knowledge and practices associated rainfed systems (e.g., References [21,35,36]) requires a revival of knowledge, which, despite significant information from investigation, can only be regained through active restoration on the land.

What we now see as the archaeological infrastructure is only the remaining physical manifestation of the diverse practices and cropping systems employed within the sites. A simple comparison of the sites themselves offers a case-study of adaptation, with vastly different forms consisting of different suites of crops, temporal patterns, and practices seen (e.g., References [8,10,12,14,18,97]). One thing that has been clear in the restoration of these systems is the diverse and innovative methods for managing water. In Kohala, research has demonstrated how the long walls running perpendicular to the wind were a vital mist-trap, enhancing and concentrating soil moisture to facilitate better growing of sweet potatoes [8,14]. In Kona, highly diverse infrastructure appears adapted to the changing water situations. Infrastructure, such as cut canals to move, store, and disperse intermittent water flows [18], mounds to take advantage of areas where water pools (J. Kahoonei, pers. com.), and a host of strategies to prevent water from evaporation in lower elevations, illustrate the adaptive hydrological strategies (e.g., Reference [97]). Conversely, the restoration also highlights how much is still unknown. For instance, the striking difference in wall orientation between agricultural areas, with Leeward Kohala alignments perpendicular to the slope and wind while Kona alignments are parallel to them, has not been adequately explained.

#### *4.4. E ho'ohuli ka lima i lalo—Turn the Hands Down*

Community engagement at these sites is multifaceted but active. A "service learning" component is associated with education all the sites. For the host, it provides a vital source of labor while simultaneously driving a particular and important experience. Everyone works at these sites—be he or she world-class researchers or delinquent students, elder or child—and they work side-by-side. The action of collectively getting one's hands dirty has a substantial effect on bringing people to the same level in a way that is not easily replicated, driving informal sharing through which knowledge transfer that may otherwise be difficult can occur. Here real bi-directional learning occurs between generations and ways of knowing. Subsequently, the restoration of each site is presented in mission statements as a vehicle through which to engage and grow communities of people. These restoration efforts are not solely restoration of physical infrastructure or ecosystems, but the biocultural systems of food and culture. Each mission statement includes phrases such as "space for the community to connect" and "regenerate responsibilities," recognizing that these agricultural systems are socio-ecological landscapes that rely on the physical environment, biota, and human knowledge and practice to function correctly. Each of these organizations expressed that such relationships are difficult to teach but can be learned; educating people about a biocultural relationship through talk provides little adoption of practice but conducting activities that actively place individuals in direct contact with the environment allows the opportunity for those biocultural connections to be formed.

Although people might believe that it would be easy to restore these systems, the participants were clear about the difficulties. It is not just the physical clearing and planting of an ancient agricultural system, but it is the revival of place and history, the healing and building of relationships, and the cultivation of interaction. All of these take considerable time and commitment, influential leaders, and collaboration. It takes dedication to a cause in which importance and impact are not necessarily immediately seen. The sustained partnerships for restoration, research, and education requires working across academic and rural community partners, which is not always easy. The success of both the research and engagement hinges on positive and productive relationships. These relationships are bound by a common interest in understanding the sustainability of the respective systems in both environmental and socio-cultural terms, which must emerge from a diversity of knowledge sources.

#### *4.5. Pupukahi i holomua—Unite in Order to Progress*

The success of each effort has relied heavily on collaboration at multiple levels. Collaboration is essential between the leaders and the landowners, with the community, with scientists, and with the broader public. With many different stakeholders in each of the efforts, there exist many different lenses on the value and purpose of the restoration. Finding a way to move everyone together in a productive way is a crucial part of the process. Discussions emphasized the critical importance of trust-building between stakeholder groups. Particularly in Hawai'i where there has been a long history of science focused on a still-living culture subjected to recent (and active) traumas, there have been many conflicts between scientists and communities. The groups have different timelines, where scientists are often driven by short time frames dictated by grants and careers, while communities have a long-term perspective on value and multi-generational outcomes. Recognizing and managing the different time-scales is an integral part of the process. There have also been issues of knowledge ownership and give-back. Often scientists "mine" local knowledge that is used to guide research, and report that local knowledge directly by themselves, thereby representing a taking of community knowledge. Simultaneously many researchers do not make the time and effort to conduct strong outreach and reporting of results to the community of interest. Historically, this has represented a one-way flow of knowledge away from locations, leading to burnt bridges and an overall distrust of many scientists by local communities.

There were several common strategies employed by the organizations to overcome relationship barriers. First and foremost is addressing the past issues by forging better relationships with communities, acknowledging their knowledge as central, committing to long-term engagement, and conducting appropriate sharing of scientific knowledge back to the locales. Aiding in this is that each site has a "kanaka scholar," typically a native Hawaiian or local scientist who served as a liaison between outside researchers and communities to ensure proper acknowledgment of contributions, to translate ground-based activities and observations into academic speak, and to prioritize communicating science back to the community. These individuals also help to forge stronger relationships with researchers coming from the outside. Often this is as simple as "translation," helping people from different backgrounds and perspectives speak the same language. The quality of these relationships is directly related to perceived value on both sides; win-win activities are essential to continuing and growing relationships. At Maluaka, an active program has been developed that engages local at-risk youth in the archaeological investigations through field schools, rather than solely utilizing college archaeology majors as is often the case. This has allowed direct and indirect benefits to both the community and the archaeology. Ultimately, this is an indigenous approach that pursues multiple benefits, values, and emphasizes relationships and impact, rather than solely the science itself.

#### *4.6. He aha ka mea nui?—What Is the Most Important Thing?*

The approach by these organizations also recognizes that these systems are not just agriculture, but are deeply integrated into a more extensive, sacred, socio-ecological system that was intact until relatively recently; they represent a vital part of a living culture and embody history, religion, livelihoods, environment, and culture as a whole. Each organization attempts to recreate this aspect of a whole. The emphasis on relationships extends beyond those between people to also include relationships among people and the places, the plants, and the history. This recognizes in multiple ways the importance of interactions between people and elements of natural and social environments. At Mala Kalu'ulu, the emphasis on rights to the land based on one's inputs revives the ancient ¯ cornerstone of *kuleana*. At Puanui, each visit asks that participants introduce themselves to the place, and to envision their role in the future of the place, and at all sites engagement in protocol that grounds participants in the moment, in the place, at to each other is consistently practiced. The different strengths, yet common goals and outcomes, of the restoration efforts highlighted in this article are a testimony to the interconnected nature of the biocultural system as a whole. This is a distinctly native perspective that does not separate the daily activities from identity, values, and spirituality. The mix of knowledge sources that form the foundation of these restoration efforts each offer their opportunities and challenges, but engaging with all sources is a crucial element to the initial success of these operations.

Following the political shift with the illegal overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy [98] and subsequent ongoing military occupation by the United States [84], Hawaiian people have been drastically impacted. In virtually every socio-economic statistic measured, from education to income to domestic violence to incarceration, Hawaiian people score the lowest of all groups within their ancestral home of Hawai'i [99]. While the creation of a new socioeconomic system has benefitted many non-Hawaiian immigrants to Hawai'i, Native Hawaiians have constantly struggled for rights and opportunities. By reviving Hawaiian relationships with the land, with their history, and with each other, significant gains have been made in the education, pride, and organization of the Hawaiian people [90]. In our experience, lo'i cultivation has had a critical impact on reconnecting people to the land, revitalizing ancestral responsibilities, and generating awareness of Hawaiian accomplishments and excellence prior to being displaced. This has strengthened a desire to return to traditional knowledge and epistemology to support and maintain Hawaiian communities, practices, and land stewardship. Furthermore, the expansion of restoration from lo'i systems of agriculture to systems on 'aina malo'o appears to parallel larger shifts in the Hawaiian community that seek to increase ¯ self-sufficiency, expand land stewardship, and increase activity in the realms of policy and activism. Each organization inadvertently, perhaps unconsciously, contributes to these movements by sharing the extent of historical scale and political power associated with the vast agricultural developments on

Hawai'i Island. To see and hear of the complexity and sophistication of the Hawaiian society in the past simultaneously emphases to some participants what was lost.

#### **5. Conclusions**

Even though non-flooded agriculture was, in ancient times, much more widespread and likely more important than lo'i, today lo'i restoration outweighs restoration of agriculture on 'aina malo'o. ¯ Restoration of 'aina malo'o agriculture by several organizations on Hawai'i Island has important ¯ biocultural consequences, particularly when compared to the more widespread restoration of lo'i. The use of highly interdisciplinary work to triangulate a more complete understanding of the social and physical aspects of the systems is crucial, particularly where knowledge systems have been severely eroded. This triangulation includes scientific investigation, use of historical resources, effectively tapping into local ecological knowledge, and conducting practical, experiential learning through active practice. This approach requires strong relationships and appropriate engagement with the community and culture at all levels; it is essential to building the complex relationships that make these efforts work. Only through strong engagement and mutual respect have these efforts been made possible and successful, and their success is often facilitated by someone with a foot in both Western and indigenous worlds. Organizations must leverage their strengths in this process and situate their connections in an appropriate socio-cultural role. This may require creative framing, such as how these organizations found ways to connect to the large scale of the systems even if the specific restoration plots are small. These essential aspects support previous example and case studies within the field of biocultural restoration.

Biocultural restoration of agriculture on 'aina malo'o highlights the oversimplification in the ¯ treatment of ancient Hawaiian agriculture by the dominant narratives told largely in the fields of archaeology and anthropology and perhaps too readily adopted culturally. In particular, there is a very high level of diversity of form of traditional agriculture on 'aina malo'o, and it cannot ¯ appropriately be lumped into "rainfed agriculture" as it has previously. High levels of place-specific knowledge are being uncovered through interdisciplinary and multi-epistemological restoration teams. Understanding agriculture on 'aina malo'o broadens the scope of biocultural relationships by ¯ engaging a more significant range of crops and therefore assortment of associated practices. Finally, agriculture on 'aina malo'o grounds itself in the scale and scope of the younger islands, and in the ¯ political processes that the vast agricultural areas powered prior to European arrival. We suggest that underlying socioecological functions that underpin agricultural types differ substantially, with lo'i and kalo focusing on family and spirituality, while agriculture on 'aina malo'o with its range of crops and ¯ systems emphasizing socio-political complexity. These same biocultural themes could parallel larger movements within the revitalization of Hawaiian culture.

**Author Contributions:** Conceptualization, N.L.; Methodology, N.L. and J.R.; Formal Analysis, N.L.; Investigation, N.L., J.R., J.K., K.M. (Kehaulani Marshall), K.K., M.P., D.S., P.V., and K.M. (Kamuela Meheula); Resources, N.L.; Data Curation, N.L.; Writing—Original Draft Preparation, N.L. and J.R.; Writing—Review and Editing, N.L., P.V., J.R., and D.S.; Visualization, N.L.; Supervision, N.L., J.R., and P.V.; Project Administration, N.L.

**Funding:** Maluaka and Puanui were funded by Kamehameha Schools. Manuscript preparation was supported in part, by Hawai'i Community College, a seed grant from the University of Hawai'i at Hilo, and the USDA National Institute of Food and Agriculture, Hatch project HAW08035 administered by the College of Tropical Agriculture and Human Resources.

**Acknowledgments:** We acknowledge the many individuals who contributed to the organizations engaged, and who provided input to this paper. Contributors who were not co-authors include Aurora Kagawa-Viviani, Natalie Kurashima, Leon No'eau Peralto, and Anissa Lucerno. ¯

**Conflicts of Interest:** The authors declare no conflict of interest. The funders had no role in the design of the study; in the collection, analysis, or interpretation of the date/in the writing of the manuscript, or in the decision to publish the results.
