Hostname: page-component-68c7f8b79f-xc2tv Total loading time: 0 Render date: 2025-12-18T12:03:56.908Z Has data issue: false hasContentIssue false

“Where have the sand turtles gone?”: A Waimānalo orientation to plastics research

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  21 November 2025

Johanna Kapōmaikaʻi Stone
Affiliation:
Kawaihuelani, University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa, Honolulu, HI, USA
Astrid E. Delorme*
Affiliation:
Research and Technology Development Unit, Ifremer , Plouzane, France Center for Marine Debris Research, Hawaiʻi Pacific University, Honolulu, HI, USA The Ocean Cleanup , Rotterdam, Netherlands
Kimeona Kāne
Affiliation:
He pulapula o Waimānalo, Koʻolaupoko, Honolulu, HI, USA
Rufino Varea
Affiliation:
Office of the Secretariat, Pacific Islands Climate Action Network, Suva, Fiji
Ethan Chang
Affiliation:
College of Education, University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa, Honolulu, HI, USA
Waimānalo
Affiliation:
Waimānalo, Koʻolaupoko, Honolulu, HI, USA
*
Corresponding author: Astrid E. Delorme; Email: a.delorme@theoceancleanup.com
Rights & Permissions [Opens in a new window]

Abstract

This perspective article invites readers to (re)imagine research as a means of practicing right relations with the places we inhabit and descend from. We anchor our work in a Kanaka Hawaiʻi, a Native Hawaiian cosmogeny and epistemology, one that recognizes all life as kin. We begin with the central question, “Where have the sand turtles gone?” to explore how a Kanaka Hawaiʻi-informed perspective, grounded in the genealogical creation chant, ke Kumulipo, can guide plastics research in Hawaiʻi. We elaborate this perspective through a moʻolelo, a story of a collaboration between a Kanaka Hawaiʻi cultural practitioner and a French and Swedish plastics researcher along the shores of Kapua, Waimānalo. By tracing the transformation of a conventional scientific study, we aim to grow entry points for research that is accountable to the place and the genealogical descendants of those specific lands, who have inherited the privilege and responsibility to steward them. We conclude by discussing how this perspective might offer critical insights for global environmental policy, such as the UN Plastic Treaty, urging a shift from treating Indigenous Peoples as stakeholders to honoring them as rights-holders. Ultimately, this work is a call to research in ways that honor the original peoples of the places where we are blessed to live, work, and research, particularly in ways that amplify the knowledge traditions and lifeways birthed from those specific lands. We write this piece for and with Waimānalo as a living, reciprocal co-author. We hope the experiences shared here return to and strengthen those places and people.

Information

Type
Perspective
Creative Commons
Creative Common License - CCCreative Common License - BY
This is an Open Access article, distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution licence (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0), which permits unrestricted re-use, distribution and reproduction, provided the original article is properly cited.
Copyright
© The Author(s), 2025. Published by Cambridge University Press

Impact statement

This perspective article invites researchers to shift how plastics research is imagined and enacted – namely, from treating shorelines as lifeless sites of inquiry, and instead, as places foundational for life, with abundance, histories and ancestral lifeways sustained by descendants of those who call such places home. Grounded in ke Kumulipo (a Hawaiian genealogical creation chant) and the moʻolelo of Waimānalo, the paper models a descendant-informed way of working. One that privileges humble, reverent relation, traditional and linguistic practices specific to place, the insights and priorities of those who care for the lands, seas, and skies that researchers might have the privilege to access. This means changing what counts as legitimate research beginning with an ethical (re)orientation to scientific inquiry that begins with invitation, ends in (co)cultivation of community-accountable outcomes, that is defined at each stage by informed, lineal descendants of a particular place, along with their invited, aspiring allies. These shifts would cultivate immediate and durable solutions – in our case, cleaner beaches and ancestrally guided ways of doing plastics scholarship that remembers and recovers what it means to be in right relation with lands and waters of Waimānalo.

No ka ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi Footnote 1

In this paper, we privilege ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi as a foundation and repository of knowledge specific to the lands, waters and skies of Hawaiʻi. Privileging ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi answers to a place that allows us to exist, engage and receive nourishment in the process of crafting these very words. This politics of privileging ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi is not an exclusion, but rather a radical act of inclusion. Consider this an invitation to further competency, uplift, amplify and privilege the original languages of all places as a means of building and deepening right relations with descendants and aspiring allies of our places.

We also enact a politics of privilege alongside our efforts to afford broad access by providing glosses at the end of each page. Once a word is glossed, it may not be glossed again. We provide the most relevant glossed meaning for our conversation and include resources to invite further relationships with a specific term or concept. It is due to the resilience, strength and foresight of Kanaka Hawaiʻi that we have access to this profound and intimate wisdom today. What Kanaka Hawaiʻi ancestors have seeded through these lifeways since antiquity, we strive to perpetuate through our glosses. We invite you to consider each word used as an intentional, generous invitation and an act of radical inclusion. Ua lehulehu a manomano ka ʻikena a ka Hawaiʻi.Footnote 2

Kakaʻa kamaliʻi, heʻe puʻeone Footnote 3

Nestled beneath the surface of the fine-grained sandy shoreline of Kapua in Waimānalo (Sterling and Summers, Reference Sterling and Summers1978) reside the Peʻeone.Footnote 4 Peʻeone are marbled mole crabs, no larger than a few inches, whose smooth oval shells resemble the shell of a honu.Footnote 5 LawaiʻaFootnote 6 consider the Peʻeone a valued bait for catching pāpio,Footnote 7 moiFootnote 8 and ʻōʻio.Footnote 9 In ke Kumulipo, a Hawaiian genealogical creation chant that expresses the interdependent relationality and cooperative, complimentary nature of all living beings, Peʻeone are members of the earth – diggers, mounders and aerators. Thus, connecting a great chain of relatives. However, in recent years, the Peʻeone have disappeared. These once-abundant creatures can no longer be found as easily in the sand of the kahakaiFootnote 10; an absence that calls into question the well-being of all living relatives in the web of creation. As van Dooren might argue, the loss of Peʻeone does not only represent the loss of a single species, but the loss of ancestors, and with them, the loss of entire worlds of cultural practice, spiritual connection and ways of knowing and being intertwined with ʻāinaFootnote 11 as a source of life (van Dooren, Reference van Dooren2022).

A number of researchers gesture toward one toxic material potentially correlated with the decline of Peʻeone: plastics. In her field research on plastics settling on Hawaiʻi shores, Delorme et al. (Reference Delorme, Poirion, Lebreton, le Gac, Kāne and Royer2025) found that 91% of plastics were buried below the surface layer. These plastics occupy the very same habitat as the Peʻeone and are often hidden beneath the surface and under-examined in existing plastics research (Delorme et al., Reference Delorme, Poirion, Lebreton, le Gac, Kāne and Royer2025). In 2022–2024, plastics researcher, Astrid E. Delorme, came to Kapua with metrics, systematic excavation tools and an intent to document buried plastics in an effort to improve global pollution models and produce scientific findings to guide further interventions to ocean plastic pollution. Yet, as we discuss in this perspectives paper, the living history of Kapua, perpetuated and told through a Kanaka Hawaiʻi descendent and ‘āina steward of this place, ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne, offered a much-needed ethical (re)grounding for conducting research. Rather than inquire into an analysis of plastics, then, we adopt a line of inquiry that ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne invited by asking: Where have the sand turtles gone?

This perspective piece elaborates a joint moʻoleloFootnote 12 as woven through ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne’s generous invitation to teach about his home and Delorme’s openness to listen and reconsider her conventional approach to plastics inquiry. We recount this moʻolelo as one way to speak toward a broader ethical imperative of conducting research that honors the intimate histories of a place by first privileging descendent-led relations and understandings of a specific place, in our case, ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne’s lifelong devotion to caring for Waimānalo. We also discuss how attention to creation histories of a place, such as ke Kumulipo, invites a Kanaka Hawaiʻi-based (re)framing of research that inverts a deficit-based attention to plastics accumulation in favor of an asset-based attention to the webs of living relations researchers might work to contribute to. We conclude by discussing insights and lessons emanating from this critical, and ongoing relationship between ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne and Delorme, and how this example offers one expression of descendant-informed research that expresses responsibilities to regeneration of places, including all living beings – even those small and hidden, like the Peʻeone.

We begin by introducing ourselves to honor our distinctive social locations and positionalities entering this work (Jones and Jenkins, Reference Jones, Jenkins, Denzin, Lincoln and Smith2008; Burgess et al., Reference Burgess, Cormack and Reid2021). As Jones and Jenkins (Reference Jones, Jenkins, Denzin, Lincoln and Smith2008) articulates, writing as a “we” particularly across distinctive Native-settler collaborations represents an “always already contested and risky territory” (p. 483). The following statements strive to honor tensions imbued in any use of “we” even as we write with care for one another and ever-deepening intimacies to engage in this necessarily shared, yet distinctively positioned work (Fukumitsu et al., Reference Fukumitsu, Kāne, Chang, Rajala, Cortez, Hofmann, Jornet, Lotz-Sisitka and Markauskaite2025).

Johanna Kapōmaikaʻi Stone: We descend from the headwaters of Kailua, Koʻolaupoko, Oʻahu. I guide us in the reclamation of our ancestral languages as a powerful pathway to remembering self and right relationship with each other and place. This relationship is founded upon ʻāina as our greatest chief, teacher and elder. I am a student of, and advocate for the reestablishment of our original food systems as a potent pathway to heal both our inner and outer climates. As a 2024 recipient of the Presidential Award for Meritorious Teaching, 2025 will be my tenth year in service through teaching Hawaiian language at University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa.

Astrid E. Delorme: I am a French and Swedish Researcher and an aspiring ally. I am trained in Green and Sustainable Chemistry, and my research focuses on intervention strategies for plastics. I understand my kuleana as listening, learning, and using my positionality in relation to academia and scientific plastic debates to challenge extractive logics and amplify descendant-led perspectives. I am a student of ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi and ʻāina.

Kimeona Kāne: I am a cultural and lineal descendant of Waimānalo, Koʻolaupoko, Oʻahu. I am a community advocate, a haumānaFootnote 13 of Kumu Kinohi Fukumitsu in Uhau Humu Pōhaku,Footnote 14 a speaker of ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi and a kauwāFootnote 15 to ʻāina. My kuleana is to speak for and care for my home of Waimānalo and to share its stories and knowledge with those who approach with humility.

Rufino Varea: I am an Indigenous Scientist from Fiji and a Marine Ecotoxicologist. My work bridges the natural sciences with Indigenous worldviews to inform policy that addresses marine pollution. My kuleana is to bring a broader Moana perspective to this Hawaiʻi-grounded work, ensuring our conversation contributes to regional and global efforts for justice.

Ethan Chang: I am a Hawaiʻi Asian of Japanese and Chinese descent born and raised in Kailua, Koʻolaupoko on Oʻahu. As a haumāna of ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne and community-based education researcher, I have chosen to join in projects that strive to answer to the people and places that formal institutions of learning have historically failed to serve. I am also a student of ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi and ʻāina.

Waimānalo: Inspired by ʻĀina of Kaʻōnohi et al. (Reference Deluze, Enos, Mossman, Gunasekera, Espiritu, Jay, Jackson, Connelly, Han, Giardina, McMillen and Meyer2023), we choose to honor Waimānalo as a co-author as not only a “site” of transformation but as a living presence whose teachings directly spark transformative shifts in scientific perspectives included in this project, and beyond. We write with Waimānalo as an active teacher and a source from which this knowledge continues to emerge.

In 2022, Delorme arrived in Hawaiʻi as a visiting researcher studying buried plastics at Kapua, Waimānalo. Through efforts to steward ‘āina and deepened invitations to aloha ‘āina offered by ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne, Delorme came into relation with Stone and Chang, who are haumāna of uhau humu pōhaku under ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne. Shared conversations on and with ‘āina led to joint interests in thinking through, and ultimately, writing this paper. Varea’s expertise on plastics and advocacy at national and international scales of plastics conversations infused added precision to our work and deepened ties between our Waimānalo-specific work and broader Moana Nui imperatives. Our contributions to this paper thus represent, as Alfred eloquently articulates, an attempt to write “from within change”; that is, “with the plain intent of instigating further contention” in ways that reverberate beyond our daily efforts to love and steward our places (Alfred, Reference Alfred2005). A change we hope to be accountable to Waimānalo and our people.

In determining authorship order, we heeded the guidance of Liboiron et al. (Reference Liboiron, Ammendolia, Winsor, Zahara, Bradshaw, Melvin, Mather, Dawe, Wells, Liboiron, Fürst, Coyle, Saturno, Novacefski, Westscott and Liboiron2017) which emphasizes authorship decisions rooted in accountability, workload and issues of equity. As Liboiron et al. (Reference Liboiron, Ammendolia, Winsor, Zahara, Bradshaw, Melvin, Mather, Dawe, Wells, Liboiron, Fürst, Coyle, Saturno, Novacefski, Westscott and Liboiron2017) state, “rather than attempt to circumvent author order, we stay with the trouble.” By adopting this perspective, we acknowledge the challenges within the dominant scientific system while working toward greater fairness in the way contributions are recognized (Liboiron et al., Reference Liboiron, Ammendolia, Winsor, Zahara, Bradshaw, Melvin, Mather, Dawe, Wells, Liboiron, Fürst, Coyle, Saturno, Novacefski, Westscott and Liboiron2017). In this same vein, we recognize the many unnamed authors whose insights and contributions guided us: kūpuna, wahi, and stewards in and beyond Hawaiʻi who continually devote for a more thriving and sustainable plastics-free world. We write this work with and for Waimānalo, and for each of us, waging struggles in our distinctive places, for an abundant future guided by the teachings of sustainable pasts.

He kānaka, he pōkiʻi Footnote 16 : Notes on a kanaka Hawaiʻi-informed approach to research

When ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne asked, “Where have the sand turtles gone?” he breathed life into a Kanaka Hawaiʻi-informed approach to inquiry. Such an approach is grounded in ancestral teachings, a number of which are imbued in ke Kumulipo, a koʻihonua, or creation history documenting the meteorological, geological, celestial and oceanic evolutionary process that shaped and gave birth to the ecosystems that sustain life today.Footnote 17 Significantly, ke Kumulipo details the world’s birth order, from the eldest to the youngest (Table 1). The coral polyp, which provides oxygen for all, is the firstborn. Humans are the youngest. Humans depend on the rest of creation for sustenance. These relationships are not merely symbiotic or reciprocal; they are familial (Trask, Reference Trask1999). Ke Kumulipo thus embodies our teachings of kinship in ornate, archaic, poetic form.

Table 1. Excerpt of He Mele no ke Kumulipo, Wā ʻEhā (with English translations provided by Liliʻuokalani (Reference Liliʻuokalani1897) and supplemented by Johanna Kapōmaikaʻi Stone)

Inspired by the articulations of our Turtle Island relations (Ausubel, Reference Ausubel2008; Nelson, Reference Nelson2008), framing our ancestral teachings as “original instructions,” these teachings are found in our histories, poetry, chant, song, prayers and dance. The histories of our ancestral places, our native lands, are important frameworks of value sets and behaviors (Poepoe, Reference Poepoe1906) that enable us to uphold the balance of the perpetual cycles of creation. This firmly ground us upon a foundation of our place-based kinship teachings that enable us to thrive and stand strong – hand in hand with each other. These kinship teachings outline for us our positionality as humans in our environment. These teachings, as ke Kumulipo does below, detail for us our inherent, humble dependence all the elder beings around us, along with our familial relation to all the beings of our ecosystems, and our ecosystems themselves (Kalimahauna, Reference Kalimahauna1962a, Reference Kalimahauna1962b). Thus, when we stand firm upon these foundational teachings, we are able to be the sustenance of our place (Kahalemaile, Reference Kahalemaile and Kahalemaile1871), and reciprocate that which also sustains us. In this way we clearly see that all blessings are reciprocal, and all flourishing is mutual (Kimmerer and Burgoyne, Reference Kimmerer and Burgoyne2024). Thus, it is of the utmost importance for us to reimplement the compass of our original instructions, our ancestral knowledge systems, so that we are informed and equipped with the time-tested behaviors appropriate for our place, so that we are indeed positively contributing members to our ecosystems and thus sustaining that which sustains us. These are ways to embody our role as the youngest siblings to the rest of creation, as outlined for us below, in ke Kumulipo.

Recognizing our position as the youngest descendants, we humbly and reverently acknowledge our radical dependence on our elders, who take the form of mountains, flyers, crawlers, four-leggeds, swimming ones, coral, wind, rain – and, as illustrated below, Peʻeone.

In the selected excerpt above, we see the sand realm, the realm of the crawlers. We see each crawler being born, and each having a counterpart that acts as a guardian. The crawlers are bio-indicators that offer insight into the broader health (or suffering) of all beings. The birth order in these lines identifies who feeds who. Humans do not yet enter this realm: “O ke Akua ke komo, ʻaʻoʻe komo kānaka.” Thus, humans are entirely fed, nourished and dependent on the vitality of the one realm, the sand column. This excerpt of ke Kumulipo reminds kanaka of our elders, including those who may be overlooked, undervalued, or altogether forgotten. However, this space is a foundation for our ecosystems.

By asking about Peʻeone, ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne named what was otherwise huna and invited Delorme to contend with how tools from outside might exist with/in a Kanaka Hawaiʻi epistemological and ontological paradigm. As we detail in the following section, insights about our interconnectivity imbued in ke Kumulipo cannot be read or studied in isolation. The substantive teachings about kin relations imbued in ke Kumulipo are learned through those very relations. The following depicts a coming into relation between ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne and Delorme, and how, through ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne’s guidance, Delorme attempted to bring her European-trained approaches to plastics inquiry into more responsible alignment with ancestral knowledge teachings, such as that found in ke Kumulipo. By illustrating this moʻolelo in concrete terms, we aim to spark curiosities and possibilities for other researchers and stewards seeking to contribute to abundant solutions.

Coming into right relation: A Moʻolelo of researcher humility and descendant leadership

In 2018, ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne felt a pull to change his professional career when an organization, 808 Cleanups, entered his beloved home community of Waimānalo, Koʻolaupoko to clean plastics and other debris accumulating along Waimānalo’s shores. Ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne recounted, “I was so embarrassed that someone from outside our community had to come in and clean it” (Budiono, Reference Budiono2022). Caring for Waimānalo, however, was never a professional job but always a matter of personal responsibility learned and lived into since ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne was a child. 808 Cleanups promptly recruited ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne to deepen how their organization honors and perpetuates Kanaka Hawaiʻi cultural practices through active, voluntary restoration efforts. Serving as the Director of Community Outreach of 808 Cleanups simultaneously opened greater latitude for ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne to deepen parallel, extra-institutional efforts to teach uhau humu pōhaku to anyone willing and devoted to consistent restoration of themselves and ‘āina.

In 2022, Delorme began a field study that investigated the “end-of-life” and legacy plastics carried to the shores of Hawai‘i by ocean currents. Her study included the shores of Kapua in Waimānalo and focused on the vertical distribution of these plastics in the sand column. She found that 91% of the recovered plastic particles were buried below the surface. Delorme’s study involved systematic excavation and sampling at various depth intervals in the sand column (down to 1 m) and documented the abundance, size and burial depth of plastics aimed at improving global pollution models and guiding more effective intervention strategies. But the initial study did not involve the community of Waimānalo – including those connected to Kapua – particularly in relation to deciding what is important to research, designing appropriate methods, or informing the analysis and implications of empirical findings.

As a part of Delorme’s work and eventually her moving to Waimānalo, she wanted to find ways to actively contribute to the places where she now resided and studied. Delorme joined the 808 Cleanups in Waimānalo led by ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne, which did not just involve beach cleanups, but also removing invasive Buffalo grass, planting native Naupaka Kahakai, listening to mo’olelo of Waimānalo – deepening Delorme’s understanding of Waimānalo and aloha ‘āina. As their pilinaFootnote 18 deepened, Delorme shared more of her analyses with ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne. It was through sustained time together caring for Waimānalo that, on one occasion, ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne asked, “Where are the sand turtles?” He reflected on the abundance of Peʻeone on the shores of Waimānalo he caught as a child and wondered whether plastics now settled into and evicted the Peʻeone from their homes. “What did this mean for the webs of ancestral relations depending on Peʻeone?” ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne asked.

Ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne’s inquiry did not begin with plastics, but rather, with ke Kumulipo. “Who is this plastic pollution disturbing?” pointed toward a living universe of beings that Delorme previously interpreted as simply a vast, empty, lifeless sandy repository for plastics. Ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne began with relationships, continuity and abundant life – a worldview that insisted on kinship relations and responsibilities to one another. Delorme’s inquiry began with “objective” science – seeking to isolate plastic particles from the sand column and examine them as indicators of environmental loss, degradation, and scarcity. Ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne’s began with childhood memories that fueled lifelong responsibilities to care for the very places in which my data collection took place.

Over time, Delorme realized her plastics research mirrored other excavations just next to Kapua at Hūnānāniho that ignored deeper histories. At Bellows Air Force Station in Hūnānāniho, military operations seek to locate and disarm unexploded ammunition left by the U.S. military. In their efforts to rectify these hazardous weapons, the military also uncovered iwiFootnote 19 kūpuna. Such events highlight a profound double-bind created by U.S. occupation and militarization of Hawaiʻi: a need to clean the ʻāina of unexploded ordinances for public safety and a need to respect the right of iwi kūpuna to remain huna. Ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne is one of several stewards in Waimānalo who the military contacts to engage in ceremonial protocols and ensure the iwi kūpuna are handled with care. But as Ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne explained to Delorme, these well-intentioned efforts to remove unexploded ordinances interrupt the capacities of Kanaka Hawaiʻi to remain on ʻāina even after transitioning into Pō.Footnote 20

As Delorme reflected on the U.S. military’s role in excavating unexploded ordinances at Hūnānāniho, she recognized how her own practices of digging for plastics represented a similar disregard for the sacredness of Kapua. Both the military and Delorme focused primarily on immediate goals; activities that erased a long fetch of history shaping life at Hūnānāniho and Kapua, as well as the living, interdependent beings buried in the sands expressed by ke Kumulipo. Despite Delorme’s good intentions, she was adding to the potential harms and burdens of cultural practitioners like ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne, who held the kuleana to care for Hūnānāniho and Kapua, both of which are in Waimānalo.

Shared time with and teachings of ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne provided Delorme with a way of doing more ethical plastics scholarship. Delorme chose to rethink my approach to inquiry as guided by knowledge keepers like ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne, the teachings of ke Kumulipo, as well as the offerings of Kanaka Hawaiʻi scholars and methodologies (Oliveira and Wright, Reference Oliveira and Wright2016). Even as such an approach did not dismiss the offerings of Western tools – seeking only to embed empirical offerings within much longer histories of creation and more expansive ontological teachings of life and living – I was repeatedly met with the question: “Where is the science?” We chose to author this piece together as one means of naming and addressing these barriers in an effort to support future plastics researchers seeking to engage in a more honest reckoning with the often sordid, continuing colonial histories of place and seeking to reconcile these histories of harm through responsible relations with Kanaka Hawaiʻi knowledge keepers.

Discussion: Humble insights and implications from Kapua to continued scholarship and a global plastics treaty

We offer this story of Kāne and Delorme to unearth the structures that often keep us trapped in cycles of harm and reproduce what might be called, “faux solutions.” Well-meaning individuals like Delorme can, at times, carry currents of inherited saviorism, arrogance, and implicit assumptions of the superiority of a Euro-centric, materialist worldview – one that has contributed to the very problems they now seek to solve. Breaking this cycle of harm requires a foundational shift: a return to research that is relational, restorative, descendant-informed (in this case, Kanaka Hawaiʻi-informed), and grounded in the wisdom and insights of ancestral knowledge systems, such as those found in ke Kumulipo. If we expect our science to cultivate action and to seed sustainable transformations that unsettle the political machinery of plastic production, we require a wider ‘upenaFootnote 21 of intimacies – and broader coalition of activated communities within and beyond academia – for doing this (Osorio, Reference Osorio2021).

One way of circumnavigating faux solutions is through descendent-informed scholarship. By this, we mean an approach that begins by asking: “Who is the plastic disturbing?” Such a question surfaces relationships, continuities and accountabilities that are often rendered invisible when starting from an “objective” position – such as centering plastic rather than kinship. It requires researchers to step with humility, to prioritize listening to people of place whose genealogies, practices, and kuleana are intertwined with that ʻāina, and to center their knowledge and moʻolelo as guiding. In Kapua, this meant foregrounding the knowledge held in the one – the stories of Peʻeone, the protection ke Kumulipo calls for, and the kuleana that comes with it. Descendant-informed research – and the interventions it guides – is more accountable to place and people, and better positioned to sustain the abundance ke Kumulipo calls us to protect.

When Delorme first approached ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne’s workdays in Waimānalo, she did not arrive as a scientist imposing research questions but as a learner seeking to listen. It was through the offerings ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne provided that she was able to move in right relation through deepened ethical responsibilities to place, sharpened research questions, and a more holistic acknowledgement concerning the many ecologies of life and livelihoods at stake. In a descendant-informed approach, it is only research if such work is invited and contributory as deemed by those who descend from and steward the very places researchers might have the privilege to access. In this way, researchers’ methodologies might take guidance from descendants like ke Kumu Kimeona Kāne of Waimānalo, to align and inform their work in service of specific places and pressing community concerns. Such an approach animates the ‘ōlelo noʻeau; I ka wā ma mua, i ka wā ma hopeFootnote 22; a proverb that enlists each of us to build sustainable futures by (re)turning to lessons of the past. As Beamer et al. (Reference Beamer, Elkington, Souza, Tuma, Thorenz, Köhler, Kukea-Shultz, Kotubetey and Winter2023) similarly put it in efforts to address our current, plastics-dependent and extractivist economy: “A future circular economy is possible because Hawaiʻi has already demonstrated the existence of an ancestral circular economy within the global market economy is possible” (Beamer et al., Reference Beamer, Elkington, Souza, Tuma, Thorenz, Köhler, Kukea-Shultz, Kotubetey and Winter2023).

Native communities, who steward relational knowledge and descendant informed practices, also offer essential solutions to the Plastic Pollution crisis. However, Native communities are systematically sidelined in the UN Plastic Treaty negotiations (International Indigenous Peoples’ Forum on Plastics, 2024). To offer one example, a critical oversight in current negotiations is the relegation of Indigenous Peoples to the role of “stakeholders,” rather than “right-holders” (UN General Assembly, 2007; International Indigenous Peoples’ Forum on Plastics, 2024). As the International Indigenous Forum on Plastics stated in the final Plenary at the UN Plastic Treaty negotiations (INC-5.1, Busan):

“Decisions are being made about our lands, waters, knowledge, and futures without us at the table. Indigenous peoples are not stakeholders. We are rights holders and knowledge holders and critical partners in the fight against plastic. To exclude us is to undermine the very foundations of this treaty’s legitimacy”

(Society of Native Nations on behalf of the International Indigenous Peoples’ Forum on Plastics, 2024).

Descendent-informed research offers one way that plastics scholars might position themselves in service of Native leaders and cultural knowledge-keepers. If invited to share in relations of knowing and being, such work offers one way to match actions with the rhetoric and intent of honoring Indigenous peoples as “rights holders.” We write in service of furthering this critical work, in pursuit of more responsible, regenerative science, in service of Native peoples as rights holders, and in a spirit of unrelenting love and aloha for Peʻeone. As stewards of place, we invite readers and all those ready to join us as servants to ʻāina, on ʻāina, through our distinctive and collective restorative efforts (Stone, Reference Stone2022).

Open peer review

To view the open peer review materials for this article, please visit http://doi.org/10.1017/plc.2025.10033.

Data availability statement

No datasets were generated or analyzed for this study.

Acknowledgements

A.E.D. acknowledges that STORAGE is endorsed as “No. 93.2. PlaSTic On beaches: 3D-distRibution and weathering” as part of the UN Decade of Ocean Science for Sustainable Development 2021-2030 and is attached to the Ocean Decade Programme “15. Early Career Ocean Professionals (ECOPs). We would like to acknowledge Emeritus Professor of International Law and Indigenous Human Rights, Maivân Clech Lâm, and David Maslow for their many patient discussions.

Author contribution

All authors: J.K.S., A.E.D., K.K., R.V., E.C., W.W., contributed to the Conceptualization, Formal analysis, Methodology, Investigation, Resources, Writing – original draft.

Financial support

This work was carried out under the Marie Sklodowska-Curie project STORAGE, which A.E. D. has received funding from the European Union’s Horizon Europe research and innovation program under the Marie Sklodowska-Curie grant agreement No 101061749.

Competing interests

The authors declare that this research was conducted independently, without any commercial or financial relationships that could be construed as a potential conflict of interest. The Marie Sklodowska-Curie project was received with no vested interest, and the views expressed in this paper are solely the author’s own. These views do not reflect, nor are they intended to serve or disadvantage, the institutional hosts of this project.

Footnotes

1 no ka ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi: “pertaining to the Hawaiian language.” Translation provided by author, JKS.

2 Ua lehulehu a manomano ka ʻikena a ka Hawaiʻi: Great and numerous is the knowledge of the Hawaiians. Proverb #2814 (Pukui, Reference Pukui1983).

3 Kakaʻa kamaliʻi, heʻe puʻeone: Children roll about, slide upon sand dunes. Translation provided by author, JKS.

4 Peʻeone: n. Sand crab that buries itself backwards in wet sand (Hippa pacifica). Lit., sand hiding (Pukui and Elbert, Reference Pukui and Elbert1986).

5 honu: turtle. Translation provided by author KK, JKS.

6 lawaiʻa: nvi. Fisherman; fishing technique; to fish, to catch fish (Pukui and Elbert, Reference Pukui and Elbert1986).

7 pāpio: juvenile ulua (trevally). Translation provided by author, JKS.

8 moi: threadfish (Polydactylus sexfilis), (Pukui and Elbert, Reference Pukui and Elbert1986).

9 ʻōʻio: bonefish (Albula vulpes), (Pukui and Elbert, Reference Pukui and Elbert1986).

10 kahakai: loc.n. Beach, seashore, seacoast, seaside strand (Pukui and Elbert, Reference Pukui and Elbert1986).

11 ‘āina: Inhabited place. Translation provided by author JKS.

12 moʻolelo: n. Story, tale, history (Pukui and Elbert, Reference Pukui and Elbert1986).

13 Student, translated by JKS, KK.

14 rock weaving, translated by JKS, KK.

15 Servant, translated by JKS, KK.

16 he kanaka, he pōkiʻi: “a human, a younger sibling / cousin”, translation supplemented by author, JKS (Liliʻuokalani, Reference Liliʻuokalani1897).

17 While ke Kumulipo may very well have been strategically used by King Kalākaua to establish legitimacy to his lineage as one fit to rule our nation, we assert, it is nonetheless a set of powerful, kinship teachings guiding us from the profound depths of our ancestral knowledge systems, into right relation with the rest of creation, that we choose to employ as foundational to our scholarship and reestablishing of original lifeways.

18 pilina: n. Association, relationship, union, connection, meeting, joining, adhering, fitting (Pukui and Elbert, Reference Pukui and Elbert1986).

19 iwi: Bone; The bones of the dead, considered the most cherished possession, were hidden, and hence there are many figurative expressions with iwi meaning life (Pukui and Elbert, Reference Pukui and Elbert1986).

20 Pō: Night, darkness, obscurity; the realm of the gods; pertaining to or of the gods, chaos, or hell; dark, obscure, benighted; formerly the period of 24 hours beginning with nightfall (the Hawaiian “day” began at nightfall, cf. ao 1.), (Pukui and Elbert, Reference Pukui and Elbert1986).

21 ‘upena: Fishing net, net, web (Pukui and Elbert, Reference Pukui and Elbert1986).

22 I ka wā ma mua, i ka wā ma hope: Through the past is the future (Kurashima et al., Reference Kurashima, Jeremiah and Ticktin2017).

References

ʻĀina of Kaʻōnohi, Deluze, AK, Enos, K, Mossman, K, Gunasekera, I, Espiritu, D, Jay, C, Jackson, P, Connelly, S, Han, MH, Giardina, CP, McMillen, H, Meyer, MA (2023) Urban ʻĀina: An indigenous, biocultural pathway to transforming urban spaces. Sustainability 15(13), 9937. https://doi.org/10.3390/su15139937.Google Scholar
Alfred, T (2005) Wasáse: Indigenous Pathways of Action and Freedom. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.Google Scholar
Ausubel, K (2008) Remembering the Original Instructions. In Original Instructions: Indigenous Teachings for a Sustainable Future. Rochester, Vermont: Bear and Company.Google Scholar
Beamer, K, Elkington, K, Souza, P, Tuma, A, Thorenz, A, Köhler, S, Kukea-Shultz, K, Kotubetey, K and Winter, KB (2023) Island and indigenous systems of circularity: How Hawaiʻi can inform the development of universal circular economy policy goals. Ecology and Society 28(1), 437456. https://doi.org/10.5751/ES-13656-280109.Google Scholar
Budiono, V (2022) 808 Cleanups shares the concept of aloha ʻāina. Hawai‘i Business Magazine, 11 July. Available at: https://www.hawaiibusiness.com/808-cleanups-volunteer-nonprofit-oahu-native-hawaiian-culture-practices/ (accessed 2 August 2025).Google Scholar
Burgess, H, Cormack, D and Reid, P (2021) Calling forth our pasts, citing our futures: An envisioning of a Kaupapa Māori citational practice. MAI Journal: A New Zealand Journal of Indigenous Scholarship 10(1), 5767. https://doi.org/10.20507/MAIJournal.2021.10.1.8.Google Scholar
Delorme, AE, Poirion, OB, Lebreton, L, le Gac, P-Y, Kāne, K and Royer, S-J (2025) A year-long field study of buried plastics reveals underestimation of plastic pollution on Hawaiian beaches. Marine Pollution Bulletin 214, 117712. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.marpolbul.2025.117712.Google Scholar
Fukumitsu, K, Kāne, K and Chang, E (2025) Answerable research practice partnerships: Practicing aloha ʻāina, cultivating pilina, and co-producing knowledge accountable to Hawaiʻi. In Rajala, A, Cortez, A, Hofmann, R, Jornet, A, Lotz-Sisitka, H and Markauskaite, L (eds), Proceedings of the 19th International Conference of the Learning Sciences – ICLS 2025. International Society of the Learning Sciences, Helsinki, Finland, pp. 209216.Google Scholar
Jones, A and Jenkins, K (2008) Rethinking collaboration: Working the indigene-colonizer hyphen. In Denzin, K, Lincoln, YS and Smith, LT (eds.), Handbook of Critical Indigenous Methodologies. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE, pp. 471486.Google Scholar
Kahalemaile, DK (1871) Haiolelo a Davida K. Kahalemaile, ma Mānoa, ma ka lā 31 o Iulai. [Speech by Kahalemaile, David K., in Mānoa, on 31 July]. Ka Nupepa Kuokoa, p. 2.Google Scholar
Kalimahauna, JM (1962a) O ke kumu mua o ko Hawaiʻi nei kanaka. Ka Hoku o ka Pakipika 1(21), 13 February, p. 1. Available at: https://nupepa.org/?a=d&d=KHP18620213-01.2.5&e=-------en-20--1--txt-txIN%7CtxNU%7CtxTR%7CtxTI---------0 (Accessed 22 October 2025).Google Scholar
Kalimahauna, JM (1962b) No nā hanauna mai o Wākea mai. Ka Hoku o ka Pakipika 1(23), 27 February, p. 2. Available at: https://nupepa.org/?a=d&d=KHP18620227-01.2.15&e=-------en-20--1--txt-txIN%7CtxNU%7CtxTR%7CtxTI---------0 (Accessed 22 October 2025).Google Scholar
Kimmerer, RW and Burgoyne, J (2024) The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World. New York: Scribner.Google Scholar
Kurashima, N, Jeremiah, J and Ticktin, T (2017) I ka Wā ma Mua: The value of a historical ecology approach to ecological restoration in Hawai‘i. Pacific Science 71(4), 437456. https://doi.org/10.2984/71.4.4.Google Scholar
Liboiron, M, Ammendolia, J, Winsor, K, Zahara, A, Bradshaw, H, Melvin, J, Mather, C, Dawe, N, Wells, E, Liboiron, F, Fürst, B, Coyle, C, Saturno, J, Novacefski, M, Westscott, S and Liboiron, G (2017) Equity in author order: A feminist laboratory’s approach. Catalysis Feminism, Theory, Technoscience 3(2), 117. https://doi.org/10.28968/cftt.v3i2.28850.Google Scholar
Liliʻuokalani, (1897) An Account of the Creation of the World According to Hawaiian Tradition. Washington, D.C: The Polynesian Historical Society.Google Scholar
Nelson, MK (2008) Lighting the Sun of our Future. In Original Instructions: Indigenous Teachings for a Sustainable Future. Rochester, Vermont: Bear & Company.Google Scholar
Oliveira, RK and Wright, EK (2016) Kanaka ʻŌiwi Methodologies: Mo‘Olelo and Metaphor. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press.Google Scholar
Osorio, JH (2021) Remembering our Intimacies: Mo’olelo, Aloha ʻĀina, and Ea. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.Google Scholar
Poepoe, JM (1906) Ka moʻolelo o kou ʻāina ʻŌiwi. Ka Naʻi Aupuni, 1(111), 5 April, p. 3. Available at: https://nupepa.org/?a=d&d=KNA19060405-01.2.9&e=-------en-20--1--txt-txIN%7CtxNU%7CtxTR%7CtxTI---------0 (Accessed 22 October 2025).Google Scholar
Pukui, MK (1983) ʻŌlelo Noʻeau: Hawaiian Proverbs & Poetical Sayings. Honolulu, HI, USA: Bishop Museum Press.Google Scholar
Pukui, MK, Elbert, SH (1986) Hawaiian Dictionary: Hawaiian-English/English-Hawaiian. Revised and enlarged edition. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. pp. throughoutGoogle Scholar
Society of Native Nations on behalf of the International Indigenous Peoples’ Forum on Plastics (2024) Closing plenary statement at the First Part of the Fifth Session of the Intergovernmental Negotiating Committee (INC-5.1) to Prepare a Global Treaty on Plastic Pollution (01 December 2024, Busan, South Korea). United Nations Environment Programme. Available at: https://resolutions.unep.org/incres/uploads/iipfp_-_closing_plenary_statement_-_01_dec_2024.docx21.pdf (accessed 2 September 2025).Google Scholar
Sterling, EP and Summers, CC (1978) Sites of Oʻahu. Honolulu: Bernice P. Bishop Museum, pp. 244256.Google Scholar
Stone, JK (2022) Mauliola i ka Mahiʻai: Our Farming is our Stewardship, because our Resources are our Relations [video]. Kanaka Scholar Series, hosted by Bianca Isaki. HK West Maui Community Fund. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UzAyjgHnv4c.Google Scholar
Trask, H (1999) From a Native Daughter: Colonialism and Sovereignty in Hawaiʻi. Honolulu: University of Hawaiʻi Press.Google Scholar
UN General Assembly (2007) United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples: resolution adopted by the General Assembly, A/RES/61/295, 2 October 2007. Sixty-first session, New York: United Nations. Available at: https://www.un.org/esa/socdev/unpfii/documents/DRIPS_en.pdf (Accessed 13 February 2025).Google Scholar
van Dooren, T (2022) A World in a Shell: Snail Stories for a Time of Extinctions. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. pp. 12.Google Scholar
Figure 0

Table 1. Excerpt of He Mele no ke Kumulipo, Wā ʻEhā (with English translations provided by Liliʻuokalani (1897) and supplemented by Johanna Kapōmaikaʻi Stone)

Author comment: “Where have the sand turtles gone?”: A Waimānalo orientation to plastics research — R0/PR1

Comments

Dear Editors of Plastics,

We are pleased to submit our perspective manuscript titled “ʻWhere have the sand turtles gone?’: A Moana Nui Orientation to Plastics Research” for consideration in Cambridge Prisms: Plastics.

Our perspective manuscript speaks to Plastics’ mission by exploring the deep entanglement of plastics, people, and nature. Focusing on Moana Nui (the Pacific), we show how pervasive plastic pollution not only threatens human and environmental health, but also disrupts relational systems of justice, rights, and reciprocity. By centering our discussion on the disappearance of the Peʻeone (sand turtles) rather than on the immediate impacts of plastic pollution, we illustrate how their loss signals deeper disruptions in the web of life. Our paper integrates the rich lessons from the Kumulipo, Hawaiʻi’s creation story, to propose a descendant-informed research approach that honors ancestral guidance and fosters right relations with Moana Nui.

Many environmental studies in Moana Nui remain disconnected from localized knowledge systems, often resulting in solutions that do not align with the specific challenges of these regions. Our manuscript aims to invite readers to rethink plastics research and environmental stewardship. We advocate for descendant-informed practices that weaves ancestral guidance into plastics research. This approach reframes “solution-seeking” by prioritizing place-based relationalities and intergenerational stewardship—which we believe aligns with the interdisciplinary perspective that Plastics seeks to showcase. We would greatly appreciate your valuable feedback and hope you find our work both suitable for and contributory to the global aims of Plastics.

We confirm that this manuscript has not been published previously and is not under consideration for publication elsewhere

Review: “Where have the sand turtles gone?”: A Waimānalo orientation to plastics research — R0/PR2

Conflict of interest statement

Reviewer declares none.

Comments

This is a “must publish” for me (a rare enough event). Well-written, deeply meaningful, discursive, informative (especially on the cosmology and language fronts). And exciting -- to see the application of Indigenous wisdom in a paper published in a journal such as Cambridge Prisms: Plastics would be a real step forward on the path toward epistemological reconciliation, one seldom taken in most mainstream peer-reviewed journals. The authors use the narrative of a (self-corrected) scientific study offered a “loving critique” to introduce a wide-ranging discussion of the destructive impact of plastic pollution and extractivism informed by the wisdom of “Indigenous relationalities” derived from (perhaps 2,000) years of human evolution of the human inhabitants of Moana Nui (which is, brilliantly in my view, credited with authorship!). I don’t see any need for substantive revisions here, except perhaps to add some more context about the threat to sand/sea turtles from plastic (ingestion, entanglement) up front just to keep the reader who turns to the piece from their love of turtles engaged. And we might also have a bit more on what motivated the Delorme study in the first place (not just macroplastic in the sea but microplastic on/in the beach sand as an indicator of plastic in the ocean) clearly described near the opening of the article, which would help situate it. From the Delorme article (Note: the Delorme article cited as preprint is now out in Marine Pollution Bulletin so that citation should be updated):

“a better understanding of the quantity of plastic particles in the deeper layer of the sand column could be useful in assessing ocean plastic pollution and the effectiveness of upstream mitigation efforts, especially in zones which are predicted to receiving significant amount of the “legacy plastics”.”

I realize these might be viewed as distractions from the main points made in the article presently under review but i do think they would help readers more accustomed to conventional scientific papers settle in a bit quicker.

Overall, this article is in my view exactly the kind of work we need to see more of, written from a perspective that challenges but does not attempt to disqualify “western” science. And it‘’s a brilliant narrative device to land on a critique of the plastics treaty negotiation process; I can confirm the authors’ concerns about the abundance of industrial representation compared to the Indigenous rights holders who are fortunate if they are granted a side event or two. The need for descendant-informed scholarship has never been as obvious. I do hope Cambridge Prisms can publish this piece, but if not then I suspect there are several other journals that would be pleased to do so.

Review: “Where have the sand turtles gone?”: A Waimānalo orientation to plastics research — R0/PR3

Conflict of interest statement

No conflicts of interest or competing interests

Comments

This paper advocates for what it calls a Descendant-Informed Approach to Research, a methodology that privileges Indigenous (and specifically Native Hawaiian) ways of knowing and doing. The narrative is premised on a pivotal reflexive moment for the second co-author, a non-Indigenous settler who noticed that Western-Science-as-usual during a shoreline plastic study was (potentially?) extractivist. By listening to the third author, who is Indigenous, the second author became oriented to what the paper calls Descendant-Informed Research or Moana Nui Orientated research, an Indigenous and/or decolonial research methodology based on listening to co-author Kimenoa Kane and learning that there are many relations in the world/Creation. In the final section, the authors criticize the approach that the Global Plastics Treaty is taking because it does not foreground Indigenous rights.

Reviewer positionality: I’m an Indigenous researcher specializing in contaminants research using Indigenous, community-based, and collaborative methodologies. I am not from Hawai’i. I am dedicated to furthering Indigenous research methodologies, particularly as they relate to relational ethics and meaningful findings for community.

Overall, I am an advocate for Indigenous-specific methodologies that, in this case, reflect Hawai’i, Moana Nui, ‘Ōlelo Hawaiʻi, and/or Kānaka ʻŌiwi rather than pan-Indigenous approaches in general. The use of original languages is a significant part of methodological specificity, and I appreciate academic papers foregrounding Native languages in a way that allows English to become less dominant in the narrative.

Currently, several barriers exist to achieving what I perceive as the goal of the piece: articulating an Indigenous research methodology characterized by being “Descendant-Informed.”

I’ve outlined the barriers in order of importance, starting with things that must be addressed before that goal is reached, and secondly, outlining things that would simply support that goal. However, if I were an organizational editor for the authors rather than merely a reviewer, my recommendation would be to reframe the article with a different goal, as a true perspective piece, rather than as the theorization of a methodology. With edits, this piece can likely stand on its own as a narrative about a settler plastics researcher coming to an understanding about science and colonialism with the help of some Indigenous teachers and/or collaborators. I think most of the issues with the piece come from an overreach, and the main writer(s) are running up against established conversations, norms, expectations, and even ethics they aren’t fluent in. I think stripping things out and clarifying voice would be the strongest, most timely route to editing, and would either address the barriers below or make them irrelevant.

Barriers to articulating a Descendant-Informed Approach to Research

1. Clarification and specificity around the method: As a reader, if I were asked what a Descendant-Informed Approach to Research was, I would say that it involves listening to Indigenous people about environmental relationships, and that it is particularly (exclusively?) suited to settlers who don’t already know these things. If that is incorrect, that needs to be clarified (there was an earlier moment in the text where it looked like “descendant” referred to all humans, including white settlers, but then by page 6 it was not). If that is correct, then there is an issue of framing an Indigenous or decolonial methodology that is for non-Indigenous people (see Smith’s Decolonizing Methodologies, Andersen and Walter’s Indigenous Statistics, Tuck and Yang’s “Decolonization is not a Metaphor”).

2. If (and only if) the authors are dedicated to theorizing a Descendant-Informed Approach to Research as an Indigenous, decolonial, or anti-colonial method (all of which are different), the following areas need clarification:

⁃ Conflation of Indigenous and non-Indigenous people, and of different Indigenous people. If this is a place-based method or comes from specific Hawaiian relations, the claim that “We are all in the same canoe” has to be amended, and the role of each type of author/reader needs to be clarified. Indigenous people have written extensively on conflating Indigenous and non-Indigenous people when it comes to responsibilities and coalitions (e.g. Liboiron and “universal we”, Tuck and Yang’s “Settler moves to innocence,” and Jones with Jenkins with “the indigene-colonizer hyphen”—basically, lots of folks saying “don’t conflate, even if you love each other and share goals”). At the moment, Indigenous and non-indigenous people are conflated to an extent that I would call unethical—that is, that white settlers (stakeholders, guests) are given the same status, access, and relations as Indigenous Peoples (rightsholders, hosts) in what appears to be an Indigenous methodology.

⁃ What is the method/ology? How does it work? What does it look like? It is not entirely clear if it is a methodology (approach) or method (tool). In either case, the method or methodology needs to be clarified so that readers can identify how the method/ology introduced in the first half of the text is being used to get the results in the second half of the text, and how they would use or adapt the methodology in their own work (including how to identify if it is appropriate to use, and then how they would go about it if so). At the moment, the way a Descendant-Informed Approach to Research appears to work is that white settlers show humility and listen to Indigenous people, which causes them to realize their assumptions. This appears to make it a method for researcher reflexivity for people who are not already in community or do not have access to or familiarity with Indigenous cosmologies. When that method is used in plastics research, the change is: the digging stops, and there are critiques of the Global Plastics Treaty. But how would research start again in a good way? Or is it a method for stopping (called a method of refusal in Indigenous research methodology literature)? Note that it is not clear to me how the digging method works in the description of the method.

⁃ Specifics of the method/ology in terms of “decedents”: The title refers to a Moana Nui approach to research, but the text refers to descendant-based research. These are not the same thing. If the authors believe there is overlap, particularly within a Hawaiian cosmology, it has to be explained *and maintained* throughout the paper. While defendants can be human or not in some cosmologies, it looks like there are two very different meanings to each. The narrative also appears to imply that defendants are just those who have ancestors (pp 6-7), but that’s an unusually linear and responsibility-free relationship for any Indigenous cosmologies I’m familiar with. If Hawaiian cosmologies support a linear relationship (everyone is a descendant, everyone has ancestors in the same way), this has to be explained. At the start of the paper, it looks like a Moana Nui approach to research is being framed based on translated texts and chants that talk about the land and water. By the middle/end of the paper, the ocean is absent, and the descendant appears to refer to a single man. On page 6, the authors write, “We use the term ‘descendant’, rather than Moana Nui or “Indigenous”, to make this work available to all people across the globe.” This would mean the method is not place-based, which is stated on pp 4. It would also work against foundational theories of Indigenous methodologies like those of Linda Smith (“Decolonizing Methodologies”) that argue against a pan-Indigenous way of being. Clarification is required throughout. In short, a lot of terms and ideas that are different are used interchangeably, and this needs to be clarified either by reducing the promiscuity of the term, or by explaining how different elements are related.

The theorization of a methodology (ie, an approach to research) is a heavy lift for a perspectives piece. I don’t think it’s an inherent misfit, but the authors may choose to scale back the argument to be about a pivotal moment of realization (a shift in perspective) rather than a decolonial methodology. In that case, some of the above would have to be addressed if some of the core language remains (like decolonial, decedent, cosmology), but many issues would also become less relevant. The two barriers below would remain.

1. Author’s voice and positionality:

⁃ The positionality statement/introduction to the authors needs to move up to the first page of the piece. Not only is this protocol, but it was truly confusing to read the first 6 or 7 pages when the authors spoke as “we” but there were obviously very different positions and frameworks in play. I deeply value multi-vocal collaborative writing, but as part of that craft the voices must be distinct when they are not the same positionality. For example, sometimes “we” was the authors and sometimes “we” were Indigenous people, and they were not differentiated, which is confusing but more importantly, unethical. At other times, the text was clearly written in the third person about two of the co-authors, where first-person narratives would have been more appropriate (less confusing, better information, truer positionality, more ethical). There are some great examples of a mixed group of authors writing multifocal texts, including where some co-authors do not put pen to the page (or keyboards to the document) e.g. Jones with Jenkins (2008), Burgess et al. (2020).

⁃ Related to this, there is a notable skew in the narrative, where the main case study focuses on the experiences of a white researcher becoming reflexive, and not about Indigenous researchers being teachers or collaborators or knowledge holders. This isn’t an inherently bad narrative, but it needs to be framed with the proper voice and accountabilities.

⁃ This piece needs the equivalent of a CREDIT statement— who did what in the piece. This is part of accountability and protocol, which is important in general but crucial for the ethics of a group that is talking about Indigenous cosmologies— even if everyone was Indigenous (Elders vs students vs parents have different accountabilities and roles in knowledge sharing instance), which is not the case here and makes it even more important (ie, ethical).

1. Organization and internal coherence:

⁃ At the moment, there are three very distinct portions of the paper that could be their own papers: the introduction, which includes considerable Native language and translation; the case study of a white researcher realizing they are a guest on Indigenous land (my paraphrase); and a critique of the Global Plastics Treaty. While perspective pieces aren’t research articles, the three parts should be linked in concrete, specific and/or clear ways. Given that the main argument of the piece appears to be a call for a research method, a logical connection would be: 1) an introduction to a cosmology that positions descendant, 2) a demonstration of how that works, with specific ties back to the cosmology, and 3) what happens when you apply that approach to science or scientific endeavours. The last section on the Treaty is the least connected.

Support for articulating a Descendant-Informed Approach to Research

1. Familiarity or fluency in Indigenous methodologies and conversations: The reference list has an appropriate number of Indigenous authors for a piece like this, but the core arguments and conversations from those referenced articles aren’t in strong evidence. For instance, Tina Ngata is cited and quoted multiple times about relationally, but one of Ngata’s core arguments in her body of work is that scientists should “get out of the way” of Indigenous scientists and communities and strongly advocates against Indigenous knowledge as a public good that is available for settler use, including in collaborative dialogue. I love Ngata’s work, but it reads as a misfit for what the authors are arguing for here. Similarly, while the authors propose an Indigenous methodology, they do not seem to have read the cannon on Indigenous methodologies (noted above in the section on positionality and on clarification of the method).

The authors may want to look into some of their citations that have been criticized by Indigenous scholars ethics violations.

Citations

Burgess, H., D. Cormack, and P. Reid. 2021. ‘Calling Forth Our Pasts, Citing Our Futures: An Envisioning of a Kaupapa Māori Citational Practice’. MAI Journal. A New Zealand Journal of Indigenous Scholarship 10(1):57–67.

Jones, Alison, and Kuni Jenkins. 2008. ‘Rethinking Collaboration: Working the Indigene-Colonizer Hyphen’. Pp. 471–86 in Handbook of critical indigenous methodologies, edited by K. Denzin, Y. S. Lincoln, and L. T. Smith. Thousand Oaks,  CA,  US: SAGE.

Liboiron, Max, and Josh Lepawksy. 2022. ‘There’s No Such Thing as We: A Theory of Difference’. Pp. 97–124 in Discard Studies: Wasting, Systems, and Power. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Tuck, Eve, and K. Wayne Yang. 2012. ‘Decolonization Is Not a Metaphor’. Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society 1(1).

Review: “Where have the sand turtles gone?”: A Waimānalo orientation to plastics research — R0/PR4

Conflict of interest statement

No competing interests

Comments

Review: Stone et al, “Where have the sand turtles gone?”: A Moana Nui Orientation to Plastics Research

Summary: In this manuscript, the authors seek to illustrate their descendent-informed methodology through the example of Delorme and Kāne at Hunaniho. In addition, the authors have endeavored to contextualize their work within a political framework that spans Moana Nui, discard studies, and cosmogonic origins in the Kumulipo. This is too much to cover in a single manuscript and I recommend the authors instead focus on clarifying the descendant methodology using the Delorme and Kāne interaction as an example.

Major issues:

• The voice and positionality of the authors in the manuscript is inconsistent throughout the piece lending confusion to the strength of the theoretical arguments and weakening the manuscript overall. The authors are Native Hawaiian (Stone, Kāne), malihini, kamaʻāina (Chang), and from Oceania (Varea). Clear positionality must be established at the beginning of the manuscript explaining who the authors are and where they are from.

o First, one of the authors is Moana Nui, yet the authors are explicitly take a Hawaiʻi-based perspective. Including a place as a author is not inappropriate as an authors, but not all peoples in Oceania/the Pacific recognize Moana Nui as a name for this space - it is primarily a name that those who live in the areas named Polynesia utilize. Thus the name Moana Nui is limiting rather than inclusive. Moreover, the authors reference other Oceania scholars sparingly (e.g. Hauʻofa, Ngata, Varea). These authors are only from the ethnographic care of Polynesia, which raises questions about the having strong grounding in a broad Oceania-based perspective. Rather than claiming a Moana Nui perspective, which isnʻt necessary for this manuscript, the authors could more strongly root their position in Hawaiʻi. For instance, focusing the piece more rigorously in the work of other Native Hawaiian scholars. In addition, instead of Moana Nui, perhaps a more appropriate author might be Hawaiʻi nei or Hūnāniho which is a the site of transformation for the authors.

o Second, in asserting a Moana Nui epistemic grounding but priveleging ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, the authors appear to conflate Hawaiʻi life ways with Moana Nui life ways, which is reductive and inaccurate. Do all the authors ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi? Terms and cultural concepts from other Moana Nui cultures were not mentioned in the manuscript. As for cosmogonic origin stories, only the Kumulipo was used as a foundation. Given that the site Delormeʻs research was exclusively Hūnāniho, it makes sense that koʻihonua from Hawaiʻi were used as a foundation, but this further supports a narrowing from Moana Nui to a Hawaiʻi-focused epistemology.

o Finally, at various times, the authors switch narrative voice, writing in first person (“us” and “we”) as well as third person, referring to “Delorme” and “Kāne”. It is difficult for the audience to understand whose perspective we are meant to see. The authors need to decide on a consistent perspective and write the text as a unified collective. Who is the “we”? who is the “us”? For example in line 49: “our role as malihini” - the voice is confusing as the first author is ostensibly kanaka as are other authors. why are kanaka authors writing as non-native folks?

• Use of ʻike Hawaiʻi and its sources – specifically the Kumulipo - should be justified within an ʻōiwi/kanaka maoli context and Hawaiʻi life ways.

o First, the Kumulipo version that is cited as the foundation for the authorʻs methodology is a translation by a haole ethnographer (Beckwith). In Decolonization is not a metaphor, Tuck and Yang write that “To fully enact an ethic of incommensurability means relinquishing settler futurity, abandoning the hope that settlers may one day be commensurable to Native peoples.” Why did the authors choose to use the Beckwith translation instead of translations by kanaka (e.g. Liliʻuokalani, Kalākaua, or the Edith Kanakaʻole Foundation)? Given increased resurgence of ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, it is unnecessary to use a non-ōiwi source as the translation for such a foundational cultural work. Another option is that, while potentially daunting, if the authors deem it necessary to include a section of the fourth wā of the Kumulipo, they should translate lines 380 – 480 themselves. For example, in Kumulipo 380: hoʻokaha doesnʻt not mean to creep up to the land, it means to seize what is anotherʻs (Andrews, 1865). Thus the following Kumulipo lines could be translated as 380 The sea seizes the land, 381: dragging backward, dragging forth. What other errors has Beckwith made that may alter the authorsʻ interpretation of this koʻihonua? Without knowing who amongst the authors can ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, the importance of relying on ʻōiwi translations is even more important to transmit knowledge from a Hawaiʻi lens.

o Second, the authors invocation of the Kumulipo as Original Instructions (lines 10, 29, 44) is problematic because Original Instructions are a set of teachings shared by the original peoples of the Great Lakes region (Anishnabewaki)of Turtle Island (Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass). It is inappropriate to translate the Kumulipo as Original Instructions because these concepts are incommensurable (see above). This also means that as kanaka ʻōiwi, our concepts are not commensurable to other Native peoples and vice versa. What are the authors’ thoughts around kanaka Hawaiʻi ascribing to original instructions? It feels like borrowing pan-Indigenous concepts without establishing whether this is part of Hawaiʻi life ways. Significant caution should be exercised in adopting pan-Indigenous logics for ʻike Hawaiʻi.

o Finally, the authors assert that the Kumulipo “expresses the interrelationships of all living things” (line 34) which isnʻt exactly accurate. Though humans are mentioned, in a very specific lineage or geneology of aliʻi are mentioned, specifically KalaninuiĪamamao. Thus the Kumulipo is very much an exclusive proof of legitimacy for those who govern. Itʻs not clear whether makaʻāinana would have had common knowledge of the Kumulipo and itʻs function as a legitimizer of lineage cannot be separated from the other knowledge in the first 8 wā. It should also be noted that not all mea ola Hawaiʻi are included in the Kumulipo.

• Descendant-informed research as a methodology is currently poorly articulated. A methodology is system of procedures and rules or criteria that guide a research approach. In this manuscript, there is no definition and no citation as a methodology. The main issue is that the authors talk about their methodology without first explaining what it is. Are the authors describing a brand-new methodology there? how is this a unique approach distinct from other ʻōiwi research methodologies (e.g. Kahalauʻs maʻawe pono, Goodyear-Kaʻopuaʻs ropes of resistance, Kanakaʻole Kanaheleʻs Papakū Makawalu). The author team should expand more directly and explicitly about this methodology.

From what I gleaned, components of descendent-informed research include:

o Asking who the plastic research was disturbing to ascertain relationships and continuity, centering kinship relationships vs. the objective position of plastic.

o Listening to the descendants of the places: where is the science situated. In line 17 the authors refer to “ancestrally guided scientific practices”. It is not clear what that means. Whose ancestors?

o Prioritize the terms, lifeways and values systems of places we inhabit. Are there other koʻihonua, moʻolelo, kaʻao or mele specific to Hūnāniho or the Koʻolaupoko moku that could be included here? The Kumulipo applies broadly to ko Hawaiʻi pae ʻāina and less specifically to Hūnāniho.

What other parts are missing? The writing in these sections would benefit from increased clarity. For example, in line 48 the authors state that “good science should be oppositional and propositional” What does this mean? What is this referring to? There should be more citations to support this line of argumentation. What specific scientific paradigms does descendant-informed scholarship oppose?

• In general, there need to be more citations.

o Web-based citations of hua ʻōlelo are insufficient – specific linkage to which Hawaiian language dictionary is being referenced should be made.

o Citation 55 is a misattribution, while this paper does speak about the triple Piko concept, it originates from Dr. Kekuni Blaisdell (see https://www.inmotionmagazine.com/kekuninf.html or https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2FmbdusZko). It would be most approrpiate to honor the moʻokūauhau of this manaʻo by citing Dr. Blaisdell instead.

• Again, I want to emphasize that it would be sufficient for this paper to clearly articulate the descendent-informed methodology. Use as a case study/example how a western scientific researcherʻs study design was influenced andn transformed by working with community members. It would be even more insightful to expand on what were the outcomes of the study? How did this interaction change future plastics research? Political discourse on plastic need not be overly emphasized in this manuscript. Perhaps it could be moved to the end as a reflective perspective to connect the work outward.

Minor issues

• Abstract:

o why is Web of Life capitalized? how is it a Hawaiʻi concept?

o one can also refer to one hānau - sands of our birth

• line 43: what does “from outside period” mean?

• Italicize Linneaan genus + species names

• There are inconsistences throughout the manuscript when the authors refer to the Kumulipo: sometimes “the Kumulipo” and sometimes “ke Kumulipo”. All instances should be of the same convention

Recommendation: “Where have the sand turtles gone?”: A Waimānalo orientation to plastics research — R0/PR5

Comments

Thank you for submitting your manuscript to Cambridge Prisms: Plastics. The reviewers unanimously recognize the manuscript’s innovative contribution, particularly its integration of Indigenous epistemologies into plastics research. However, while one reviewer recommends publication with minor adjustments, the others identify significant issues that must be addressed to clarify the manuscript’s theoretical framing, positionality, and methodological coherence. In light of these, we invite you to submit a major revision that responds fully to the reviewers’ detailed and constructive feedback. We look forward to receiving your revised manuscript.

Please also consider the word count limitation.

Decision: “Where have the sand turtles gone?”: A Waimānalo orientation to plastics research — R0/PR6

Comments

No accompanying comment.

Author comment: “Where have the sand turtles gone?”: A Waimānalo orientation to plastics research — R1/PR7

Comments

No accompanying comment.

Review: “Where have the sand turtles gone?”: A Waimānalo orientation to plastics research — R1/PR8

Conflict of interest statement

NA

Comments

Article has been improved by the authors and can be published at this point

Recommendation: “Where have the sand turtles gone?”: A Waimānalo orientation to plastics research — R1/PR9

Comments

The authors appear to have made the necessary revisions in accordance with the reviewers' suggestions. This paper can be considered for publication.

Decision: “Where have the sand turtles gone?”: A Waimānalo orientation to plastics research — R1/PR10

Comments

No accompanying comment.