During the 7:00 a.m. hour on April 20^th, just when the people of the State of Hawaiʻi were getting ready for work, news came down that Hawaiʻiʻs third governor since statehood, George Ariyoshi, passed away at the age of 100.

For the start of a week that was full of other political events in the state, the news of the passing brought a needed pause and reflection on the passing of a political generation that helmed Hawai’i’s emergence from a plantation territory to a modern state.

However, to this blogger, the impact of Ariyoshi’s presence in the Hawaiʻi political realm didnʻt come from his 12-year service as Hawai’i’s governor (which made him the longest serving, something which term limit laws allow governors now to only serve a maximum of 8 years). It was not how he governed (noting his fiscal prudence as policy for the state), nor how he broke barriers for Asian Americans, becoming the first governor of Japanese heritage to serve as a state governor.

It came from a telling of a story, of him giving a speech during the election of 1970, and how, in that moment, that event and in that room, a political figure emerged through a speech that could only be seen as a masterclass in delivery.

In the book “Catch a Wave” by Tom Coffman, he told the story about this speech, given by Ariyoshi, in a chapter entitled “Okage-sama de”, a Japanese phrase that means, in English, “I am what I am because of you.”, Coffman describes this speech, and what it meant to both the person, the people in the room, and what would be the State of Hawaiʻi.

With condolences to his family, we return to a moment that didn’t just introduce George Ariyoshi—it showed, quietly, just how good he already was.

When George Ariyoshi took the podium, he opened by thanking his friends in Japanese: “Okage sama de,” meaning, I am what I am because of you. He also said that this was a new experience for him, that he wanted to speak from the heart, and he instructed the press corps that he would depart from his prepared text. For someone who was portraying himself as a novice at big-time campaigning, Ariyoshi was proceeding masterfully. Following his greeting of “Okake sama de,” Ariyoshi wove his way from the glitter of the moment back to the darkness of the old days.

“Having been born on the corner of Smith and Pauahi streets [a corner in the central city which in 1970 was dominated by tense black faces which spoke of truly intense discrimination], I am literally a product of the slums,” Ariyoshi said, “In reality, I am your product, for itʻs been said that no man lives in a vacuum. And what little measure of success I have attained has been the result of the help and efforts of so many of you.”

Ariyoshiʻs voice broke, and he was silent for several seconds, and then he composed himself and recalled that as a child in grade school he had decided to become a lawyer. He had confided this ambition to his father, who had come from Japan and was a sumo wrestler, and operated a laundry. And his father had told him that to realize this dream of becoming an attorney, “I could have the shirt off his back.”

Ariyoshi settled his eyes on his three children, the grandchildren of the sumo wrestler Ryozo Ariyoshi. The candidate for the second highest office in Hawaii, addressing his children by name, told them they were lucky to live in America, particularly lucky to live in a state “where government places its emphasis on people and human dignity, where your education and your enjoyment of life are given such high priority, where there is equality of opportunity, and where you can dream, and dreams become real if we work for them.”

“But Hawaii was not always like this, for we didnʻt always have equality of opportunities and people were not always advanced in business on the basis on their abilities. Better job opportunities were not always available to all.”

“If any man in Hawaii is to be given credit for this change, it is your present governor,” Ariyoshi said to his children, “our dear friend, John A. Burns.”

The assembled crowd cheered spontaneously, wildly – Ariyoshi had succeeded in spanning the years of affluence, had succeeded in reminding them of the sweet taste of equality following the several decades of second-class citizenship. And in this context, John Burns was not merely a two-term governor but a champion of entire races who had felt the weight of discrimination.

In the psychological flavor of George Ariyoshiʻs appeal, the past, the battles of 1941 and 1954, was anything but a long-ago past. It was real, immediate, only yesterday.

From that night foward, wherever Ariyoshi would go througout the campaign, he would bring to life the past, telling and retelling the story of 1954, of how as a young graduate of law school he had found the path of opportunity closed, and of how John Burns, then a struggling and controversial ex-cop, had told him to get involved in politics and to help build a new order, one in which each man could rise according to his own ability.

Ariyoshi was running as the personification of a dream come true.

~ Catch A Wave Okage-sama de pages 94-95

What made this speech a masterclass wasn’t just the story—it was how Ariyoshi told it. He opened with humility, grounded himself in shared struggle, and then connected that past to a present political promise that the audience could feel was already within reach.

To get an audience to believe what is being said could actually happen—that’s the political sweet spot.

Many aim for it.

Very few reach it.

Ariyoshi did.

Election season in Hawaii has arrived, with signs being hung, posted, or otherwise erected for candidates running for office. The fact that this happens every two years is about as newsworthy as telling everyone that the sun comes up every morning in the east.

In other words, not very newsworthy.

However, there are those examples of sign posting that pique the interest of this blogger when out and about. That has to do with the posting of banners for a candidate in an area outside of their district.

Like, really outside.

PC: PHwSF – Stan Fichtman

The observation came while waiting for the stoplight to change, at the corner of Vineyard Blvd. and Punchbowl. At that location, there is a wall that faces toward the south, in which drivers see while driving up toward the HI West entry or to the Pali.

The sign posted there is of a candidate that does not live in the area, or a statewide candidate for that matter, but for a House member that lives in Makakilo – approximately 25 miles west of downtown, in the hills above Kapolei. The candidate is Representative Kanani Souza, District 43.

Now, one could be forgiven for being confused: “Why is a candidate running for office in Makakilo posting signs in the heart of Downtown Honolulu?” After all, most candidates who do put up signs have just enough money to cover their district, and really donʻt bleed into other districts to get the word out.

But in this case, there is more to the story.

The first part has to do with a strategic identification that a good amount of the constituency that lives in the district works in town. If one questions that assumption, simply watch one of the local morning shows where they report on traffic, and you will find that there are a lot of people who live in the west, but spend a good amount of time traveling and working in town.

So, in essence, Souza is speaking to the constituency where they are at.

The second part has to do with the nature of the race in that area, and Souzaʻs actions in that representation. As a follower of Hawaii politics may know, Kanani Souza is a Representative who identifies as a Republican, but does not caucus with the party in the House. This is because, soon after she got freshly elected, she limited her interaction with the Republican caucus and has not returned.

Then, she branched out and, along with Democratic Representative Della Au Belatti, drove a campaign to have the Legislature investigate the $35,000 “bribe in a bag” saga that has engulfed at least the Lt. Governor, and is under investigation by the Attorney Generalʻs office.

With that, Souza has drawn a primary challenger. So, as said in Shakespeare’s Henry V (Act 3, Scene 1), “The gameʻs afoot.”

But going back to sign placement, to this blogger, this is the first time they have seen a sign posted for a candidate in a vastly different district than the one they are running in. In campaigns past, candidates may post signs in the neighboring districts, just to capture the “on the district border” folks whose address is right against another district.

So, with the example that Souza is providing in this race, is the traditional definition of where a candidate’s sign is placed about to be redefined? If more campaigns start to follow the example, that would be a good sign that the definition has changed.

However, the more pointed question is whether “district presence”, especially here on Oahu, is changing, with campaigns realizing that if voters don’t spend their day in their district, should campaigns?

The news of new advertisements promoting Derek Kawakami came through a text, “Heard a radio ad for Kawakami on the radio by the carpenters. They starting early. Was a good, positive ad.”

Kawakami had announced only a couple of weeks before that he was filing to run for the office of Lt. Governor, challenging incumbent Sylvia Luke. Curious about the timing, it didn’t take long to see the visual version of the message — broadcast during prime time news.

And the first thing this blogger identified is that the tone of the ads was very easy on the eyes, and pleasant to hear as the voiceover of the ad is all Kawakami, speaking at a state of the county address in Kauaʻi.

There was something else, and it was a much deeper interpretation of a political ad, taking this watcher back to words written about another political advertisement campaign that was successful in a challenging primary campaign – just like this one.

That campaign, to the keen Hawaiʻi political pundit, was Tom Coffman’s Catch a Wave. For those not familiar with this pivotal work, Coffman details the primary election between incumbent governor John Burns vs. the current Lt. Governor, Thomas Gill, who was running to become the Democratic party nominee in the 1970 election.

Burns, spending a lot of money, and as Coffman describes,

“For two weeks, the local agency had guided a Medion (mainland advertising firm) crew through some two hundred interviews covering Burns’ family friends, administrators, and political allies. In the process, the Medion crew shot twelve miles of film at sixteen millimeters, which, according to television technicians, was enough for more than thirty-six hours of viewing time.”

An image of Burns was created that both reintroduced the incumbent to the public while also redefining his image to be something more than just being governor.

As also described by Coffman, the opening of the ad campaign,

“The opening scene flashed on the governor driving over the Pali, then on the governor dedicating a space laboratory, then on Burns in his office talking into a telephone: ‘Arthur, I’ve established that some people are going over to Maui. We have troubles on Maui?” Fadeout Burns, cut to Fujio Matsuda, Burns’ transportation director: “I don’t think he’s just dreaming up a utopia that we can never achieve. He’s thinking about an achievable future for us.” Fade out Fujio Matsuda, cut on the ever-present Dan Aoki: “When you’re riding on top of a wave, you just sit on the wave. You just go…” You just go.

The wave rolled in, a brilliant blue, the epitome of beloved and idyllic Hawaii, as the Beach Boys came across in loud rock….Catch a wave.”

Note: Archival footage of the opening sequence referenced here is available through ʻUluʻulu: https://uluulu.recollectcms.com/nodes/view/47730

A lot of this imagery was reproduced, albeit in a more modern fashion, to introduce Kawakami to the state, complete with the surfing waves. Where it diverges from the Catch a Wave style is that the only person speaking in that ad is Kawakami itself. He makes remarks, emphasizing crisis leadership during floods and the pandemic. Rather than scripted campaign messaging, it relies on existing public footage to project authenticity and governing credibility.

Similar to what Burns did with Medion, there are a lot of images of Kawakami, including multiple pieces where he is speaking directly to the camera – film used from the Kauaʻi County State of the County address. As with Catch a Wave, the Kawakami/ For a Better Tomorrow ad has a simple mission – to introduce the candidate to a statewide audience, and tell everyone who they are.

And who is Derek Kawakami in these ads? It portrays him as a leader in crisis (angling toward Kauaʻi, addressing the COVID crisis) who provided steady governance. While done differently in Catch a Wave, it also portrayed the same tone, albeit with different people speaking on his behalf, until the end when Coffman described the ad closure.  

“Finally, John Burns, again: “My view of my father when I was small was he was God, he was king, he could do no wrong. I’m sure he swore, but I never heard him swear. I’m sure he was as human as the next man, but he always, at least within my view, controlled himself to the point where I never saw him do anything wrong – except, perhaps, lose that Irish temper once in a while.”

John Burns, nonetheless, appeared to be human, seated on his back steps, dressed in an aloha shirt, his face muscles taut, his voice quivering in temper: “Taking a stand is anything anybody can do. The governor or chief executive of the nation is not a guy going around taking stands. That’s the way to absolve yourself of any responsibility is taking a stand…..Any damn fool can take stands.

“And I say damn fool,” his voice rising, “Any fool can take a stand.

“Does that make sense? Take a stand.”

To Catch a Wave faded in soft music, leaving the governor pruning a tree in his lawn, remarking gently to his Beatrice on the fruits and blossoms.

In comparison, for the Kawakami/ For a Better Tomorrow also has him speaking about what his vision is. Admittedly, it’s a much more unifying message, relaying a vision of one Hawaiʻi. Like Catch a Wave, the For a Better Tomorrow ad avoids policy detail in favor of presence. It asks the viewer not to evaluate a platform, but to recognize a leader already in motion.

That kind of messaging also signals a phase shift (as noted in prior articles about the issues facing the current Lt. Governor). Earlier parts have been reactive — defined by response and positioning. This ad, instead, does something different. It doesn’t engage in that back-and-forth. It moves past the current issue and looks forward.

In that sense, this begins to look like a transition into Phase 3 — where the goal is no longer to respond to the narrative, but to replace it.

Set against that shift, the similarity becomes clearer: both use the voice and image…who they are and what they’re driven to do. In essence, the Kawakami/ For a Better Tomorrow ad does not invent a new style of message that Hawaiʻi has never seen before. Instead, it tweaks it to make the candidate the main focus and character you are seeing, while Catch a Wave was more of a testimonial of the candidate, focusing back on him only at the end, with his own voice and image.

And at the end, the iconic image of the wave is still there.

The question now is whether Kawakami’s campaign will ride it — or simply follow the current that’s already been set.

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Book citing:
Tom Coffman’s Catch a Wave: A Case Study of Hawaii’s New Politics (University of Hawaiʻi Press, 1973)