Saving the 'Tree of Life': Hawaii's Fight To Protect the Coconut

Along the shores of Wai‘anae, once-towering coconut palms now stand weakened, their tattered fronds struggling against the salty breeze. These trees, once a defining feature of the coastline, provided shade, nourishment, and a connection to past generations.

Now, many stand lifeless, their crowns hollowed out by an unseen invader. The coconut rhinoceros beetle, an invasive pest first detected in Hawaii a decade ago, has taken hold, leaving behind a stark reminder of how quickly a landscape—and a way of life—can change. 

The coconut rhinoceros beetle, a glossy black insect native to Southeast Asia, was first detected in Hawaii in December 2013 at a large breeding site in a golf course compost near Hickam Air Force Base.

Though its arrival remains uncertain—likely via military or commercial transport—its spread has been devastating. Burrowing into the crowns of coconut palms, the beetles leave behind distinctive V-shaped cuts in the fronds. Over time, they stunt leaf and fruit production, slowly killing trees that once lined streets, farms, and backyards.

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Since its arrival, the beetle has spread across O‘ahu, where it is now too widespread to eradicate. Instead, the state has shifted to long-term management, focusing on key transportation hubs and breeding grounds. 

“Given that Hawaii is multiple islands, making sure the beetle doesn’t leave O‘ahu is now one of our main priorities,” said Arisa Barcinas, an outreach specialist with the Coconut Rhinoceros Beetle Response, a multi-agency emergency program launched in 2013, managed by the University of Hawai‘i and primarily funded by the U.S, Department of Agriculture, the Department of Defense, and Hawaii's Department of Land and Natural Resources. “We’re treating breeding sites, doing palm injections near the ports, and making sure any exported material is clean.”

For the 2025 fiscal year, the governor of Hawaii allocated $2.4 million toward these strategies. While the efforts have slowed the beetles' spread, they have not stopped it. Transport of green waste remains the primary cause of its acceleration, and the pest has now been detected on Kaua‘i, Maui, and Hawaii Island.

Hawaii is not alone in this fight. Across the Pacific, islands like Guam, Samoa, and Palau are also battling the beetle, prompting regional collaborations and studies aimed at bio-control.

But Hawaii’s particular vulnerability lies in its geography and history. As one of the most isolated land masses on Earth, the islands evolved into a fragile and highly specialized ecosystem, shaped by species that arrived only by wind, waves, or wings. That same isolation has earned Hawaii the grim title of the “extinction capital of the world,” where invasive species are the leading cause of biodiversity loss. Introduced pests, from little fire ants to coqui frogs to mongooses, have repeatedly disrupted local food systems and cultural practices. The coconut rhinoceros beetle is just another example.

Known as the “tree of life” across many cultures, the coconut tree is a cornerstone of native Hawaiian culture and a potential key to food sovereignty on the islands. As trees disappear from familiar landscapes, they take with them the knowledge, stories, and practices rooted in generations. The loss of niu (coconut fruit and palms) isn’t just an ecological issue—it’s about losing a living thread that ties communities to their heritage and future.

A threat to a revived food source  

As with other cultural traditions, the relationship between many Hawaiians and niu has faded. Once seen as a staple, the coconut tree is now often regarded as an “ornamental liability,” says Jesse Mikasobe-Kealiinohomoku, an Indigenous food system manager at ‘Elepaio Social Services, one of Hawai‘i Foodbank’s agency partners that supports the Wai‘anae community.

Some see coconut trees as just pretty trees that line beaches and are on postcards. They can be dangerous; falling coconuts pose a risk to beachgoers, and thus the fruit is often cut down before it reaches maturity. But as Mikasobe-Kealiinohomoku notes, “when you lose that cultural connection, you don’t see it as a food source anymore.” 

Hawaii faces a major food insecurity crisis, with one in four residents struggle to access enough food. Since 85% to 90% of the state’s food is imported, achieving food sovereignty remains a pressing challenge. Most efforts to boost local food production focus on crops like mango or kalo (taro), while niu—one of the most versatile and resilient staples—remains overlooked.

Mikasobe-Kealiinohomoku—along with organizations like the Kaulunani Urban & Community Forestry Program, NiuNow, and ‘Elepaio Social Services—is working to increase access to coconuts as a staple food. However, there are barriers, including cost.

“There’s no conversation about niu,” said Mikasobe-Kealiinohomoku. “When you look at the coconut, it has the capacity to produce water, food, oil, sugar, everything. Even at the simplest level, after a coconut matures and falls to the ground, it could sit underneath the tree or in the shaded area for up to a year and still be useful. That's emergency preparedness right there. That's a food vessel that is storing itself.” 

He argues that when you view the coconut as an ornamental liability, it limits your ability to build a connection to it. 

“We needed to create more access points, because Home Depot was selling niu for around $400 to $500 a plant, which is crazy. When you start thinking about our community like Wai‘anae, we don't have that purchasing power,” Mikasobe-Kealiinohomoku said.

In order to address these systemic issues of food sovereignty, the nonprofit NiuNow was founded to collect seeds, plant ulu niu (coconut groves), and distribute coconuts for free in the community. Mikasobe-Kealiinohomoku, a co-founder, helped establish groves across O‘ahu, Moloka‘i, and Hawaii Island. However, their efforts have come under attack from the same beetles that caused damage to the ulu niu in O‘ahu. 

“From our experience, we normally have about 80% success from the trees we planted. So instead of planting 80 trees, we planted 100 assuming that 20 may die,” he said. “That's when we started to adopt the practice around, how do we safeguard our niu? How do we integrate these integrated pest management strategies in our toolbox to save our trees from getting killed?”

The threat of the coconut rhinoceros beetle could create a bottleneck effect, leading to genetic erosion and the loss of many species of the coconut. Contrary to popular belief, there isn’t just one type of coconut. They come in different colors, shapes, sizes, and functions, each with cultural value. One of NiuNow’s goals is to protect this diversity.

To help in this effort, Mikasobe-Kealiinohomoku and others at NiuNow were mentored by Indrajit Gunasekara, a coconut expert from Sri Lanka, the “capital of coconuts.” Gunasekara helped them identify different species, not only by phenotype, the physical appearance, but also through the stories tied to each variety.

“A lot of our work is navigating between two realms: Western ideology and the cultural perspective. We are finding value in identifying this middle route and how we can be bridges of that knowledge between the two.” 

This difference in perspective is particularly evident in conservation strategies. The Western approach often prioritizes saving trees by any means necessary, including pesticides. In contrast, the Indigenous perspective sees niu not just as a tree, but as a food source, a practice, even a living being.

An attack on a way of life

In Hawaiian, the coconut tree is called kumu niu. Kumu means "teacher," or someone you look up to. For generations, this tree has been more than just a source of food, it has been a guide deeply woven into the fabric of Hawaiian culture.

“This tree teaches us many things,” said Jahnna-Marie Kehaulani Kahele-Madali, a community coconut program assistant for the Kaulunani Urban & Community Forestry Program and a former NiuNow member. “You have to go on your own journey for what niu means to you, but for me, it’s a royal connection to our ancestors.”

In the 1860s, King Kamehameha V planted 1,000 coconut trees at Kapuāiwa Coconut Grove on Moloka‘i to commemorate each of his warriors. This act reflected the deep cultural significance of the tree. 

Niu has also long been used in traditional crafts such as mat-, basket-, and bag-weaving. By killing coconut trees, the beetle is disrupting a way of life. Christy Martin, program manager and information officer at the University of Hawai‘i Pacific Cooperative Studies Unit and Coordinating Group on Alien Species, warns that the invasion could accelerate the erosion of Hawaiian cultural traditions.

“Even a generation without teaching that skill, you could lose it completely,” Martin said.

Martin pushes back against the idea that niu is valuable only for its products.

“It's more than just a product; that's such a Western concept,” she explains. “What it is, is people get together, and you have to learn how to weave that mat. It's usually an elder working with a community that wants to learn how to weave, or has to learn how to weave. So it's not just the loss of a coconut tree. It's the loss of time together. It's the loss of cultural connections that perhaps keep elderly populations healthy. It's just so intertwined.”

For Arisa Barcinas, the loss of coconut trees and the need to act is felt deeply.

“As a weaver myself, there is this grief around what has been lost and what will be lost—it is inevitable that we are going to continue to lose so many trees,” Barcinas said. “There is this urgency to keep working and finding a way forward because there has to be one … there is no other option.”

Without action, an entire way of life, rooted in wisdom passed through generations, faces an uncertain future.

“The coconut is a sense of pride, revenue, family, connection, and health,” Martin said. “When you strip a person of their ability to practice their culture, you let them adrift.”