As the announcements rolled out for the Hawaii Congressional District 1 seat (urban Honolulu), one thing this blogger heard was an echo from the past.
Specifically, an echo from 19 years ago, during the 2006 U.S. Senate race.

That echo, found in the statements of both State Senator Jarrett Keohokalole and State Representative Della Au Belatti, is that they see themselves as challengers to the “old guard,” the “next generation” of leaders. Au Belatti said it overtly during her announcement.

Keohokalole was more nuanced, framing himself as a candidate ready to meet today’s challenges with urgency, energy, and a different style. He didn’t directly call out age or generational change, but to a tuned political ear, the undertone was there.

Back in 2006, Case — then challenging long-time Senator Dan Akaka — made the generational change argument out loud. He said Hawaii needed to begin shifting to younger leadership in Washington. What had been whispered in political circles, Case put front and center.

It backfired.

Akaka’s supporters saw the remark as disrespectful, even offensive. The generational frame became toxic, and Case spent 12 years out of office before reclaiming a seat in the House.

Now the shoe is on the other foot.

Younger candidates are challenging Case with a much more nuanced — and far less taboo — appeal to generational change. What Case once invoked against Akaka, and paid dearly for, is now tolerated, even expected, by an electorate seemingly more comfortable weighing leadership through the lenses of age, urgency, and readiness.

That shift — the very fact that voters may now accept the “age discussion” — is itself a sea change in Hawaii politics.

Still, both challengers are pinning their campaigns more on policy than on age. Their comparison-contrast with Case centers on philosophy: a progressive orientation versus his centrist record. Au Belatti underscored that message by announcing at the statue of Patsy Mink, a progressive icon who built her reputation by challenging entrenched power. While not a direct generational call, the symbolism invites voters to make that connection on their own.

Keohokalole, for his part, highlighted passion and urgency, casting Case as weighed down by institutional inertia. He left voters to decide whether that sounded like an age critique, while making clear he believes he can move more quickly to address Hawaii’s problems.

Two questions come from the announcements, therefore. First, will the voters factor in age into their decision matrix of who will win the primary for that seat? Keep in mind that while age might be a thing, Case and his campaign will emphasize seniority and the fact that he is able to use that to both get things done in Congress and make sure that the benefit goes to Hawaii.

Case, for his part, counters the ‘energy’ critique by holding multiple events whenever he’s back in Hawaii. During his most recent recess, he even appeared before the State Senate to answer questions — not exactly the schedule of someone slowing down. That takes a bit of energy, regardless of whether you are in your early 40s (Keohokalole), early 50s (Au Belatti), or early 70s (Case).

The second question is whether Hawaii is ready for representational change in Congress. When Case was challenged in 2022 by Sergio Alcubilla, voters overwhelmingly reaffirmed him: he won 83.2% in the Democratic primary and then took the general election by an even larger margin. The issues Alcubilla raised — many of which are resurfacing now — didn’t gain traction then. The difference in this cycle is that two challengers are carrying those themes instead of one. If the voters’ calculus shifts on those issues, this primary could go from sleeper to interesting.

The difference now is that Case faces not one but two challengers pressing the same themes. Whether voters see that as a fresh chorus or just an old tune with new singers will be the real test of 2025.

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Photo Credits:
Case: U.S. House Office of Photography/House Creative Services, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Au Belatti: ThinkTech Hawaii, CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Keohokalole: ThinkTech Hawaii, CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Just before the end of a conference in Chicago on Wednesday, September 10, phones started vibrating with breaking news. By the time this blogger got back to the hotel room a few minutes away, the first instinct was to turn on the TV and find out what had happened to Turning Point USA (TPUSA) founder Charlie Kirk.

The reports came quickly: Kirk had been shot in the neck and rushed to the hospital. Moments later, President Trump confirmed through a post that Kirk had passed away from an assassin’s bullet.

The immediate thought was clear—this would dominate the news cycle for days. Social media was filled with reactions, commentators scrambled for airtime, and speculation ran wild. From this blogger’s experience, it was best to wait, watch, and see what other stories would emerge from this tragedy.

Before getting to the “story within the story,” though, a word on the assassination itself.

As someone who also uses media to share stories and opinions, I understand the power of words. They can confront injustice or be wielded against the author. That is where disagreement should remain—through voices, not violence. To silence someone with a weapon instead of with an argument is simply wrong. Whatever one thought of Kirk’s views, he had the right to speak them. And many others had the right to respond in turn.

For a stretch of months, I even tuned in to his show during the morning drive, just to hear what a prominent voice in the “Make America Great Again” movement was saying. It was more often than rare that this blogger would verbally say that he was wrong in what he said, or thought that he was so myopic to think certain things, that I figured he was just talking to his audience, and not to someone like me.

With all that, and the various commercials he would put out talking up his right-of-center sponsors, he had resources, reach, and influence—and he was taken down by an assassin’s bullet, perhaps because of it.

Shock may dominate the headlines now, but as days go by, the spotlight will turn to succession. Kirk’s death raises an inevitable question: what happens now to TPUSA and the media platform he built?

The first issue is leadership. It is unlikely that Kirk had left behind a detailed plan for what would happen if he passed. Both the TPUSA organization and his talk show now face the question of who will step in.

Names are already surfacing. Ben Shapiro was quick to declare—in a Facebook post—that he would “pick up the blood-stained microphone” where Kirk left it. Soon after, Kirk’s wife made clear she would continue to champion the causes he fought for. And President Trump, deeply involved from the start, ordered flags flown at half-staff and dispatched Vice President JD Vance to return Kirk’s body to Arizona for burial. The funeral is expected to draw Trump and others in his administration.

These gestures underscore the weight of Kirk’s political and media empire. Someone will inherit it—and the choice will shape what TPUSA looks like in the post-Kirk era.

There is precedent. When Rush Limbaugh, the voice of conservative talk radio, passed away, the question of succession loomed. His microphone was eventually taken up by Clay Travis and Buck Sexton, though Limbaugh’s show was owned by a corporate network.

TPUSA, by contrast, is a nonprofit. Its board of directors, not a corporate entity, will decide its next leader. Until his death, Kirk was CEO. The board includes:

• Justin Streiff, Chief Operating Officer
• Marina Minas, Chief Marketing Officer
• Justin Olson, Chief Financial Officer
• Dr. Hutz Herzberg, Chief Education Officer
• Lauren Toncich, Vice President of Events

That group now faces the task of choosing a successor who can not only manage the organization but also project its message effectively in the media. Whoever steps forward will not simply replace Kirk; they will set the direction for the movement he amplified.

History suggests that when a singular media figure exits, the platform is never the same. Breitbart became something different after Andrew Breitbart’s death. The Huffington Post recalibrated without Arianna Huffington. Rush Limbaugh’s voice still echoes louder than his successors. Charlie Kirk’s passing now poses the same challenge for TPUSA: can an organization built on his energy adapt to new leadership, or will it remain frozen as a reflection of its founder?

That is why succession, even now with preparations for the final resting for Mr. Kirk happening, will be something to follow.

A couple of weeks back, the folks at Beat of Hawaii (BOH)issued an article titled “Why Hawaiian Airlines Failed: A Story of Planes, Promises, And Pride”. In it, the two gentlemen at BOH laid out a case where the airline was either too poor or too stubborn to pivot for survival, thus leading it to be bought out by Alaska Airlines.

BOH’s argument boils down to this: Hawaiian’s leadership (at that time under CEO Peter Ingram) clung to outdated strategies — sticking with widebodies while competitors like Alaska built an efficient Hawaii network on narrowbodies. In their telling, that stubbornness sealed Hawaiian’s fate.

In a response this blogger made to a friend, who also is a watcher of commercial aviation in Hawaii, it was noted that some of BOH’s points have merit. But their larger conclusion leans too heavily on hindsight. By flattening complex circumstances into a neat morality play, they give Hawaiian Air too little credit for trying to adapt to factors it couldn’t control — and too much blame for decisions that, at the time, made sense.

In other words, the story attempted to use a neat narrative to describe the outcome, but left out pieces that, in context, made business decisions that made sense. Letʻs explain

Before COVID slammed the industry like an 18-wheeler barrelling down H1 at 90 mph, in March of 2020, the strategy of Hawaiianʻs fleet use and destinations was a bellwether of success. Their approach to bringing the Asian tourism market to Hawaii kept load factors steady. In their approach, the airline was able to quickly determine whether a route was a winner (most of the Japan routes) and which ones couldnʻt make it (Manila, Philippines, Taipei, Taiwan).

With COVID, the airline, along with everyone else in tourism, was looking for two things: the first was the reopening of tourism to Hawaii from anywhere. That happened first with the West Coast, which spiked the minute the State of Hawaii set up the COVID protocols when arriving. Economists assumed Japan would return in a few years.

What few foresaw was the yen collapsing nearly 50% against the dollar, making U.S. trips prohibitively expensive for Japanese travelers. That single factor, combined with Hawaii’s strict shutdowns, crippled the market Hawaiian depended. And that, even today, is still an issue plaguing the entire Hawaii tourism industry.

Now, provided that Hawaiian did think that its unique service model for passengers would rue the day when it came to airline choices, the fact is, forces beyond its control dictated travel behavior.

But even then, Hawaiian would still try to work its magic, if not for Japan, to other places. And Hawaiian did pivot. Routes to Orlando and Austin weren’t random gambles — they were deliberate attempts to replace lost Asian demand with new continental markets. That’s not the behavior of an airline clinging to the past. It’s the behavior of one fighting to adapt in impossible circumstances. One can easily argue that they tried all they could, once they realized it, to build new markets.

Going to the comparison that BOH made to Alaskaʻs strategy, and holding up their model as the one Hawaiian should have followed, the comparison (and potential relative success of it) only goes so far.

Alaska is, at its core, even today, a domestic carrier. It’s Hawaii playbook — West Coast routes on narrowbody planes — fit its network, cost structure, and customer base. Hawaiian, by contrast, was (and still is in name) an international-level airline. Its goal wasn’t just to fly Angelenos to Maui. It was to connect Tokyo, Seoul, Sydney, and beyond to Honolulu. Different strategies for different markets.

Yes, Hawaiian may have been late to adopt the Airbus A321neo. Yes, the interisland Boeing 717 aircraft replacement plan was muddled. But those were secondary to the macroeconomic and pandemic shocks. Suggesting, though, that Hawaiian “failed” because it didn’t become Alaska misses the fundamental point: it wasn’t trying to be Alaska.

Finally, a financing factor needs to be discussed – not in terms of revenue and expenses, but more about access to capital. As this blogger wrote last year about Hawaiian’s prospects for a new continental hub, the airline simply didnʻt have a lot of cash like Alaska did before the buyout. That limited its ability to get funding from markets or use its existing funds to expand. 

The challenge Hawaiian faced was that, with it being stretched already with debt for new airplanes (A321, Boeing 787s), along with a notably smaller revenue base, any attempt at a pivot would have very little margin for error.

So the airline, seeing its actions in this context, did what it could, with what it had.

At the end, Hawaiian Airlines, as an independent airline in the United States, didn’t fail, or at least didnʻt in the way BOH relays it. It was trying to address a quickly shifting market that no one could have predicted, and in the end got caught in forces that were beyond its control.

Turning Hawaiian’s story into a morality play might make for easy headlines, but it does little justice to the reality. The airline wasn’t blindsided by its own arrogance — it was sideswiped by Covid, by Hawaii’s own prolonged shutdowns, by Japan’s deep and ongoing economic struggles. To say it “failed” because it didn’t copy Alaska is to confuse hindsight with analysis.

What took Hawaiian down, instead, was a world that shifted underneath it. In that light, Hawaiian didn’t “fail.” It carried Hawaii as far as it could, until forces beyond its control became just too much.

And that, more than any headline, is the real story.

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The story about Hawaiian Airlines’ buyout by Alaska was covered by this blog from the month that the announcement came down on a Sunday in December. The series of reports was a second-place winner in the “Column Writing or Blog/Features or Sports” category in the 2024 Hawaii Chapter of the Society of Professional Journalism awards given out last July.