On Feb. 2, Del Monte Fresh Produce announced the closing of its pineapple plantation in Hawai'i, effectively marking a painful point in our state's plantation history. This plantation at Kunia has figured prominently in Hawai'i's history, and its closure will have a deep and significant economic and social impact on our Island society.

The closure means the end of a lifestyle for these plantation families, most of whom have lived in these plantation communities for generations. They know no other way of life.

The eviction notices have begun to arrive. Mine arrived last week.

Kunia is the oldest and largest pineapple plantation in Hawai'i. More than 100 years ago, the pineapple industry began on small, scattered farms in the Wahiawa area. One of the farms was operated by the Eames family. It expanded to first become California Packing Corp. and later, Del Monte's Kunia plantation.

This plantation, as well as the other pineapple and sugar plantations, has played an important role in shaping Hawai'i's history. The waves of immigrant workers account for our multicultural heritage; the plantation experience molded the pidgin we speak and the food we eat.

During its long history, the Kunia plantation attracted a dedicated and hard-working workforce. It was common for sons and daughters to follow in their parents' footsteps in the planting and harvesting of pineapple. The workers proudly maintained the plantation traditions of a strong work ethic and closely held family values. The most attractive job benefit was a house on the plantation. Now, with the closing of the plantation, these homes have become pawns in a tense and emotional struggle between management and workers.

For years, Del Monte's Kunia plantation has been the powerhouse in Hawaiian agriculture. According to statistics from the state Department of Agriculture for 2005, Del Monte has been the No. 1 agricultural employer in the state for more than a generation. From its 5,000 acres of crop land in Central O'ahu, it exports 75,000 tons of fresh fruit each year to the Mainland. The annual value of the crop is $50 million. There are no substitute crops waiting in the wings to replace the acreage being left vacant by pineapple.

The labor union that represents pineapple workers, the ILWU, estimates that 600 employees will lose their jobs as a result of the closing. Assuming each worker has a spouse and three dependents, this translates into 3,000 people being directly affected. And 25 percent are residents of company housing who face eviction in addition to losing their jobs.

About 75 percent live in the nearby communities of Poamoho Camp, Whitmore Village, Wahiawa and Waipahu. For many in the latter group, the loss of income could make it difficult for them to pay their rents or mortgages, and could result in additional evictions. Thus, it is conceivable that 3,000 people in Central O'ahu could be without income, homes or health insurance.

That places a staggering burden on social agencies. And many left homeless would be forced to migrate elsewhere. Is this what we want for Hawai'i? The pain, the displacement, whole families in upheaval — it's just wrong. It's easy to say that we are just plantation workers, just a part of a dying industry. Look harder. We're your neighbors: mothers and fathers; sons and daughters; aunties and uncles. We've worked hard all of our lives. We might not have much, but it's all that we have.

Clearly, our government must step in to help the pineapple workers.

Gov. Linda Lingle, in addressing the media at the Capitol on Feb. 16, expressed support for the pineapple workers and explained that these problems need to be tackled while the workers still live in these affordable homes — not after they have been made homeless. With this in mind, state Sen. Ron Menor, D-17th (Mililani, Waipi'o) has introduced legislation to help workers remain in the current homes to minimize dislocation and disruption. City Council Chairman Donovan Dela Cruz is sponsoring a related resolution at the council. The success of these efforts will require cooperation from the major stakeholders, Del Monte, the Campbell Estate (the landowner), the ILWU, the Kunia Camp Association, the city & county and state governments. This group could address issues of housing, retraining and other impacts now before the closing.

The stumbling block here is Del Monte. There has been little communication from Del Monte. Clearly, Del Monte needs a push toward the table to facilitate a smooth transition for all involved.

There is a simple reason why the threat of social disruption is much greater with Del Monte than with the two major sugar plantations that closed on O'ahu in the 1990s. That reason is the different management attitude toward workers and the community.

Senior managers at Del Monte are veteran businessmen who are looking to cut their losses and quickly leave Hawai'i. They are from Costa Rica and will return to Central America as the plantation closes. They have demonstrated very little concern for housing or retraining issues. Two years ago, for example, they moved to evict the workers in company housing at Poamoho Camp and bulldoze their homes. This is dramatically different than the closing of Oahu Sugar and Waialua Sugar plantations. In those cases, the managers were popular figures who cooperated with other stakeholders to minimize negative impacts on their workers. After the closings, both managers pursued careers in public service and made valuable contributions to our society.

The Del Monte closure presents a crisis. It's time for our elected leaders to persuade Del Monte to cooperate with other stakeholders in a transition plan that minimizes evictions and other dislocations — before it's too late.