A constitution is often called an "organic document," meaning that it's essential to the basic structure and function of government. Tinkering too frequently with the structure could compromise the health of the body politic.

But it's also true that the structures of government can need adjustment to adapt to changing needs of the people it represents.

Hawai'i will have another chance to give its Constitution a good, hard look in what would be the first Constitutional Convention in 30 years. The time has come to do so.

Certainly, voters need to understand how a ConCon could provide solutions to Hawai'i's pressing problems that have eluded politicians elected to regular public office.

But the discussion so far has focused, unhelpfully, on the potential price tag: A task force has issued a report estimating a convention will cost between $2 million and $11 million.

But costs can't be analyzed without an understanding of the benefits.

Since the last convention in 1978, conditions in the state have changed radically. Energy prices and the decline of large agricultural concerns are pressuring the state to retool its economic engines. Development has put limited resources under strain, which demands a focus on more sustainable living; an ambitious state goal to cut fossil-fuel consumption by 70 percent by 2030 arose from this reality.

Homegrown employment opportunities will have to come from new, less resource-dependent sectors such as high technology.

Hawai'i is at a crossroads, and the private sector alone can't point the way to meet these challenges.

Is the state government structured in a way that allows it to respond nimbly enough? Should county administrations have greater autonomy? Should we establish new statewide agencies — a Department of Energy, for instance — that will meet the challenges facing the next generation?

A ConCon is designed to answer the needs of its time. In 1978, for instance, the Office of Hawaiian Affairs was created to address the concerns of Native Hawaiians. Another ConCon will enable a search for answers by people bringing fresh eyes to the issues.

That's why delegates should not be the same politicians who now hold the reins; instead, incumbents should stand aside and allow for a "people's ConCon," similar to the one in 1978. Such delegates can confront questions an incumbent may find inconvenient: Can ethics reform make politicians more accountable? Could a fully established public campaign-financing system open the doors to better candidates? Should legislative office become a full-time job, with a full-time salary? Could a reordering of the lawmaking body itself — with multi-member districts or even a shift to a unicameral Legislature — improve performance?

To do justice to such matters, a larger delegation, rather than an elite group, would be essential. If costs are a concern, they should not be trimmed at the expense of broad participation.

Savings should come from elsewhere. The use of the state Capitol between sessions would save on the leasing of office equipment.

Delegates will need dedicated staff support, but supplemental staff could be loaned by the state administration to help reduce expenditures.

Critics of the ConCon worry that it will open Pandora's box and that some protections enshrined in the Constitution — for labor unions, native rights, privacy rights — could be whittled away.

But there are safeguards: Not only do changes have to pass the convention, they have to be ratified by voters. And no change must be permanent; lawmakers can address changes in a regular legislative session.

The question shouldn't be whether a ConCon incurs risk, but whether the potential benefit outweighs that risk.

And given that a convention would bring government closer to home for a new generation of voters, Hawai'i has reached the tipping point.