What Maui’s slow recovery means for L.A., rest of the U.S.

LAHAINA, Hawaii - It’s quiet again. Construction crews have hauled away toxic debris, but entire neighborhoods still sit empty. Only six homes have been rebuilt in the county. Much of the town sits in the purgatory between the all-out emergency from 18 months ago, and whatever comes next.

The wildfires that ripped through Maui in August 2023 killed more than 100 people, destroyed more than 2,200 structures and displaced 12,000. But the months since have given way to a different kind of crisis - of grinding bureaucracy, soaring housing costs and growing frustration. It’s also a forecast, experts say, for what is likely ahead in Los Angeles, just beginning this fraught ordeal after fires there last month. Testifying before Hawaii’s state legislature in January, Maui County Mayor Richard T. Bissen Jr. offered a “heartfelt aloha” to Californians as they “begin to confront the overwhelming journey of recovery and rebuilding.”

Lahaina and the surrounding county have come far from the immediate crisis: hundreds of homes cleared of debris, basic services restored, millions of dollars allocated in federal aid. But residents still say they are stuck in the slog. Permits - a crucial step to constructing a house or business - take months or longer to come through. Only a handful of people have finished rebuilding, and many others aren’t sure if they can as they navigate a dizzying maze of zoning and construction rules. Housing costs are skyrocketing. And as time ticks by, beloved places like Front Street, once an iconic commercial and residential hub, sit idle and dusty, with clear views of the Pacific Ocean where buildings used to be.

“We’re at the point now where we should have been a year ago,” said Warren Freeland, whose family lost the historic Pioneer Inn in Lahaina’s wildfires.

Some challenges are unique to Maui, one of the world’s most remote islands with a rich spiritual and cultural history. Others have unfolded wherever disaster hits - Paradise, Puerto Rico, Asheville. And now Los Angeles. More than five weeks after a disastrous firestorm consumed entire communities there, a slow recovery has begun. Toxic debris removal is underway in the Palisades and Altadena neighborhoods, where the largest of the fires burned through almost 40,000 acres. On some rubble-strewn streets, the next phase - clearing heaps of what remains - is getting started, and officials have said they’ll push to complete that in a year.

In Maui, that timeline has only made it harder for people to recover from watching their town burn. Even lifelong residents have no clear answers on what to do.

When Joe Pluta’s smoke detector woke him up that August night, his house was already ablaze. He jumped out his bedroom window and ran, embers swirling around him. The 75-year-old has deep ties in Lahaina, including as the president of the West Maui Taxpayers Association. But the toll of rebuilding proved too much.

After months of uncertainty, he decided to sell his lot to a neighbor whose bed-and-breakfast next door was destroyed. He may buy again if more homes become available and prices simmer down, or not.

“It’s still tremendously stressful, and emotionally painful and expensive, and complicated,” Pluta said. “I’m just too worn out to deal with all of that.”

After a wildfire, there’s often a life cycle to recovery. That starts with an immediate emergency response, like cleaning up toxic waste and moving survivors into hotels or shelters. In Maui, that has included clearing all 1,390 homes of debris. Placards from the Environmental Protection Agency and U.S. Army Corps of Engineers identify where hazards were hauled away.

But the next phase can get murkier. Insurance payouts dribble out. Scammers and price gougers promising quick turnarounds flock into communities in distress. Local officials make initial decisions about what to rebuild first. And impatience boils over, said Jennifer Gray Thompson, chief executive of After the Fire, which supports wildfire survivors. Full recovery can take five years or more, she said.

She said it’s not that Lahaina’s efforts are particularly slow, but “this stage of disaster that they are currently in is always, always frustrating.”

The permitting process has become a major roadblock for people eager to rebuild homes and businesses. The process can cost hundreds of thousands of dollars in land assessments and other research, and requires extensive documentation. Once submitted, there’s often no way to know when or whether they’ll be approved.

It was a milestone when Lahaina’s first house was reconstructed in November. But entire neighborhoods are still leveled and silent. As of Feb. 3, 290 residential permits had been issued in Lahaina and Kula, and 125 were in review, according to the county. Five permits for nonresidential properties, which include commercial buildings, had been issued in Lahaina, and 136 were in review. Construction has started on 162 properties in Lahaina and Kula, according to the County Recovery Permit Center.

In his public testimony, Bissen pointed to the ways Maui has moved out of the emergency phase. Water services have been fully restored ahead of schedule. New housing developments are underway. A private permitting company helped cut wait times.

Congress also allocated $1.6 billion for housing on Maui, and another $480 million for other needs. A long-term recovery plan outlines ways to improve health and social services, the economic recovery, housing, cultural resources and infrastructure.

But Bissen said permits still need to get approved faster, adding he and his colleagues “get calls every week, and it’s always having to do with a permit that’s stuck someplace.” He added: “It’s a real issue that I feel like we all deal with.”

A few local and state rules might smooth the process. One bill would let people rebuild properties that don’t conform to current codes but were legal when they were first built. The county also agreed to exempt certain properties inland of Front Street from certain rules.

Freeland, of the Pioneer Inn, estimates just one of his building permits could cost around $500,000. He’s worried local rules may still change and cause him to start the process all over - a worry multiple businesses owners echoed - so he’s waiting for final legislation to shake out. Until then, all that remains of the hotel on Front Street is a historic plaque, an old ship anchor that sat in the corner of the lot and a few pots that were used for rendering whale blubber generations ago.

“If these things go through, we have a path forward,” Freeland said. “It’s a very difficult path anyway. But there would be a path. And that is what was missing.”

In Lahaina, charting that path also means reckoning with a long history of colonialism and the exclusion of Native Hawaiians. Centuries ago, Lahaina was the capital of the Hawaiian Kingdom, and holds significant spiritual and cultural meaning to locals.

Pa’ele Kiakona lost his grandmother’s house in the fires, a gathering place through seven generations. He wants to rebuild, but is also focused on making sure the broader recovery doesn’t exclude the native population once again. He is particularly focused on curbing the number of short-term rentals and preventing the tourism industry from extracting Hawaiian culture.

“We really need to be focusing on policy and a structure that aims to keep our people here,” said Kiakona, who is also part of the local community advocacy group Lahaina Strong. “Every disaster is an opportunity to have a corrective. And I see this as an opportunity to right a lot of the wrongs that were done to our people.”

Much of the frustration in Lahaina stems from what has happened to the housing market, which was already tight because of short-term rentals and construction hurdles. The fires dashed any remaining sense of affordability, locals say. Typical rent in Maui County hit $3,739 in December, up 8% from the year before, according to Zillow. Rents in Lahaina clocked in even higher, at $4,319 - well past the national rate of $1,965. About 1,000 people have left Maui altogether, driven in part by the escalating affordability crisis, according to research from the University of Hawai’i.

There are signs of a similar crisis in Los Angeles County since the fires there destroyed some 10,000 homes. Rent spiked by 20% in the immediate aftermath, according to a Washington Post analysis, raising alarms of price gouging as victims scrambled for somewhere to go.

But many here still look to California’s response with envy. Immediately after the disaster, Gov. Gavin Newsom (D) promised to “cut red tape,” including by waiving certain regulatory and environmental laws so Los Angeles fire victims could rebuild faster, though the move has stoked some criticism from those fearful the fires could happen again.

But it’s also what Lynn Barr wants to hear. She’s pushing to rebuild her Lahaina home along the water, lining up contractors and tracking down the original architecture plans. But she’s been kept from rebuilding because of a new rule tied to sea-level rise. If she wants to stay, one of her few options is to build at the very edge of her property - maybe enough room for a garage with an apartment on top, she said.

She insists the sea wall protects her property from rising water and makes the rule unnecessary. Plus, she worries more about the hazards from fire.

“Let’s get going,” Barr said. “I just want to see some heavy equipment out here. Look how quiet it is.”

There’s a bit more activity at Gildardo Castillo’s lot up the hillside. After a few months’ wait, his permit came through last fall. He’s re-creating what his family used to have, but simpler: three bedrooms and an “ohana,” another small property on his lot, to rent to someone who needs it.

Just before New Year’s, a contractor got to work. Castillo, who runs a housekeeping company with his wife, expects it will all still take time. But he has a goal: to move in by Aug. 8, the fires’ second anniversary.

“That will be my dream,” he said.