When most people think of Honolulu, they think of Waikiki, surfing and shopping, or Pearl Harbor and the USS Arizona Memorial. I’m not sure that many overseas visitors ever make it to the downtown area, which doesn’t feature strongly in the tourist literature. It’s a pity, because between S. King and S. Beretania Streets is a lovely area of parkland, dotted with buildings that embody the civic history of the Hawaiian capital.

Foremost among these is the Iolani Palace, the only royal palace on U.S. soil. The palace was built in 1882 by King David Kalākaua, the second-last Hawaiian monarch, and expressed his confidence in the future of the royal family and of Hawaii itself as an independent, sovereign nation.

It’s a splendid building, lovingly restored. The sweeping central wooden staircase, golden thrones, fine ceiling moldings and glittering glassware all suggest power and opulence, but also refinement and good taste. King Kalākaua was a technophile who had his palace fitted out with all the mod cons of the day, including a flushing toilet and dumb waiter. Iolani Palace even had electric lighting installed, earlier than either the White House or Buckingham Palace!

King Kalākaua and his siblings were creative, energetic, curious people, eager to learn new things and adapt to new ways, without losing sight of their indigenous heritage. Tragically, none of this was enough to prevent the so-called Bayonet Constitution of 1887, whereby the Hawaiian monarchy was compelled to cede most of its powers to members of the American- based business elites that had established a profitable sugar industry in Hawaii.

The perpetrators of the Bayonet Constitution believed they were acting in accordance with the inexorable march of progress, but their critics saw the events of 1887 as a morally indefensible grab for power, an expression of U.S. imperialism. Six years later, a coup d’etat led by the same business interests deposed the last Hawaiian monarch, Queen Liliuokalani, and the overthrow of Hawaiian independence was complete.

In a cruel twist, Iolani Palace became Queen Liliuokalani’s prison, when she was kept there under house arrest for over a year, after her supporters made a failed attempt to restore the monarchy in 1895. The quilt she sewed to pass the days is on display at Iolani Palace, its homespun simplicity poignantly contrasting with the other textile works on show, the magnificent ball gowns and state outfits she wore as Queen.

In 1993, President Bill Clinton signed ‘an apology to Native Hawaiians on behalf of the United States for the overthrow of the Kingdom of Hawaii’. The document admitted that the acts committed in Honolulu by U.S. citizens in 1893 had been illegal. It also acknowledged that ‘the indigenous Hawaiian people never directly relinquished their claims to their inherent sovereignty’.

The displays, interpretive boards and sound recordings at Iolani Palace convey strong emotions of sadness and betrayal about the course of events that paved the way for Hawaii’s incorporation into the United States. It’s hard not to come away with the feeling that a vital and resilient culture was unnecessarily destroyed, in the cause of greed and racism.

Outside the palace Queen Liliuokalani’s statue stands proudly. I noticed a bright red fresh hibiscus flower had been placed in her outstretched hand. I also noticed that the inscription at the base of the statue records her reign as lasting from 1891 until 1917 – the year of her death, not her deposition. There are no statues for the conspirators who stole her kingdom.