The club is proud of this story, which many of the staff repeated to me over the course of my visit. Kohanaiki members pay into this effort as part of their membership dues: It’s the fantasy of public-infrastructure renewal funded by billionaires that is the stuff of both left- and right-wing dreams. And the members are duly rewarded for their good works.

When I got to our expansive three-bedroom manor—the hale, in local parlance—I poked my nose in every nook and drawer like a good Asian, uncovering expensive cookware, tampons, red-wine-stain remover, and a freezer drawer full of Häagen-Dazs ice cream bars (!!!). The sounds of ukulele and yacht rock filled the air while a gigantic flat-screen television silently displayed a Lakers game in the living room. I left in search of people and found myself in the Clubhouse, the 67,000-square-foot centerpiece of the campus. The space felt like a child’s rendering of their dream house, complete with an audacious arrangement of video-game rooms; a bowling alley; a 21-seat movie theater set with hot dogs, candy, and popcorn; a pool; various spa and fitness centers; and a full-service restaurant. The basement’s atrium featured a museum-like display of Hawaiian crafts and books among all the residents’ personal wine lockers. I was free to indulge in any and all of it, for as long as I wanted. I couldn’t help thinking of my past struggles to seek out public spaces free from the obligation to spend money to justify my existence. Here, you pay up front for the privilege of space, so little transactions don’t matter.

Courtesy of Kohanaiki Courtesy of Kohanaiki

At the restaurant and in the little shops at the Clubhouse, there was no tipping, no cash registers, no indignity of pulling out a wallet. The concept of money feels more distant here, without constant reminders of how much things cost, and yet it’s still everywhere, soaked into the walls and into the ever-present glow of deservingness hovering over anyone who is used to being invited to such things. In this context, cash seems to take on a feeling of obscenity: Why mess around with small bills when a phone call can arrange basketball tickets or a handshake over lunch can signify an exchange of millions of dollars? Without having to worry about money, everything expands. Go ahead and take all the chips you want.

Kohanaiki’s team know that this is a central part of the appeal. As Kohanaiki CEO Joe Root boasts in an interview with Bloomberg, "Our philosophy on food and beverage is to pretty much get people whatever they want, wherever they want it, whenever they want it.” This applies whether you want a glass of a rare wine with your dinner or if you’d prefer last month’s sushi-roll special to tonight’s. No wonder, as multiple people told me, no one really leaves the complex. It seems insane to want to rip yourself away from this sense of abundance and devotion, to re-enter the debased reality where you have to stand in line or order from a menu that might not have exactly what you want. When I spoke to Kohanaiki’s executive chef, Patrick Heymann, he confirmed Root’s philosophy with a grin: “I always say the answer is ‘Yes.’ Now, what’s the question?” It suffices to say that the restaurants here don’t make that much of a profit—not that it matters.

As I spoke to the staff, I increasingly found it hard to reconcile that philosophy with Kohanaiki’s sustainability narrative. We know that the American lifestyle takes up more natural resources than that of any other country in the world. So does it really matter how many anchialine ponds and reefs are preserved when companies like Kukio and Kohanaiki are racking up food miles by flying in fresh uni from Japan or live Maine lobsters at the behest of their clients’ whims? Does the solar-powered reverse-osmosis water-filtration system, which supplies the golf course with the million gallons of water it needs every day, offset the outsize amount of human and material resources devoted to the happiness of each resident here? Perhaps it’s ridiculous to consider this in terms of an ethical balance, but the “intelligent sustainability” of Kohanaiki is clearly a major part of their image; the property begs the question.