Bracing for the aftermath and reckoning with reality: Post-Dorian Development in The Bahamas

Lauren Duffy, Ph.D. - RESET Research Fellow

Disaster can remind us of the tragic socioeconomic inequalities that exist in many of tourism destinations in the Global South. In the wake of Hurricane Dorian, the question becomes how those vulnerabilities are exploited in the vacuum of the destruction.

The crisis: The state of the response

The road going to East End Grand Bahama, trees completely killed from the flood waters. (Personal photo Dr. Alana Dillette)

The road going to East End Grand Bahama, trees completely killed from the flood waters. (Personal photo Dr. Alana Dillette)

Over the last month, stories, reports, and photos across media outlets have given us glimpses into one of the worst natural disasters that the Caribbean region has ever seen. Moving at a painfully slow speed of seven miles per hour, Hurricane Dorian was one of the strongest storms to make landfall in the Atlantic, leaving a path of devastation that is consistent with that of a 30-mile wide tornado. At its peak, there were sustained winds 185 miles per hour, with gusts registering at 220. The official loss of life remains at 56[i], but as the island continues to come to terms with the scope of the devastation, Duane Sands, Minister of Health for The Bahamas warned a week after the storm that, “[t]he public needs to prepare for unimaginable information about the death toll and the human suffering[ii]. Much like the memories many of us hold of the ‘Xs’ that the U.S. Federal Emergency Management Agency’s Urban Search and Response Team marked on doors of homes in New Orleans, Louisiana, USA in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina[iii], search and rescuers are spraying ‘Cs’ on doors of structures that remain standing, indicating the building had been searched with no causalities found; ‘Ds’, however, are marking buildings where the dead have been found. Most calamitous, though, was the storm surge that rose to 20-feet above sea level, accounting for many of the 600 people who remain missing, likely washed out to sea [iv]. At the time of writing this, there is an estimated 1.5 billion pounds of debris – from homes and offices which were flattened by the winds and sea surge – that alone will cost upwards of $74 million to clear and remove. Further, the preliminary estimations of property loss are around $7 billion, with only half of this damaged property being insured ($4 billion in loss in Abaco, $2 billion in Grand Bahama, and $1 billion in New Providence)[v]

Source:  Bahamas Ministry of Tourism and Aviation . (2019). Islands Of The Bahamas Facebook Page.

Source: Bahamas Ministry of Tourism and Aviation. (2019). Islands Of The Bahamas Facebook Page.

Following the storm, that only hit two of the 30 inhabited islands that make up The Bahamas, the tourism industry dropped across the country. According to the World Travel and Tourism Council, in 2017, tourism accounted for 47.8% in total contribution to the country’s GDP and over 55.7% of total employment[i]. It is, without a doubt, the most important industry for the country and similar to its Caribbean neighbors, it is economically tourism-dependent. The Bahamas typically ranks fourth in the Caribbean region in terms of tourism’s direct total contribution to GDP (behind the Dominican Republic, Cuba, and Jamaica). And before Hurricane Dorian arrived, it was set to be a record year with 4.5 million visitors – 700,000 who had been to the two affected islands – during the first seven months of 2019[ii]. Abaco and Grand Bahama accounted for 19% of the country’s room supply (which does not reflect the sharing economy or cruise tourism)[iii]; minimally, then, we can assume that increased efforts to redirect this tourism demand to other parts of the country will be part of the recovery strategy.

The immediate crisis communication responses led by the Director General of the Ministry of Tourism and Aviation, Joy Jibrilu, have been some of the most effective that I have personally witnessed in wake of a disaster. In step with Prime Minister Hubert Minnis, the Ministry of Tourism and Aviation has played a substantial role in messaging and communicating recovery efforts, so much so that the – the official relief page for the country – is platformed off of the Official Site of The Bahamas ( The initial campaigns included a simple map of the entire country relative to the two affected islands, subtly providing a basic geography lesson to everyone. Their main message has been that The Bahamas is ‘Open for Business’: as Jibrilu stated, “[m]ost of the country’s islands are open to visitors, and those tourists are badly needed.”[i] Following this lead, both formal and informal messaging from the island appeared: “we are battered, but not broken” and “in unity we will be stronger” were some of the messages in Prime Minister Minnis’s earliest national addresses to the public[ii]; other media campaigns that transcended platforms, such as #BahamasStrong, spread quickly. Notably, other private companies and businesses also tapped into this effort, including the #TravelforLove campaign promoted by The Atlantis based in Nassau, New Providence[iii]. By all accounts, the efforts led by the Ministry and partnering tourism organizations has been received positively with responses from customers reflecting this sentiment: “We will come back sooner than planned to support The Bahamas.”

Critical question: Who benefits from the rebuild?

Over the last week or so, the stories and images from Great Abaco and Grand Bahama have quietly exited prime time news cycles. Great and necessary work continues to be executed by aid and relief organizations and Prime Minister Minnis emphasized the need for accountability, fairness, and respect in continued relief efforts[i]. However, with a critical lens, we need to be asking, what happens next?

Much like Hurricane Katrina, Hurricane Dorian brought to the public’s attention to the socio-economic inequalities within The Bahamas. There were those who could evacuate the islands before the storm arrived, and those who had little choice but to stay, many of whom attempted to ride out the storm in makeshift homes within the shantytowns of Sand Banks, the Mudd, Pigeon Peas, and the Farm. There were those who had property insurance that will provide a basis for personal and business recovery, and those who simply did not.

Lucayan National Park, land reclaimed completely by the sea. This walkway used to lead to an expansive white sand beach. A huge hit for the tourism industry. (Personal photo - Dr. Alana Dillette)

Lucayan National Park, land reclaimed completely by the sea. This walkway used to lead to an expansive white sand beach. A huge hit for the tourism industry. (Personal photo - Dr. Alana Dillette)

“Natural disasters often expose the gap between the haves and have nots and Dorian was no different. While The Bahamas has a reputation as one of the most desirable tourist destinations on earth, its luxury hotels and homes depend on a life support system of fishermen, hotel workers and laborers. Once again, it is the poorest who have been hardest hit when catastrophe strikes”[ii].

The Washington Post highlighted these issues using two short aerial videos shot immediately following the storm; one of Baker’s Bay, described as “an elite playground for millionaires” and the other of the Mudd in Marsh Harbor[iii]. The images tell a story of how different the lifestyles and livelihoods were between those in these two spaces. No longer can we continue to ignore the fact that there was something of a caste system that was drawn between the White, wealthy visitors from the Global North and the dark skinned, poor residents and tourism workers of the Global South. According to a 2018 government report, it was estimated that Abaco and Grand Bahama had 3,000 Haitian immigrants, 20% of whom were likely undocumented[iv]. And particularly notable is that tourism work is what attracted many of the Haitian immigrants to the location after migrating in the wake of the 2010 Haiti Earthquake. The fact of the matter is, the shantytowns across Abaco Island helped power The Bahamas tourism industry. Glen Kelly, harbor master at the Abaco Beach Resort, told the Washington Post: “I’ll put it as raw as I can. We’ve always depended on Haitian labor, legal or illegal, to maintain this place[v]. As a tourism industry, we need to consider our role in creating and maintaining such a system of exploitive workforce.

The remains of High Rock Health Center in East End Grand Bahama. (Personal photo - Dr. Alana Dillette)

The remains of High Rock Health Center in East End Grand Bahama. (Personal photo - Dr. Alana Dillette)

Further difficult to swallow is the reality that the disaster is not over for the local communities and former residents of these islands. Indeed, while they remain focused on survival day in and day out, the larger scale discussion of ‘rebuilding’ is underway. This is where the very tangled and dangerous web of national, business, and personal interests lay. Who is going to come out a winner from this? As Fraser asked “who goes down and who emerges better positioned than before: these are matters often predetermined by the structures of power and wealth, racial and ethnic hierarchies, and despised and favored forms of work, as well as moral and social prejudices in place before disaster strikes[vi].

Naomi Klein, a leading scholar on the topic, considers disaster capitalism to be an orchestrated effort in the wake of a disaster, that considers the market potential created in such a vacuum[vii]. Even more disturbing is that some plan in advance for catastrophic events such as hurricanes to maximize these economic opportunities[viii]. What is also notable is the way in which a sense of urgency and desire to return to stability, can allow for policy decisions to be made that would otherwise have never been well-received. After the initial disaster and the ‘rebuild’ begins – is when some believe the most egregious tragedies happen: those who survived are in their most vulnerable state against an agenda of disaster capitalism[ix].  

According to a report that has surfaced reflecting on the development in Barbuda after it was battered by Hurricane Irma in 2017, there has been a detectable shift in the “locus of control over development projects from Barbudans to global elites.”[x] Barbuda was notable to have maintained a sense of identity that separated it from mainstream mass tourism that is dominant in the rest of the Caribbean. In part, Barbudans controlled development as a result of communal land ownership and general policies that had limited private development. However, the push coming post-Irma is “capital-intensive luxury ecotourism-based model of development, which global elites are spinning as a post-disaster, humanitarian, ‘green’ recovery.”[xi]

High Rock police station, gutted. This was the reality for many homes on the island build of concrete - held to some of the strictest building codes in the Caribbean, the storm spared no one, but, the rebuilding process will benefit some of the more wealthy for sure. (Personal photo - Dr. Alana Dillette)

High Rock police station, gutted. This was the reality for many homes on the island build of concrete - held to some of the strictest building codes in the Caribbean, the storm spared no one, but, the rebuilding process will benefit some of the more wealthy for sure. (Personal photo - Dr. Alana Dillette)

In the case of The Bahamas, disaster capitalism could be the way in which corporate interests and private investment shape the island. We should, for example, be critical of the cruise ships role in recovery and rebuilding as they are known for creating exploitative relationships with island nations across the region[xii]; James M. Walker, a maritime lawyer who is involved in several civil lawsuits against the cruise industry was quoted in the New York Times as saying that the cruise lines were once again “taking advantage of the good publicity… offering only a pittance of relief aid to The Bahamas given the enormous revenues” that they make from allowing their guests to experience their resources.[xiii] What interests do the cruise lines have in the rebuild and what power will they execute to influence development in their favor?

This is not to say the previous arrangements were equitable, as The Bahamas did not have many of the protective policies as Barbuda had maintained for so long. Still, what is being done for the workers who have migrated to Nassau and other parts of the country? How will policy decisions help stabilize their lives as the first and most important interest? What responsibility does the Bahamian tourism industry have to the Haitian residents (documented and undocumented) who were a vital part of the workforce? With the recent government directive to not allow immediate rebuild of the shantytown communities, where will these people remain in the immediate recovery?

Source:  Bahamas Ministry of Tourism and Aviation . (2019). Islands Of The Bahamas Facebook Page.

Source: Bahamas Ministry of Tourism and Aviation. (2019). Islands Of The Bahamas Facebook Page.

Optimistically, could we imagine a country that considers the rights of the tourism workers? Could the government hold new tourism businesses more accountable for livable wages and fair housing? Could we see the former shantytowns - many of which had no running water and spotty electricity – improve in its basic infrastructure? Could we bring human rights issues to the center of the rebuilding of Abaco and Grand Bahama? Klein published a book last year about Puerto Rico’s recovery from Hurricane Maria, The Battle for Paradise: Puerto Rico on the Disaster Capitalists. What she witnessed there also raises hope for those beginning the recovery process in The Bahamas; residents coming together in grassroots movements to organize their collective power to influence future development in ways in which they desired [xiv].

Only time will tell as to what is in store for the communities within Abaco and Grand Bahama will look like, but for the sake of those most vulnerable after a disaster, let’s not stop paying attention.

[i] Chavez, N. & Thomas, C. (September 27, 2019). 600 people are still missing in the Bahamas weeks after Hurricane Dorian. CNN. Retrieved from

[ii] BBC News (September 6, 2019). Hurrican Dorian: Bahamas death toll expected to be ‘staggering’. Retrieved from

[iii] Miller, C. (2013). X marks the spot: decoding the Hurricane Katrina X through urban memory of New Orleans residents. Unpublished Masters Thesis. University of Georgia, Athens.

[iv] Ailworth, E. (September 22, 2019). Opening the Door to Hell itself: Bahamas confronts life after Hurricane Dorian. Wall Street Journal. Retrieved from

[v] Karen Clark & Company (September 4, 2019). KCC Special Report: Hurricane Dorian Impacts on the Bahamas. Retrieved from

[vi] World Travel and Tourism Council. (2019). Travel and Tourism Economic Impact 2018. Retrieved from

[vii] Sampson, H. (September 11, 2019). The Bahamas wants you to know it’s still open for business. Washington Post. Retrieved from

[viii] Durbin, D. & Gomez Licon, A. (September 7, 2019). Tourism-dependent Bahamas says it’s still open for business. Associated Press News. Retrieved from

[ix] Sampson, The Bahamas.

[x] Office of the Prime Minister, The Bahamas (September 11, 2019). National Address. Retrieved from

[xi] Fox, A. (September 12, 2019). Why you should visit the Bahamas, according to travel writers and editors. Travel + Leisure. Retrieved from

[xii] Ailworth, Opening the Door.

[xiii] Smith, D. (September 14, 2019). “The poor are punished”: Dorian lays bare inequality in the Bahamas. The Guardian. Retrieved from

[xiv] Sieff, K. (September 12, 2019). When Hurricane Dorian blew through the Bahamas, it exposed one of the world’s great faultlines of inequality. Washington Post. Retrieved from

[xv] Ailworth, Opening the Door.

[xvi] Sieff, When Hurricane Dorian blew.

[xvii] Fraser, S. (April 4, 2013). A history of disaster capitalism: Profiting off natural disasters from the Sam Francisco earthquake to superstorm Sandy. Mother Jones. Retrieved from

[xviii] Klein, N. (2007). The shock doctrine: The rise of disaster capitalism. Macmillan.

[xix] Pérez, M. S., & Cannella, G. S. (2013). Situational analysis as an avenue for critical qualitative research: Mapping post-Katrina New Orleans. Qualitative Inquiry, 19(7), 505-517.

[xx] Gotham, K. F., & Greenberg, M. (2008). From 9/11 to 8/29: Post-disaster Response and Recovery in New York and New Orleans. Social Forces, 87(2), 1-24.

[xxi] Gould, K. A., & Lewis, T. L. (2018). Green Gentrification and Disaster Capitalism in Barbuda: Barbuda has long exemplified an alternative to mainstream tourist development in the Caribbean. After Irma and Maria, that could change. NACLA Report on the Americas, 50(2), 148-153.

[xxii] Ibid, p. 149

[xxiii] Pattullo, P. (2005). Sailing into the sunset. In P. Pattullo (Ed.). Last resorts: The cost of tourism in the Caribbean. New York: NYU Press.

[xxiv] Robles, F. (September 10, 2019). Cruise Ships, Long Contentious in Bahamas, Offer Lifeline After Dorian. New York Times. Retrieved from

[xxv] Klein, N. (2018). The Battle for Paradise: Puerto Rico on the Disaster Capitalists. Retrieved from  

Digesting the Plantation and the role of the Enslaved

David L. Butler, PhD - RESET Research Fellow

When I visit a historic site, I am amazed as much for the information that is shared than I am for the information that is not shared. At any given tourism site, the full spectrum of all that happened at that site, by the many people involved, over numerous years, cannot all be represented. Thus, a culling of information to share is necessary and this removing happens by people, making value judgements, for the visitors who will show up at these sites to learn of the history. What is shared, and what is not, and how, is a subjective experience that is embedded not in the past, when the history took place, but by people living today, experiencing today, reflecting on the past, from today. What I am trying to say is that history at historical sites is not the history of the past, it is the history of the past from the lens of the present.  It is the values, politics, culture, economics of today that influence what of the past, and how, it is shared, and not the values, politics, culture and economics of that time. 

Imagine that the history of a tourism site is a buffet line that goes on, and on, and on. This buffet line represents a year of that site, by time. The first month of that year, January, here are all of the items that happened, each served up as a possible dishes to consume. Births, deaths, weddings, divorces, fights, loves, financial windfall, financial ruin, success, failures, great art events, less-than-great art events, schooling, illnesses, a new car, wagon or horse, less expensive oil or lighting, a road fixed, a tornado knocking down a tree, and that was just the first month of the first year. The next few steps in the buffet show month two, February, in this first year, replete with similar items from January, but with additional edibles as well, including scandals. And as you walk the buffet line to the end of that first year, nearing the December food, you have plates and plates full of food on your tray. And that is just year one of the tourism site. You pause, with a very heavy tray filled with relevant historical items, and walk to the elevator, to go to floor two, the next year, and start all over again with January. Depending upon the age of the tourism site, you may visit fifty to two-hundred floors, each with a January-December buffet, some items showing up with regularity, and sometimes a special unique treat unseen to date. This is the dilemma of a tourism site. So much to show, so little time and space from which to show it. Thus, how do you select from many years of buffets, the ten items you have time to show the visitors, to keep them interested, engaged, and hopefully giving you a good review on social media and purchasing trinkets of their visit at the gift shop?

If the goal is increase the number of visitors to a tourism site each year, then offering up the ten items from the buffets is tricky. You must ask, what 10 things would a tourist, in 2019, 2020, or 2021, want to hear about from the past 50-200 years at this historic site? The answer is commonly something that they can relate to, something that they will remember, something that will make them smile, laugh and have a good time. Something worthy of a post on social media so others can experience this distantly through them. The answer is seldom the most common thing that happened on this site each day, which can seem boring, mundane and not unlike their own life at present, which they are escaping at present while at a tourism site.  

Personal photo from Dr. Derek Alderman on their enslaved cabin tour at McCleod Plantation in Charleston, South Carolina. This site has a rather progressive approach to their history of enslaved people.

Personal photo from Dr. Derek Alderman on their enslaved cabin tour at McCleod Plantation in Charleston, South Carolina. This site has a rather progressive approach to their history of enslaved people.

Now we come to the meat (pun intended) of this blog. What if the tourism site has a history that is less than happy from the point-of-view of 2019, 2020, or 2021? Does one ignore, erase, sanitize or whitewash this history to make it more happy, gleeful and palatable (pun, again) for the current tourist or visitor? Or is there a social, moral or ethical obligation to show the happy with the sad, the good with the evil, the free with the enslaved, even if it does not produce a level of lightness that some people seek while at tourism sites? These questions are what have been discussed, and continue to be debated, within the tourism plantation owner and operator community for decades. How and/or should, a tourism plantation, represent the enslaved and slavery, if at all, at this site? After all, the buffet of choices from these sites are many, why choose such a sad and often depressing subject as enslavement to share with visitors on vacation?

Niche foods and changes in taste

Oak Alley Plantation - personal photo from Dr. Matthew Cook and RESET funded project in 2014

Oak Alley Plantation - personal photo from Dr. Matthew Cook and RESET funded project in 2014

Up until the mid-1990s, plantation tourism chose the pragmatic path of showing the ten buffet items which people stated they wanted, directly by showing up and digesting what was given, or indirectly, through popular culture films such as “Gone with the Wind” where a romanticized view of the period with wealth, opulence and love conquered the box office. There were no enslaved people at a plantation, only “servants” and other trappings one would expect to find at a large, ornate home, of a politically and economically powerful family. To the majority of the visitors and their demographics at that time, affluent, white and baby boomers, this tourism trope worked well and successfully. As the baby boomers started to decline from the majority of the visitors and new Gen X and those alphabet groups afterwards started to appear as tourists, the old tropes did not settle in the stomach as well, and at times were nearly indigestible. The idea that you can have the word “plantation” and no slavery was illogical and oxymoronic. Why did they not share and show enslavement? What were they trying to hide? And why? Year-by-year the demographics would change and any forward looking business person could see that soon the baby boomers would exit the market and the Gen X and after them, the millennials, would be the dominate group touring, and their taste buds were different than what was being served. Should the ten items be exchanged for ten other items? Maybe only one item changed and keep the nine? Or what is the proper mix?  Then along comes Django Unchained (2012), 7 Years a Slave (2013) and other such movies which supplant Gone With the Wind in the new visitors as a part of their pop culture. “If you show slavery, will they still come?” was an underlying question that vexed many plantation owners and operators, and some to this day.

What has emerged, in an erratic and differential landscape, is change. Some tourism plantation sites still sell Gone With the Wind to the baby boomers and hope they keep turning out and will bring others with them to adopt their palate. Other sites have adopted the transition trope where they are taking away some of the old favorites and replacing them with new menu items. If they work, they make them part of the permanent offerings, if they do not, they try something else. It is a trial and error mode as the demographics are no longer monolithic and the tastes are eclectic as each person who visits. And the final offering is the niche locations. Some proudly state that slavery is not on their menu and if you want that to digest, there are other places that offer such options for them, down the road and down the river. While other sides have added slavery only to their menu, all slavery, all day, each day, and this is what they offer and sell, but this too has a specific, niche audience, as it excludes other opportunities. From a normative point of view, none of these sights are wrong and none are right. They all reflect today, 2019, and tomorrow, 2020, and tomorrow’s tomorrow, in 2021, the milieu that is American culture.  The plantation tourism sites that will survive, and thrive, in this new marketplace will be those that figure out how to deliver just the right menu, and the correct portion of enslavement, too the diverse tastes that now travel.