An Ounce of Prevention
Continuing on the island theme, here’s a very helpful critique addition to my previous post. Hazel A. Todd is a Barbadian development and disaster management specialist with extensive experience across the Caribbean and beyond. She spent 18 years with the UK Department for International Development (DFID) in its Barbados-based regional office, where she saw firsthand how fragile development gains can be in the face of recurrent disasters and limited preparedness. This led her to pursue a master’s degree in disaster management at Cranfield University in the UK.
In 2011, she returned to Barbados as Acting Deputy Director of the Department of Emergency Management. Since then, she has undertaken numerous consultancies on disaster management and climate change for organizations including the World Bank Independent Evaluation Group, United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), UNICEF, Inter-American Development Bank, Organization of American States (OAS), Organisation of Eastern Caribbean States (OECS), United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), and the Caribbean Disaster Emergency Management Agency (CDEMA). She has also worked as an emergency planner in the UK and as Disaster Preparedness and Response Manager with a major NGO in the United States following Hurricane Katrina.
An Ounce of Prevention How decades of small decisions have reshaped Barbados’ coastline
by Hazel A. Todd
There is an old saying: an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. In Barbados, it is more than a saying; it is a lesson that has been quietly ignored over time, particularly along its coastline.
Much of the current conversation around coastal erosion focuses on climate change and sea level rise. These are real pressures and they are increasingly visible. But they are not the whole story. The condition of the island’s coastline today is also the result of decades of cumulative decisions: how land has been used, how ecosystems have been treated, and how short-term priorities have overridden long-term resilience.
Coastal erosion does not happen in isolation. It is the outcome of multiple, interconnected pressures, many of which begin on land.
Pollution is one. Runoff from swimming pools, untreated or poorly managed waste and general surface discharge eventually find their way into coastal waters. Industrial activity historically located along Bay Street, in the parish of St Michael, has also contributed to long-standing concerns about coastal pollution. Over time, this has degraded water quality and contributed to the loss of coral reefs; natural barriers that once absorbed wave energy and protected the shoreline.
There was also a long period when marine resources were not simply relied upon but were extracted almost unrestrained. Sea eggs, flying fish, sea fans, and coral were harvested heavily, particularly during the tourism boom of the 1970s and 1980s. These ecosystems were not ornamental; they were functional. Their removal weakened coastal resilience in ways that were not immediately visible, but are now increasingly evident.
Along the coastline itself, development has followed a pattern that has increasingly disrupted natural processes. Hotels and private properties now dominate many beachfronts. The historical notion of the high water mark has, in practice, become blurred; interpreted in ways that allow expansion into what was once public and dynamic coastal space. In some cases, buildings, walls and protective structures have been pushed further seaward, altering natural coastal movement.
The concept of the high water mark is not new. It comes from older seashore and marine law, including the Sea-shore Act, which treats the seashore as the area between the low and high water marks, along with related provisions dealing with the foreshore, wrecks, derelict property and (formerly) Crown or public control of coastal space. These frameworks were developed at a time when coastlines were assumed to be relatively stable, and were concerned mainly with access, navigation, ownership, and control.
Today, those principles sit alongside modern legislation. The Coastal Zone Management Act defines the foreshore as the area between the low and high water marks, effectively setting that line as the coastal boundary. The National Conservation Commission Act extends the definition of the beach inland, reinforcing its public use and protection.
The difficulty is that while the law recognises the high water mark, it is often treated in practice as a fixed boundary. In reality, it is not static. It moves as beaches accrete, erode and respond to changing coastal conditions. As erosion accelerates and sea levels rise, this creates increasing tension between legal definition, private development, public access and the physical behaviour of the shoreline itself.
This has also had a social impact. While the government of Barbados maintains that there are no private beaches, access along sections of the coastline has, in practice, become increasingly restricted. Continuous development, physical barriers and the positioning of properties have limited lateral movement along the shore, effectively privatising areas that were once freely accessible to the public.
These decisions are not incidental. Tourism is the dominant economic driver in Barbados, and it has directly shaped how and where development has taken place. Coastal land generates the highest returns, and infrastructure has therefore been concentrated along the shoreline. Hotels are positioned so that visitors step directly from room to beach to sea. This model has defined the physical layout of much of the island’s coastline.
The result is a near-continuous strip of development along large sections of the coast, leaving little separation between built infrastructure and natural systems.
Tourism-related marine activity also forms part of this wider pattern. Speed boats and jet skis can cause significant damage to coral reefs and contribute to coastal erosion. Through physical impact, sediment disturbance, and wave action, these vessels degrade fragile marine ecosystems. In Barbados, this type of activity has been widespread since the expansion of the tourism sector and, in many areas, remains loosely regulated and inconsistently enforced. The impact is no longer theoretical; it is already evident along the coastline. Over time, this has become a contributing factor in the weakening of natural coastal protection and the cumulative pressures already affecting the shoreline.
There are also conspicuous examples of how development has overridden natural systems. Areas such as One Sandy Lane, located along the “Platinum Coast” in the parish of St James, once characterised by mangroves and wetlands, have been transformed into high-end residential developments, removing natural buffers that previously absorbed water, stabilized the coastline and reduced flood risk. The area has since been impacted by large-scale coastal erosion, illustrating the longer-term consequences of altering these natural systems.
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Further inland, the pattern continues. Mangroves, trees, and forested areas have been cleared for housing and development, often with limited protection of what remains. In many cases, this has taken place on habitats historically understood, through local knowledge and oral history, to function as gullies, flood plains, or swamp areas. These were never incidental spaces. They absorbed water, slowed runoff, and reduced flooding. Their removal has fundamentally altered how water moves across the island.
There is also a noticeable change in the landscape itself. With reduced tree cover and limited protection of forested areas, the island has become progressively hotter. Natural cooling has been reduced, shade has disappeared, and the balance that once moderated heat and water flow has been disrupted.
The consequences are no longer abstract. For example, the area around Charles Rowe Bridge, in the parish of St. George, illustrates this clearly. While the original gully remains, the pond at its mouth, which once functioned as a natural runoff basin, has gone. Its removal, along with modifications to the retaining bridge to accommodate commercial development, has disrupted that system.
Flooding has since increased, with tragic consequences, including loss of life. It is a stark reminder of what happens when natural drainage systems are altered without fully understanding their role.
Traditional practices that once worked with the landscape have also been lost. Hedgerows and vegetation such as cuscus grass, which helped stabilise soil and manage water flow, have largely disappeared. These were simple, effective measures that provided long-term environmental benefits.
On the east and south-eastern coasts, particularly along St Philip, another pattern is emerging. Houses have been constructed along cliff edges now being steadily undermined by the sea. The attraction is clear: elevated land and uninterrupted ocean views; but these developments often sit on fragile geological formations. Over time, wave action erodes the base of the cliffs while rainfall weakens them from above. What appears stable is, in many cases, slowly being compromised. The risk develops gradually, which makes it easier to ignore; until it cannot be.
All of this points to a broader issue: coastal erosion in Barbados is not simply a climate story. It is also a land management story. It reflects a series of decisions; about where and how to build, what to remove, and what to protect.
Over time, numerous coastal and environmental projects have been introduced. However, their long-term impact has been limited. This is not due to a lack of knowledge, but because the underlying economic structure remains unchanged. Barbados continues to rely heavily on tourism, with limited diversification at scale. As long as this dependency persists, development pressures along the coastline will continue, and interventions will remain incremental rather than transformative.
In contrast, the small island of Singapore has invested in long-term planning, environmental management, and economic diversification, allowing development to occur alongside sustainability rather than in conflict with it.
The challenge now is that the cost of an “environmental cure” is far greater than it would have been earlier; and in many respects, the opportunity for prevention has already passed.
In Barbados, much of the damage cannot easily be undone. The horse has already left the stable. Coastlines have been altered, natural systems removed, and development patterns established that are difficult to reverse. Large sections of the coastline are now defined by continuous development — hotels and infrastructure aligned end to end; particularly along the west and south coasts. The relationship between land and sea has been reshaped to serve an economic model.
There are exceptions. The East Coast, with its rugged terrain and Atlantic exposure, remains one of the last stretches of relatively open and natural beauty on the island. But even there, development pressures are emerging, and the same patterns are beginning to take hold.
This raises a necessary question: have the lessons been learned?
The evidence suggests they have not. Development continues in vulnerable areas, often repeating the same approaches that have contributed to current challenges. Risk is recognised but not consistently integrated into decision-making.
This does not mean that action is no longer possible. But it does mean the conversation must move beyond prevention alone to protection, restraint, and deliberate planning for what remains.
Because what is left still matters.
And what is decided now will determine whether the remaining natural systems are preserved, or whether the cycle continues.
In the end, it is better to prepare and prevent than to repair and repent.
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Originally published at https://juhauitto.substack.com.
