LESSONS FROM ANTIGUA AND BARBUDA*
This articles appears in Caribbean Geography 8(1)(1997 March): 18-31.
*This research was supported in part by the Environmental and Natural Resources Policy and Training Project (EPAT) funded by the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID). The views, interpretations, opinions, and any errors are those of the authors and should not be attributed to any other source. An earlier version of this paper was presented to the 1996 World Congress on Coastal and Marine Tourism (CMT 1996), Honolulu, HI (June 19-22).
Like other small Caribbean microstates, Antigua-Barbuda has
heavily promoted tourism to modernize its former colonial sugar
economy. Three decades of free-market growth, however, suggest
the island's tourism path is nonsustainable. Unbridled development of large-scale infrastructure and foreign financed hotel-marina resorts along delicate coastlines has caused loss of wetlands, endemic species, and pre-Columbian settlement sites and spawned illegal sand mining, beach erosion and near shore pollution.
These coastal stresses have continued despite protective legis-
lation, either ignored or unenforced, and the conservation ef-
forts of local citizens and non-government organizations. Four
case studies of instances of irreversible environmental damage
are reviewed. Results indicate a sharp public policy reversal
is warranted to sustain coastal assets for future commercial (tourists) and recreational (residents) value.
This shift toward a more sustainable path is urgently needed
for three reasons: (1) the current context of heavy external debt
and limited resources available for restoring past damage, (2) the government's pervasive control of coastal resource use and its minimal success in economic diversification, and (3) the gradual maturation of Antigua toward becoming a high-density mass tourism destination where crowding, asset loss, and declining visitor satisfaction are more the rule than the exception. The directions for change involve comprehensive planning, environmental education, training, and monitoring, and participatory decision-making. Key Words: island tourism, Caribbean, Antigua, Barbuda, coastal resources.
Introduction
"The sort of tourism that now dominates the Caribbean . . .
has redefined its physical landscape. It has brought about
the region's second invasion of land-snatchers; first was
the planters who changed the natural environment when they
cleared the land for sugarcane (islands now almost treeless,
like Barbados and Antigua, were once shaggily forested).
This time it has been the coastline which has been cleared.
And it is the tourists who are feeding off the land and
water. . . In a generation, the land and seascape have been:
transformed: the bays where once local fishermen pulled in
their seine nets, where villagers went for a sea-bathe or
where colonies of birds nested in mangrove stands now pro-
vide for the very different needs of tourists. The impact
has been dramatic." (Pattullo 1996: 105).
Antigua and Barbuda lie 250 miles east-southeast of Puerto Rico roughly midway between the Leeward and Windward Islands that comprise the Lesser Antilles. With Barbados and the eastern part of Guadeloupe, they form the outer arc of limestone, low-lying drought-prone islands in the archipelago. Antigua contains over 97 percent of the total population (59,355 in 1991) and nearly two thirds of the total land area (170 sq. mi.). The islands enjoy unique natural and historical assets that demand careful management for their sustained enjoyment by present and future generations. Antigua's coastline is deeply indented with abundant wetlands, beaches and fringing reefs. Its coastal areas also contain over 100 pre- and post-Columbian Indian settlement sites and rich remnants of sugar mills and fortifications that testify to its plantation past and colonial role as headquarters to the British Navy in the Leewards.
Centuries of deforestation, plantation slavery and sugar culture produced a legacy of erosion, watershed damage, declining yields and species extinction. The intensity of monoculture and nonsustainable farming practices (clean-weeding, debris burning) degraded "the vegetation and landscape of Antigua. . . more significantly and more dramatically than on almost any other Caribbean island" (Coram 1993:167). Because of its gentle topography and the historical imperatives of overseas sugar demand, "the island was virtually clear of forest from the 1760s" (Watts 1993:136). The post-emancipation era was characterized by stagnation, heavy emigration and environmental neglect. The collapse of export sugar and cotton after World War II coincided with diversification attempts at small-scale food and livestock production, light manufacturing, off-shore finance, and aggressive tourism promotion. This restructuring has created a legacy of overgrazing and devegetation and has threatened the flora and fauna in coastal areas where tourism development has been rapid and intrusive. Lorah (1995:31) sums up the situation:
Just as unsustainable land use practices played a role in
the recent collapse of its agricultural sector, sand mining,
water pollution, (over)development, declining coral reefs
and mangrove loss pose an even stronger threat to Antigua's
tourism industry, which is highly dependent on the appeal of
the island's coastal zones.
Pre-1960s tourism was primarily confined to the gradual conversion of coastal plantation "great houses" into hotels (Weaver 1988). With the 1960s advent of jet travel, however, tourism and related construction quickly came to dominate the landscape and economy, accounting for over two-thirds of all foreign exchange earnings and half of GDP and employment (de Albuquerque and McElroy 1995a). Growth was especially brisk in the late 1970s and the 1980s. Total visitors (stayovers and cruise) doubled between 1977 and 1980 and then doubled again to over 400,000 by 1990 (see Table 1). As a result of the intense colonization of coastal areas with infrastructure and visitor facilities that accompanied these massive tourist flows, it is estimated that during the 1980s more mangrove swamps and off-shore reefs were damaged or killed than in all of Antigua's previous history (Coram 1993:168).
This tourist expansion restructured the economy. Land,
labor, and capital rapidly migrated away from renewable resource uses in agriculture and fishing toward hotel construction and service employment. Over the past two decades agriculture's share of GDP declined to less than 3 percent while quarrying (sand mining) and construction doubled in importance (Table 1). Tourism related activities (hotel/restaurant, construction, transport and communications) increased from roughly a fourth of GDP in 1977 to over 40 percent in 1995.
This transformation was associated with a number of imbalances that have inhibited growth in the 1990s and reduced Antigua's capacity to deal with long-term environmental problems. The economy has become increasingly tourist-dependent. Declines particularly in stayover visitors caused by international recessions in 1981-82 and 1991-92 and by natural disasters (hurricanes Hugo in 1989 and Luis in 1995) have reduced growth and employment and spawned rising fiscal deficits. Shortfalls in visitor spending have required substantial external borrowing to finance an exploding visible trade deficit which now exceeds 60 percent of GDP.
This short-term external indebtedness comes on the heels of past long-term borrowing during the 1980s to finance the public construction of the Royal Antiguan Hotel and Heritage Quay duty-free shopping complex, airport expansion, and road and other infrastructure repair. At the end of 1995, Antigua's external burden was the largest in the region and represented 47 percent of GDP and 34 percent of total disbursed outstanding debt for all 8 Organization of Eastern Caribbean States (OECS) (ECCB 1996:85). This mounting debt has become a serious drag on the economy along with the government's self-imposed Structural Adjustment Program (SAP) to cut public spending and raise revenues. By default, long-standing environmental restoration, mitigation, monitoring and enforcement plans are neglected or poorly implemented.
Tourism Development
Historically, because of the geographical proximity of the dominant North American (U.S. and Canada) origin market, tourism developed in the Caribbean in the immediate postwar era generally from north to south. Visitation at first concentrated in the northern destinations of the Greater Antilles--Cuba, Jamaica, Puerto Rico--as well as Bermuda and the Bahamas, and then spilled over into the Lesser Antilles after the U.S. embargo of Cuba. It flowed first to the northern Leewards, Barbados and the Netherland Antilles and then to the more southern Windwards.
As a result of its aggressive free-market promotion and incentive programs, Antigua has become one of the most heavily developed and tourist-penetrated destinations in the region. This is clear from the construction of a rudimentary Tourism Penetration Index (TPI) (see Table 2). Antigua's performance across 6 standard indicators is compared in the context of 17 other small islands (less than half million in population and 1,500 km2 in area) with both stayover and cruise sectors. Data from 1993 is selected because that year is considered relatively free of natural disasters, i.e. sufficiently long after hurrican Hugo (1989) and prior to the destructive 1994, 1995, and 1996 seasons (Debbie, Luis, Marilyn etc.).
The interpretaion of the TPI is straight forwared. Each island is ordinally ranked on each indicator, and the TPI is the composite unweighted average score. The lower the score, the higher the ranking, the greater the degree of tourism penetration and assumed ecological impact. For example, St. Maarten received the lowest TPI score and thus the highest penetration/impact ranking. This composite score of 1.5 was the average of a third (3) place in total stayovers, a second (2) in cruise visitors, and firsts (1) in the other four indicators (9/6 = 1.5).
The results confirm previous research (de Albuquerque and McElroy, 1992) and indicate small-island Caribbean destinations fall loosely into three groupings: (I) low-density relatively pristine emerging islands like the Windwards, (III) high-density and high-impact mature resort areas like the traditional regional leaders, and (II) transitional intermediate islands like Antigua undergoing rapid visitor growth and hotel construction. Presently Antigua ranks near the top of the intermediate destinations. The average daily visitor densities approach 100 tourists per 1,000 inhabitants. This is roughly equivalent to a ten percent increase in the resident population, and approaches the threshold of high-density mass tourism islands like Aruba, Bermuda, and the U.S. Virgins. Antigua shares with these destinations a propensity for large-scale resort/marina complexes, high volume hotel and cruise visitation, mounting natural asset losses, crowding, year-round tourism, and the syndrome of declining average visitor stay and satisfaction prompting increasing promotional expenditure.
The long-run policy implications of Antigua's level of tourist penetration are significant. According to Butler (1980), most destinations catering to mass tourism tend to inevitably pass through a series of developmental stages characterized by increasing scale, crowding and socio-environmental overrun until, in the absence of major policy reversal, visitor and revenue declines set in. Antigua is presently poised on the threshold of high-density Stage III mass tourism development where pressures on its coastal and historical assets, already under seige, are projected to intensify. The situation is particularly ominous given the lackluster performance of non-tourist diversification efforts into light manufacturing and domestic agriculture (Lorah 1995).
As a recent regional assessment suggests (Pattullo 1996:107), "One of the worst offenders in its abuse of the environment is Antigua and Barbuda." Untrammeled visitor growth, hotel/marina expansion, tourism infrastructure and related construction, and sand mining have irreversibly altered the islands' coastal ecosystems, reduced biodiversity, disturbed archeological sites and damaged historic artifacts (de Albuquerque and McElroy 1995a). Antigua's best known beaches, heavily colonized by tourist facilities, have been destabilized by shoreline devegetation, mangrove destructure, and erosion from illegal sand mining (Jackson and others 1987). The nearshore has experienced heavy siltation from surface runoff and pollution from pesticide runoff and the outfall of malfunctioning sewage treatment plants ((de Albuquerque 1991).
Resort construction and dredge dumping have also damaged several adjacent salt ponds and delicate wetlands, destroying wildlife habitat and endangering native species crowded into the coastal zone by generations of upland deforestation and erosion (USAID 1991). Harbors have been polluted and seagrass beds destroyed by sewage from urban locations and solid waste dumping from Antigua's renowned yachting industry (Deep Quadrant 1989). In the capital city of St. John's, for example, open sewers flow directly into the harbor. Fringing and offshore reefs have been significantly degraded because of sedimentation from surface water runoff, sewage discharge, over fishing, and recreational diving and boating (Bunce 1994; Weiss 1989). As a result, fish catches and traditional pursuits like crab hunting, coconut gathering, and sea grape picking are declining.
These coastal intrusions have occurred despite the existence of a public regulatory infrastructure, protective environmental legislation, and the concerns and activities of nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) and private citizens. They have also taken place in the absence of a national development plan and in the context of fiscal constraints, future economic uncertainty, a failing diversification strategy, and a strong government commitment to short-run economic growth over long-run environmental stability.
The Department of Public Works, responsible for protecting beaches from illegal sand mining, has been generally ineffective because it possesses no enforcement arm nor resources for monitoring and enforcement. Likewise, because of lack of funds, the Central Board of Health has been unable to enforce sanitation laws and deter litter and dumping. Most importantly, the Development Control Authority, with statutory oversight for all coastal zone construction and development activity, has been routinely bypassed by developers who go directly to the pro-business Cabinet for project approval.
The one bright spot has been the persistent efforts of NGOs and other community groups to defend Antigua's natural, historical and cultural assets. The most prominent and long-standing is the Historical and Archeological Society (HAS) founded in 1965. HAS has been tireless in its efforts to inventory Antigua's natural and historical sites and artifacts, to preserve them through the establishment of the Museum of Antigua and Barbuda in 1986, and to defend them against unwarranted intrusions. As part of its mandate to educate the public, HAS regularly publishes a newsletter, sponsors numerous field trips, lectures and exhibits, and publicizes destruction of historical and cultural resources when it occurs.
In the late 1980s, the Environmental Awareness Group (EAG) was formed as a spinoff from HAS to more forcefully lobby publicly for the environment.The EAG has become Antigua's most visible NGO campaigning to dramatize coastal damage and providing library and technical support for researchers. The EAG has also mobilized regional and international organizations to fund local conservation, monitoring and educational programs. It has expanded activities in support of recycling, agroforestry, coastal biodiversity, reef and wetlands monitoring, and a "Youth Agenda" to interest 17 to 35 year-olds in protecting their natural and historical heritage. The EAG's success, however, in limiting tourist intrusions in fragile coastal areas has been mixed.
The following four case histories illustrate how NGO and citizen conservation efforts have been thwarted by aggressive developers and a powerful government elite committed to rapid tourism growth.
Jolly Harbour
In 1988 the foreign owner of the 500-room Jolly Beach Hotel on Antigua's west coast began construction of a massive large-scale marina/condominium expansion with Cabinet approval and the low-cost purchase of 53 acres of prime wetlands from the government. Mangroves were bulldozed, the shoreline devegetated, and adjacent salt ponds dredged and partially filled (de Albuquerque 1991). Over 400 members of a nearby community of Bolans signed a petition for the Prime Minister protesting the wanton destruction of beaches and wetlands (Figure 1). They also protested the lack of consultation and the limited local economic impact from the operation of the existing Jolly Beach Hotel facility. They were joined by some members of HAS and supported by the local newspaper, The Outlet. Government's response emphasized the marginal commercial value of the "useless" mangrove swamps and reiterated the positive economic payoffs. Because of the power of Government and the uncertainty wrought by the 1990-1992 recession, the furor subsided. At present, the marina and commercial center are completed, and several condominium phases have been built.
Marina Bay Project
In 1986 a joint venture between the St. John Development Corporation, a statutory body of government, and Italian financiers was begun on Antigua's northwest coast north of the capital of St. John's involving the construction of a large-scale condominium and marina/shopping complex (Figure 1). Excavation included dredging McKinnon's salt pond/mangrove swamp and digging a channel that cut off shoreline access between two of Antigua's most popular beaches, Runaway Bay and Dickenson Bay, and blocked off public access to Corbison Point, an historic site (de Albuquerque, 1991). Local outcry became a flashpoint. Handbills and posters appeared demanding "Save McKinnon's Swamp." The EAG widely publicized the large-scale coastal alterations.
Bowing to pressure, the government commissioned an environmental impact assessment (EIA). The EIA noted major flushing, sewage and pollution problems with the project and concluded the short-term economic benefits had to be weighed against the long-term adverse impacts on Runaway and Dickenson Bays (Jackson and others 1987). It strongly advised a series of mitigation strategies to minimize the environmental alterations already underway. However, the report was shelved and no recommendations were implemented.
In both 1989 and 1990, McKinnon's Pond witnessed massive fish kills. Qualified local observers linked them to the Marina Bay Development, which had impeded the periodic natural flushing of the pond, and the raw stagnant sewage being dumped into the pond by nearby hotels (USAID 1991). These unprecedented ecological disasters received extensive media attention. The recently formed EAG employed them as concrete illustrations of how the government's aggressive tourism policies were affecting the environment. Although some public officials toured the area and spoke up against the development, nothing concrete resulted. At present the marina is not fully operational, and only the first phase of condominiums has been completed because of financial problems.
Coconut Hall and Guiana Island
In 1992 the same scenario of massive excavation by an Italian developer without warning or citizen consultation was repeated at Coconut Hall, the site of an old plantation on Antigua's northeast coast, overlooking Guiana Island and Crump Island (Figure 1). Over 80 acres of pristine hillside and mangroves were bulldozed to make way for a large-scale resort complex (hotel, condominiums, golf course, marina and shopping mall)in one of the last remaining coastal stretches rich in creeks, bays and vista access to small offshore islands. Because of the appearance of Cabinet secrecy and the perception that recommendations from appropriate government agencies were either bypassed or ignored, a major confrontation erupted. The EAG and other concerned citizens primarily from the nearby community of Seatons argued that the developers were in clear violation of a number of statutes. The EAG rallied support throughout Antigua and crowds came to see the damage. Some even tried to stop the bulldozers but were deterred by the police. The Development Control Authority's acting chief planner issued a stop work order.
The stand-off between developers and the NGO-led environmentalists received wide publicity in the local and regional media as well as the international press (Pattullo 1996:115). Caught off guard by the extent of the opposition, the government eventually promised an Environmental and Social Impact Assessment (ESIA), but dragged its feet signing the final approval. The ESIA report was finally completed in July 1994 and included detailed changes to the project, mitigation strategies and monitoring plans. The scheme appeared moribund until the Prime Minister in early 1997 announced plans for a significantly expanded complex slated to become the largest tourism development in the Caribbean and to be financed by a new Malaysian group. Though details are sketchy, it is supposed to embrace Coconut Hall and several offshore islands, principally Guiana and Crump islands. It is to include 1,000 villas/condominiums, a 36-hole golf course, a marina, a number of piers, causeways and artifical beaches, a water village and a casino.
Such a largescale development will cause substantial wetland alterations to particularly fragile coastal resources since it involves widespread clearing of vegetation as well as extensive dredge and fill operations. In addition, the complex will certainly damage a wealth of prehistorical and historical sites and endanger unique wildlife. These impacts may be most noticeable on Guiana Island, a nature sanctuary for the rare West Indian Whistling Duck (Vendrocygna arborea) as well as for the European fallow deer (Dama dama dama), introduced in the 1600s and the national animal of Antigua/Barbuda emblazoned on its Coat of Arms (Daniel 1997).
Sand Mining in Barbuda
The past two decades in the Eastern Caribbean have witnessed an unprecedented boom in hotel and residential construction. This has spawned a demand for imported construction sand that increased ten percent per year during the 1980s. Although sand sources include off-shore dredging, dry river bed mining and crushed pumice, the aggregate of choice is beach/dune sand. Much of this aggregate was supplied by Palmetto Point, a unique ecological area in southwest Barbuda, noted for its sand dunes and palmetto forests (Figure 2). According to Cambers (1994:2), "Most imported sand [into the Eastern Caribbean] comes from the dunes of Barbuda, which pays the long-term price of coastal degradation." It is alleged that this most dramatic example of sustained ecosystem destruction in the country was allowed to continue for years largely because the Prime Minister and two cabinet members had up until 1991 direct financial interests in the lucrative mining company. In addition, the government of Antigua benefitted economically. Coram (1993) reports a government royalty of US $.79 for every cubic yard of sand exported from Barbuda.
For nearly 18 years, barges loaded with sand left Barbuda almost daily. At the height of the operation, some 20,000 tons of sand were being exported each month to nearby islands like Antigua, Guadeloupe, Martinique, St. Maarten, the Virgin Islands and elsewhere in the region. In a damage assessment, an EAG team indicated that nearly two decades of sand mining had created a large crater 7 meters deep that endangered Barbuda's freshwater acquifers (de Albuquerque and McElroy 1995a). The EAG decried the systematic destruction of the dunes and the wholesale clearance of palmetto forests and associated stands of sea grapes and mangroves. They also reported serious disruption of local wildlife, considerable beach erosion around Palmetto Point, and the resulting undermining of nearby cottages at an abandoned hotel. The USAID study (1991) also noted that the continual removal of sand in large quantities would adversely affect the undersea topography of adjacent and other areas.
In 1992, a High Court Judge in Antigua issued a temporary injunction against further sand mining because it was determined that the ground water supply had in fact been contaminated. This action partly mollified the Barbuda Council (established in 1976) in its long-standing battle with the Government of Antigua over Local Barbudan' claim to common landownership and the Council's demand for a share of the mining royalties. However, during the summer of 1993, while the Court Order was still in force, sand mining resumed at Palmetto Point under the direction of the Antigua Minister of Agriculture. It is estimated that over 110,000 short tons of sand were mined (de Albuquerque, 1975). The Barbuda Council filed suit and won. Since that time, although activity has apparently stopped in Barbuda, local observers indicate that illegal sand mining in Antigua, long a common practice as in other Eastern Caribbean Islands, has increased noticeably, driven in part by reconstruction in the wake of hurricane Luis (1995).
These four cases exemplify the structural constraints on coastal conservation faced by small tourist-dependent microstates with few resources and economic alternatives. These limitations are especially severe for destinations like Antigua and Barbuda with a maturing visitor industry on the threshold of high-density mass tourism that are also burdened by a heavy debt legacy of past borrowing to finance infrastructure and resorts, and a weak conservation ethic that dates back to colonial times.
In this context, the case studies illustrate: (1) the persistent policy preference for short-term economic gain over long-term environmental stability, (2) the overriding "environmental veto" of a dominant Prime Minister and Cabinet against the conservation policies of government agencies charged with planning and managing natural resources, (3) the ineffectiveness of environmental legislation without appropriate funding and backing for monitoring and enforcement, and (4) the inability of NGOs and "green" community groups without statutory authority to reverse coastal destruction in a hostile top-down policy environment.
The overall implication is that coastal decline will continue in Antigua and Barbuda and in other high-density tourist- driven islands unless a significant broad-based sustained inter-
vention is attempted to reverse past policy and practice. As has been argued elsewhere (de Albuquerque and McElroy 1995c), this effort would involve accomplishing the following five long-range tasks: (1) securing internal (taxes, user fees) and external funds for environmental planning and programming, (2) establishing an effective comprehensive planning framework for identifying critical and damaged assets and developing enforceable construction guidelines and impact assessment requirements, (3) providing for adequate staffing of agencies in coastal monitoring and for ongoing staff training programs, (4) instituting a community-wide coastal environmental education program to provide the electorate with a countervailing voice against the often narrow short-sighted business and political interests, and (5) designing mechanisms for public and NGO participation in coastal resource decision- making so that citizens' heightened environmental awareness and stake in their natural patrimony find concrete expression in coastal zone management policy. Ideally this would be undertaken by a collaborative partnership between the government, active NGOs and other community groups and organizations, and with the support from conservation-minded international donor agencies (Josiah and Eckman, 1995).
Although this five-step program is ambitious and time-consuming, it is necessary to counterbalance the nonsustainable resource practices that historically and cumulatively destroyed Antigua's export agriculture and presently undermine the delicate coastal asset base of today's economy. Reform is particularly imperative given current capital constraints and limited diversification possibilities as well as the intrusive large-scale high-density tourism style that increasingly characterizes Antigua's economy. Bermuda's recent example of participatory planning, growth controls and coastal conservation demonstrates that such policy reversal is possible in small, highly tourist-dependent island societies (de Albuquerque and McElroy, 1995b).
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Table 2: Selected Characteristics and Density Rankings for Selected
Small Caribbean Islands, 1993
___________________________________________________________________________________
Island Pop. Area Tourists Cruise Visitor Avg Avg Daily TPI(2)
(000) km2 (000) (000) Spend/ Stay Dens. per
Pop (US$) Pop. km2(1)
____________________________________________________________________________________
STAGE III High Density
St.Maarten 33 34 520 660 11,406 4.8 262 254 1.5
USVI 109 342 561 1,208 8,451 5.1 102 33 3.3
Caymans 30 260 287 606 8,617 4.9 184 21 4.0
Aruba 71 193 562 251 6,534 7.2 166 61 5.0
Bermuda 59 55 412 154 8,551 6.2 126 135 5.2
Average 60 177 468 576 8,712 5.6 168 101 3.8
STAGE II Intermediate
BVI 18 150 200 86 6,778 7.0 226 27 7.5
Antigua 66 440 249 238 5,638 8.3 96 14 8.7
Guadel. 405 1,373 453 263 913 6.3 21 6 9.7
M'tnique 360 1,060 366 429 921 5.1 17 6 9.7
Barbados 264 431 396 429 2,000 11.2 50 3 10.8
Curacao 144 444 214 183 1,675 8.0 36 11 10.8
St. Lucia 140 616 194 154 1,579 10.6 43 10 11.8
Bonaire 11 288 55 17 2,527 6.9 95 4 12.0
St. Kitts 41 269 89 83 1,869 8.1 54 8 12.0
Grenada 96 344 94 200 501 7.2 25 7 12.0
Average 155 542 231 208 2,440 7.9 66 10 10.5
STAGE I Low Density
Monts'rat 10 102 21 10 1,520 11.0 66 6 14.5
Dominica 71 750 52 88 468 7.8 19 2 15.5
St.Vinc. 109 389 57 69 500 10.3 16 5 16.0
Average 63 414 43 56 829 9.7 34 5 15.3
________________________________________________________________________________________
SOURCES: CTO (1994, 1993, 1992, 1991, 1990); USDC (1993).
NOTES: (1) Average daily densities are computed as: [(No. Tourists x Avg. Stay) + No.Cruise] / population or km2 x 365. Estimates for the British Virgin Islands should be interpreted with caution since considerable BVI tourism is water-based with reduced impact on the local population and landscape.
(2) The Tourism Penetration Index is computed as the unweighted average of each destination's rankings on the six separate tourism indicators in Table 2 above.