Islands of Difference: Design, Urbanism, and Sustainable Tourism in the Anthropocene Caribbean

This paper introduces the Anthropocene idea as a problem space with salience for Caribbean anthropology and the Caribbean travel industry. The term is used by scientists to define the present era in which human processes operate at the scale of the Earth’s geologic and biological systems, and it has come to justify a host of current actions in the name of sustainability. Through the examination of a new second-home destination currently being built in The Bahamas, I point out shifting trends in tourism design moving away from the anchor resort model of enclave mass tourism. I make the case that Anthropocene notions of sustainability not only rearticulate building practices and destination branding, but also analytic possibilities for the study of island place making and transnational processes. I advocate for a greater incorporation of design and urban anthropology into the study of Caribbean tourism as a means to understand these emerging events. KEYWORDS: Anthropocene, Caribbean, design, environmental change, New Urbanism, small islands, sustainable tourism, The Bahamas, tourism product RESUMEN Este artículo introduce la idea del antropoceno como un espacio problema con importancia para la antropología del caribe y la industria turística de éste. Este término es utilizado por científicos para definir la era presente en la cual los procesos humanos operan al nivel de escala geológica y biológica en la tierra, y ha venido a justificar una gran cantidad de acciones en el nombre de la sostenibilidad. A través de la examinación de una zona dedicada a la construcción de segundos hogares en las Bahamas, identifico cambios en diseño turístico de la isla que va dejando atrás el modelo del resort como enclave del turismo en masa. Argumento que las nociones de sostenibilidad del antropoceno no sólo re-articulan las prácticas de construcción y el “branding” del destino turístico, pero también las posibilidades analíticas para el estudio de fabricación de lugar y procesos transnacionales. Abogo por una mayor incorporación de la antropología del diseño y urbana en el estudio del turismo al caribe como una forma de mejor entender estos eventos emergentes. PALABRAS CLAVES: Antropoceno, Caribe, diseño, cambio ambiental, Nuevo Urbanismo, islas pequenas, turismo sostenible, las Bahamas, producto turistico Published in the Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Anthropology 20(3): 513-­‐532. Long-standing Western fascination with the paradise island as an alluring tabula rasa are today being updated, in a context where islands function as ‘sites of innovative conceptualizations, whether of nature or human enterprise, whether virtual or real’ Sheller 2009, p. 1386, quoting Baldacchino, 2006 Caribbean anthropology has a varied history of engagement with theories of island socio-natural relations. Ortiz’s Cuban Counterpoint (1947), Steward et al.’s The People of Puerto Rico (1956), and Mintz’s Sweetness and Power (1986) are examples of anthropological scholarship in a materialist vein that attribute cultural change and regional coherence in large part to relationships of production involving island agricultural ecologies. In more recent biomedical scholarship, Maurer (1997) has grappled with notions of biogenetic belonging and human nature metaphorically applied to land ownership and citizenship rights in the British Virgin Islands, and Whitmarsh (2008) has examined the creation of Barbados as a naturalized model island for genetic asthma research. In the realm of Caribbean tourism, critiques of mass tourism and ecotourism have theorized island natural environments as highly politicized spaces that obfuscate and amplify the fraught power relations of national tourist industries (Baldwin 2005; Carrier and Macleod 2005; Feldman 2011; Moore 2010b; Skoczen 2008; Sommer and Carrier 2010; Strachan 2002; West and Carrier 2004). This article begins from the position that rather than existing as an under-appreciated theme in Caribbean anthropology, popping up here and there as a subset of other disciplinary concerns, questions of island socio-natural relations must become integral to research in and of the region. My interest in this issue stems from prevailing responses to global environmental change and the emergent notion of the Anthropocene. The Anthropocene is a geo-scientific term for our present geological era (what would otherwise be the Holocene), and it marks the extreme change in Earth’s systems brought about by human activities. Informally named a decade ago by an atmospheric chemist (Crutzen 2002), the Anthropocene is the second-most popular attempt to label the effects of the human species on the planet after the idea of climate change. But climate change is only a subset of anthropogenic planetary change, and the Anthropocene, as a concept, signifies multiple forms of human-caused global change (from climate change to biodiversity loss to shifts in nutrient cycling to fresh Published in the Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Anthropology 20(3): 513-­‐532. water scarcity) and unites them under one term. The term’s proponents argue that the Anthropocene is an unstable geologic epoch that began in the late eighteenth century with the advent of industrialization and solidified in the twentieth century with the spread of the human population and economic globalization, continuing into the foreseeable future—unless humanity can devise a transition to sustainable systems (Crutzen and Steffen 2003; Furnass 2012). The argument is that the stable Holocene era (that provided the growth conditions for human civilization) has now been displaced by the Anthropocene as a direct result of human activities that influence planetary processes to an unprecedented degree (Rockstrom 2009). Why should social scholars care about the Anthropocene idea? There are a number of existing justifications. One orientation towards the Anthropocene is usefully summarized by the political economist Elinor Ostrum: “the Anthropocene changes our relationship with the planet. We have a new responsibility and we need to determine how to meet that responsibility” (IGBP 2014, np). Another orientation stems from science and technology studies scholars who examine how the synergistic problems of pervasive anthropogenic change symbolized by the Anthropocene have inspired evolving science and society relations, technoscientific assemblages, and new disciplinary methodologies and research questions (Seidl et al. 2013). And because the idea points to biogeochemical transformations of humanity as a collective force of nature, historians and humanists are beginning to see the Anthropocene as an idea that explicitly merges the notion of human and natural history, arguing for the inextricable nature of each (Chakrabarty 2009, 2012; Slaughter 2012). I am interested in the conceptual tensions stemming from the Anthropocene idea: one debate asks whether our priority for the Anthropocene should be to protect Earth systems that remain relatively unchanged by human activity, or whether we should let go of the idea of “untouched systems” in favor of managing socio-natural working landscapes (Bubandt and Tsing 2014; Caro et al. 2011; Kloor 2013; Lorimer 2012); another debate examines appropriate relationships to pasts, presents, and futures within proposed solutions to the problems of global change. In other words, I see the Anthropocene as more than a “mere” geological category limited to the Earth sciences. The Anthropocene idea is also a persuasive discourse that enables conceptual anxieties, productive contradictions, research opportunities, and entrepreneurial actions; it enables actors to configure an increasing amount of thought and action in the name of anthropogenic sustainability (Rabinow 2003; Rabinow and Marcus 2008). Published in the Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Anthropology 20(3): 513-­‐532. As a term issuing from the Earth sciences, the concept might seem far from relevant to the tourist industry and cultural politics of Caribbean island nations, but I would like to reposition the study of the Anthropocene idea as vital for Caribbean anthropology and the anthropology of regional tourism. Critical attention to the Anthropocene idea allows Caribbean scholars to recognize emergent cultural events that are framed by the age of anthropogenesis (again, denoting climate change and beyond), and the way these events alter the familiar sun, sand, and sea travel brand-narratives and critiques of the tourism industry across the wider Caribbean region. Analytic attention to “paradise discourse” (Feldman 2011; Strachan 2002) and the commodification of nature and culture within tourist and ecotourist practices (Hutchins 2007) can now be complicated by our recognition of the affects of Anthropocene discourse and practices that increasingly shape the way islands and their infrastructures are produced and consumed as destinations. For example, “anthropogenic drivers” of change in the region include climate change, deforestation, fishing, tourism, urbanization, and coastal development, and these are said to lead, synergistically, to acute problems of coastal flooding, erosion, pollution, salinization, and biodiversity loss (Crossland et al. 2006). In direct response to these warnings from the scientific community, regional environmental organizations and tourism industry networks have devised public awareness campaigns, waste management plans, hotel certification guidelines, and facility and infrastructure design manuals—all in the name of sustainable tourism (Caribbean Environment Programme 2014). I see these events as part of an explicit reimagination of Caribbean island tourism. Such awareness of the creativity of Anthropocene discourse leads me to hypothesize that the advent of ecotourism in the region over the past few decades is but the beginning of a rearticulation of development design in the name of coming to terms with anthropogenic planetary change. Therefore, our critical study of these built environments must also undergo reconsideration and attention to design and designers. We must examine the declarations of those who will be actively reconstructing island infrastructures and travel destinations because these declarations open a window onto innovative conceptualizations in the region that have real consequences for the direction of regional development and island imaginaries (Sheller 2009). An awareness of Anthropocene discourse also highlights the fact that the Caribbean and its islands have been positioned by the travel industry as an experimental space for sustainable design and development practices in the twenty-first century. We cannot follow these Published in the Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Anthropology 20(3): 513-­‐532. developments, as scholars of Caribbean tourism, without developing an awareness of this emergent problem space and discourse. In addition, this awareness has prompted several questions for anthropological research: will new “sustainable” developments become known as timely destination design models? Will these models spread in the region to reconstitute island socio-natural relations and create branded places identifiable by sustainable principles? Will development in the name of the Anthropocene alter resort infrastructures and travel practices that many identify as overconsumptive of resources and corrosive of social relations? Will Anthropocene discourse alter relations between island citizens and visitors—so-called hosts and guests (Smith 1989; Stronza 2001)? In other words, what does contemporary sustainable tourism enable for Caribbean island place making? What tensions does it exacerbate? What does it constrain? In order to explore my hypothesis about emergent forms of sustainable tourism in the Caribbean and what the Anthropocene might mean for Caribbean tourism, I present a case from my long-term field site, The Bahamas. I hope to be able to track place-making trends in The Bahamas and the region over the coming years, and I have begun fieldwork in a second-home development project on one of the Bahama Islands currently in initial stages of construction. Without naming the development or the island, this article describes some of the ways the project designers believe they are rearticulating destination development in the name of sustainability. Here, I will refer to the project as “the Development”. The article is presented as follows: first, I introduce recent iterations of global and Caribbean “tourism products”, discussing the primacy of branding in global markets, the “triumph” of branding that is The Bahamas, and the particularities of the nascent Anthropocene travel industry. Secondly, I highlight a current trend in the redesign and rebranding of the region and The Bahamas—New Urbanist, second-home communities as a form of sustainable tourism—and I utilize select themes from urban and design studies to draw attention to emergent critiques and analytic opportunities. Thirdly, I lay out the ethnographic case of the Development and the design strategies, desires, and challenges of the developers. Finally, I conclude with a critical analysis of what is drawn together in the creation of the Development in The Bahamas, and call for an analytic sensitivity to the emergent tensions and contradictions of the Anthropocene Caribbean. Published in the Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Anthropology 20(3): 513-­‐532. Tourism Products as “Islands of Difference” International tourism is one of the fastest growing industries in the world (Kaul 2009). In 2012 the total number of recorded tourist travelers surpassed 1 billion for the first time (UNWTO 2013). However, not all tourist markets or tourist regions fare well in any given year, and the spread of tourist arrivals and spending is uneven, globally. Therefore, international destination branding for what are known within the industry as national “tourism products” is of primary importance within highly competitive markets (Jefferson and Lickorish 1991). The Caribbean region is dependent on tourism as the mainstay of many national economies (Harrison et al. 2003). It not only competes in a global market, but Caribbean countries must also compete with one another for elusive travelers and their money (Skoczen 2008). Promoting, distinguishing among, and perpetually redesigning national tourism products as “islands of difference” has become a regional industry in itself. As I have mentioned elsewhere (Moore 2010a), Coombe shows that the idea of distinction requires the quality of being in a relationship (1998). The Caribbean, as a tourism product, is always in a relationship of distinction with other global destinations, and countries and island locations within the Caribbean are also implicated and configured by their distinctions from one another. National tourism organizations and their consultants constantly engineer distinction from their competitors, positioning destinations in a social system of difference. It is common knowledge within the region that the brand of “sun, sand, and sea” has lost its edge, as it represents the region but is not the exclusive domain of the Caribbean. However, national tourism officials recognize that marketing their respective countries (and destinations within those countries) as distinct highlights the region and vice versa because branding the Caribbean region influences the collection of representations and affects associated with national products (Moore 2010a, 2010b). This social system of difference is especially heightened in The Bahamas, an archipelago of 30 inhabited islands (out of approximately 700), many of which have been individually branded as unique destinations within the country itself, deriving their value in part from their archipelagic relationship to the other islands in the country and in part from the country’s relationship to the region. In The Bahamas, the tourist development model in the last quarter of the twentieth century took on the specific form of the island “anchor” resort. National goals involved the Published in the Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Anthropology 20(3): 513-­‐532. construction of a major resort on each island with a viable population. These resorts took several forms, from mass-market, all-inclusive hotels to luxury second-home communities, to combinations of the two in one exclusive property. These resort plans relied on foreign investment and visitation (usually from the USA or Canada), the promise of near full service employment for island residents, the brand cachet of The Bahamas, and the distinctions among what are labeled “the Family Islands.” However, this tourism product development strategy designed around multiple “anchor” resort enclaves has long shown signs of strain, with resorts folding, undergoing perpetual new ownership, or failing to open at all. These complications with the island anchor resort brand have proven true in The Bahamas as well as in the wider Caribbean, and the sector is now scrambling for alternatives and new brand strategies. Enter the sustainable tourism trend as a strategy of distinction in an anthropogenic age. Members of the tourism industry have argued that recognition of global environmental change is now “at the forefront of global culture”, and the tourism industry is responding to this assessment of consumer awareness (Seba 2012: i). In the contemporary Anthropocene moment, sustainable tourism is touted as a paradigm shift that retreats from foreign owned, enclave resort models towards promoting community inclusive destinations designed around minimal resource use and local economic growth (Butler 1993; Jayawardena et al. 2008). I see this as distinct from standard understandings of ecotourism in that the goal of sustainable tourism is not necessarily to travel to undisturbed natural areas, to commune with nature, or to participate explicitly in environmental education (Waitt and Cook 2007; Weaver 2001). For example, one industry strategy has been to reconsider tourist destinations and developments as living, socio-natural urban spaces, and this has meant adapting design trends from so-called sustainable urban development and infrastructure for tourist consumption (see next section). However, according to market research studies, consumers (aka EuroAmerican tourists) are more likely to seek out sustainable tourism products only when these products align with existing social norms for travel and when they clearly understand the infrastructural and resource linkages between tourism and the environment (Becken 2007; Miller 2010). This means that discursive Anthropocene arguments about responsible travel practices and destination design are less likely to center on protecting pristine nature and more likely to revolve around devising “innovative” means of managing socio-natural relations in ways that are familiar and attractive to tourists and that confirm their understandings of global change. Ecotourism has long been identified as a product Published in the Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Anthropology 20(3): 513-­‐532. that reflects the cultural and environmental worldviews of EuroAmerican consumers (Munt 1994; West and Carrier 2004). More recent sustainable tourism of the type described here certainly promotes the consumption of a particular environmental aesthetic, but the aesthetic now involves the explicit manipulation of landscapes and infrastructures beyond the scope of ecotourism. Within this milieu of declining tourist product “sales” in markets of and for difference and distinction, the notion of sustainable tourism has become one emergent branding strategy for the salvation of the regional industry. Sustainability, a key buzzword for the Anthropocene, has been identified as lacking from island economies and tourist development plans, and Caribbean tourism, the “vector and victim” of cultural and environmental degradation, is considered ripe for a sustainable overhaul. Robinson and Picard explain that “in recognizing the fact that international tourism continues to expand, we also need to recognize that it is continually changing the ways in which it operates ... it is far more willing to engage in the sustainable development agenda and this relates to its increasing ability to segment the market” (2006: 12). Whatever else it might be, sustainable tourism is certainly a brand strategy for the Anthropocene, and the industry hopes that those destinations that promote themselves with this distinctive framework will have an edge over the rest of the sector—until the trend becomes as ubiquitous as sun, sand, and sea. In some ways The Bahamas has been a triumph of branding and the perfect place to study these developments—partly because of the popularity of the anchor resort model and partly because, as mentioned above, Anthropocene arguments about the unsustainability of small island economies and environments call for the redesign of that model (Harrison et al. 2003; Robison and Picard 2006). The Bahamas is also fascinating because of ongoing public debates about its culture of tourism. This is a country in which it is possible for the Minister of Culture to say (in 2011), “be yourself is the biggest lie. You might be in a bad mood and that inhibits performing a service (for the tourist). Service exalts the server.” This opinion is countered by Bahamian intellectuals who argue that this view unnecessarily makes citizens “a wax paper people,” and that what matters is design, creating a national iconography and standards for citizens and visitors alike. These are debates about culture, about place-making, and about subjectification. What I am arguing is that emergent forms of sustainable tourism rearticulate these concerns, Published in the Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Anthropology 20(3): 513-­‐532. creating rebranded islands of difference within the milieu of tourism products for the Anthropocene. Redesigning and Rebranding Tourist Urbanisms for the Anthropocene Anthropologists have long known that aesthetics are key to design, and that designers have select styles, tools, and materials they make use of for contingent social and historical reasons (LeviStrauss 1962). Designed objects are meaningful things—signs—affective embodiments of thought and ideology. Design is, therefore, “a reflective conversation with the situation at hand” (Louridas 1999: 530). Design is a key component of the tourist industry and international tourism has relied as much on land development and infrastructure as on marketing. Tourist experiences are made possible by landscape design and, for regions like the Caribbean, seascape design. Design results, in large part, from the decisions made by building and landscape architects, engineers, sculptors, and interior designers but also by philosophers, political scientists, economists, planners, horticulturalists, and painters (Gunn 1988). Gunn, a member of the tourist industry, stresses a tourism product development focus on design because design emphasizes the aesthetic manipulation of landscapes in order to improve tourism. Therefore, everything the traveler experiences, aesthetically and sensorially, is the supposed responsibility of designers, who also need to become more central to the regional study of tourism. I have described briefly how sustainable tourism reflects the goals of Anthropocene discourse by drawing explicit attention to the design of socio-natural environments and innovative infrastructures for tourist development. One response among many possible responses to these design concerns is New Urbanism. Developed in the 1970s and 80s, New Urbanism is a design philosophy and brand platform that has gained recent popularity in the tourist industry of the Caribbean and elsewhere (Anonymous 2010). Created as a reaction to urban sprawl, New Urbanist design is characterized by an attention to density and walkability, mixed-use buildings and zoning, longevity and durability of buildings and materials, “vernacular” or traditional aesthetics, utilization of energy efficient designs and materials, and the promotion of public space, among other attributes (Trudeau and Malloy 2011). In other words, the organization of New Urbanist space is linked to particular sustainable ideals and ideas about the appropriate Published in the Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Anthropology 20(3): 513-­‐532. form of community (Grabill 2003). Two towns in Florida, Seaside and Celebration, are wellknown examples of New Urbanism, but there are hundreds of New Urbanist communities in the United States from Mississippi to Colorado, and many more New Urbanist neighborhoods and developments in Europe, Canada, Latin America, and South Africa. Proponents of New Urbanism have stated that it offers “a powerful and enduring set of principles for creating more sustainable neighborhoods, buildings and regions ... [providing] guidance to policy makers, planners, urban designers and citizens seeking to address the impact of towns and cities on the natural and human environment”; it achieves change “by simultaneously engaging urbanism, infrastructure, architecture, construction practice and conservation in the creation of humane and engaging places that can serve as models” (Congress for the New Urbanism 2011: 1). As the form has spread there have been several critiques of New Urbanist residential developments in the United States and elsewhere that hinge on the ironic observation that these developments are still a form of unsustainable sprawl in that they are often built on “greenfield sites” (undeveloped land), and that they are still upper-class enclaves because homes in these communities are not affordable for low income buyers. Some have referred to New Urbanist residential developments as artificial and elitist (Grabill 2003), while others prefer the satirical label “New Suburbanism” (Marshall 1996). In addition, New Urbanist neighborhood design has been identified as paradoxically celebrating and neutralizing local class and cultural distinctions. Therefore, we should be keenly aware that New Urbanist design is about reimagining socionatural relations but not inherently about equity or ameliorating chronic forms of social difference. As a framework for tourism development, New Urbanism is often utilized as an ownership model, where tourist visitation is promoted through second-home buying in New Urbanist villages as opposed to hotel stays, although boutique hotels are often incorporated in these developments. In short, New Urbanism has been selected by destination designers as one optimal “science of form” for mediating the production of tourist space and place in the Anthropocene (Gonzalez and Lejano 2009). The Caribbean is not generally considered a center for New Urbanist design, but there are a number of relatively new developments in the region that reflect these principles. I contend that New Urbanist villages in the Caribbean (such as Orchid Bay in Belize and the Development in The Bahamas, described below, represent a Published in the Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Anthropology 20(3): 513-­‐532. sustainability brand and an updated “fantasy of mobility, accessibility, and island paradise” (Sheller 2009: 1386). Building on the notion of design as integral to urban planning and Anthropocene discourse, I argue (following Latour 2008) that design renders objects formerly considered matters of fact into matters of concern. Design can be interpreted as assemblies of concerns that have been “drawn together,” turning materiality and matter into meaning. Therefore, contemporary design has morality, ethics, and politics in its gatherings and collaborations, and facts can no longer stand for themselves. As Latour puts it, objects become projects. In this frame, sustainable design is a matter of rematerializing design without adherence to the dichotomy between the “Natural” the “Human”. So-called sustainable urbanisms are now cleverly designed and carefully maintained as both nature and humans are consciously designed for the discerning consumer. For Latour, artificiality and redesign are our destiny for the Anthropocene and “the whole fabric of our earthly existence has to be redesigned in excruciating details” (2008: 11). Thus, analytically opening up sustainable design as the drawing together of Anthropocene matters of concern expands our critical attention to the regional politics of design. Finally, I would like to consider the term “worlding” as a concept that explains the mobile design crucible of development, transnational travel, and neoliberal thought and practice that shape today’s urban spaces (Roy 2011). Roy explains that worlding strategies can be seen in elite models for normative investment, development, and growth and in the unruly movements of working-class people according to the vicissitudes of labor and migration (see also Lees 2012). In other words, the production of urban space is coordinated, in part, through multiple, circulating urban design models and referents. Worlding references circulate through the state, through NGOs and middle-class practices, and through tourist development. The point is that urbanisms and worlding processes are material and tied to the specific struggles and territorializations that constitute particular locations (Morenas 2013). An exploration of the politics of design and worlding highlights the specific infrastructures of sustainable tourism projects as part of transnationally circulating conversations about design in the Anthropocene, in which built environments and landscapes become projects for reimagining the living world. I see New Urbanist sustainable tourism as one form of affective urbanism for the Anthropocene, marshaling hope and nostalgia as a brand component (Anderson and Holden 2008). Urban design concepts are not commonly adapted for critical studies of the Published in the Journal of Latin American and Caribbean Anthropology 20(3): 513-­‐532. Caribbean, but in this context they allow for an engagement with the material results of Anthropocene discourse as it affects the development of destination design, branding, and island infrastructure. Caribbean destination design is shaped by worlding desires for stable economic growth, the accumulation of transnational capital, and postcolonial sovereignty. It is simultaneously coconstituted by desires for sustainable socio-natural earthly relations and a growing recognition that existing host/guest encounters are exploitative in island locales, exacerbate overconsumptive inequality, and perpetuate multiple forms of anthropogenic planetary change. As part of sustainable tourism design strategies for the Anthropocene, New Urbanist projects such as the Development (described below) represent new travel brands for international and regional distinction, as well as attempts to create model forms of island belonging and being in the world. In summary, the assemblies of concerns drawn together in model villages for tourist consumption turn abstract ideas like planetary change and the cultural impacts of enclave development into material realities and built environments in which new brand distinctions can be fostered through rearticulated spatial engagements.