Coastal resources management development case studies

[From the U.S. Government Printing Office, www.gpo.gov]

Coastal
Publication rqo.3
Renewable Resources Information Series

.4 JOHN R. CLARK, Editor
RESEARCH PLANNING INSTITUTE, INC.
'41 1 1 1
In cooperation with 14ATIOMAL PARK SERVICE - USDI, and U.S. AGE14CY FOR
INTERNATIO14AL DEVELOPMENT
140

Renewable Resources Information Series
Coastal Management Publication No. 3

COASTAL RESOURCES MANAGEMENT:
DEVELOPMENT CASE STUDIES

JOHN R. CLARK, Editor
National Park Service
Washington, D.C.

COASTAL ZONE

TNFORMATION CENTER

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March 1985

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The opinions, findings, conclusions, or recommendations ex-
pressed in this report are those of the authors and do not neces-
sarily reflect the official view of the National Park Service or
Agency for International Development.

Coastal resources management.

(Renewable resources information series. Coastal management pub-
lication; No. 3.)
"Prepared by Research Planning Institute, Inc., Columbia, South
Carolina, for National Park Service, U.S. Department of the
Interior, and U.S. Agency for International Development."
"March 1985."

Includes bibliographies.
1) Coastal zone management--Developing countries--Case
studies.
2) Shore protection--Developing countries--Case studies.
3) Coastal engineering--Developing countries--Case studies.

1. Clark, John R., 1927-
II. Research Planning Institute (Columbia, S.C.)
III. United States. National Park Service.
IV. United States. Agency for International Development.
.V. Series.

HT395.D44C63 1985 333.91'7'091724 85-60819
ISBN 0-931531-02-0 (pbk.)

Available from: Research Planning Institute, Inc.
925 Gervais Street
Columbia, SC, USA 29201

FOREWORD

Most countries recognize their coastal zones as distinct regions with
resources that require special attention. Many have taken specific actions
to conserve coastal resources and to manage coastal development. A few
have created comprehensive nationwide coastal zone management programs that
are fully integrated with other resource conservation and economic sector
programs. There is a current trend to move toward more comprehensive and
integrated coastal programs. But comprehensive programs must, nevertheless,
be organized to address specific development projects and specific conser-
vation needs in a real world context. This context can best be understood
from real experience, as illustrated in the collected case studies presented
in this book. 1Vhile every type of coastal development is not illustrated,
the authors of the various case studies have done an excellent job in
reporting on fisheries, aquaculture, upland and river development, beach
erosion, islands, marine mining, and mangrove conversion and providing
guidance for managing future development projects that affect coastal
resources.

This casebook is one in a series of publications being produced for
the Agency for International Development (AID) by the National Park
Service (NPS). It's purpose is to provide expert guidance in planning and
management for sustainable coastal dovelopment and for the conservation of
coastal resources. In addition to this book, compiled by the Research
Planning Institute (Contract No. CX-0001-3-0050), the coastal series
includes a comprehensive coastal development guidebook, a report on insti-
tutional arrangements for coastal resources management, and a condensed
design aids booklet.

This coastal series is part of a wider publication and training
partnership between AID and NPS under the "Natural Resources Expanded
Information Base" project commenced in 1980 in response to a worldwide
need for improved approaches to integrated regional planning and project
design. The project is producing publications on arid and semi-arid
rangelands and humid tropic systems as well as on coastal zones. The
publications and training components are dedicated to strengthening the
technical and institutional capabilities of developing countries in
natural resources and environmental protection and to providing other
international development assistance donors with ready access to practical
information.

In a world of rapid population growth and diminishing natural resources,
countries that fail to plan their economic development strategy in concert
with resource conservation and environmental management may not be able to
sustain progress in health, food, housing, energy, and other critical
national needs. Each developing country needs to have a realistic plan
for accomodating its share of the 100 million people per year being added
to the world's population. Such basic resources as fuel, water, fertile
land, and fish stocks are already in short supply in many countries and
their future prospects are in grave doubt.

While the presence of integrated planning and comprehensive management
alone may not assure a sustained and ample yield from the coastal natural
resources of any country, its absence will lead to-their depletion. The
opportunities for development based an excessive exploitation of coastal
natural resources are rapidly fading. The future depends on development
closely linked to resource conservation. In the coastal zone, the need
for an enlightened approach is urgent.

In producing the coastal publication series for AID we realize that we
have, at best, provided a foothold for natural resources aspects of the new
and rapidly expanding field of coastal resources management. Much important
work lies ahead in many of the technical areas. We particularly recognize
the need to provide specific natural resources working materials for
regional planners and economic development planners. Also, there is a
need for advice on protection of life and property against storms and
other coastal-natural hazards. Equally important is advice to planners on
the role for designated protected areas--reserves, parks, sanctuaries--in
tourism enhancement, fish stock management, and critical area and species
conservation. We hope the present series will provide a springboard for
studies on these important matters.

Hugh Bell Muller and Jeffrey Tschirley directed the implementation of
the "Expanded Information Base" project and John Clark managed the coastal
components. We thank AID for supporting the project. We are especially
grateful to Mr. William Feldman, and Ms. Molly Kux, and Mr. William D.
Roseborough of the Office of Forestry, Environment, and Natural Resources
of the Bureau of Science and Technology, for their continuing encouragement
and their patience.

Robert C. Milne
Chief, International Affairs
National Park Service
Washington, D.C.

BIOGRAPHIES OF AUTHORS

Atchue, J.A., III obtained B.S. degrees in Marine Science and
biology from Southampton College in 1976. He spent two years in the
Philippines as a Peace Corps Volunteer where lie worked for the Bureau
of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources as a brackish water fisheries exten-
sion agent during his first year and a regional planner during his
second. He obtained a M.S. degree in biology from Old Dominion Uni-
versity where lie specialized in aquatic and wetland ecology. He is
currently enrolled in a PhD Program at the University of Miami Rosen-
sti6l School of Marine and Atmospheric Sciences where he is working on
the nitrogen cycle in the water column.

Berry, Leonard. Provost 4 Vice President for Academic Affairs,
Professor of Geography, Clark University, PhD Bristol, England. Spe-
cialist in tropical geomorphology, development in East Africa. Author
of over 100 publications on tropical issues. Resident in Africa for
over 12 years. Member of several National Academy of Science panels.
Consultant to USAID, UNDP, and UNEP on those issues.

DuBois, Random, Consultant. Masters in Marine Affairs from
University of Rhode Island (Kingston, RI) 1979; M.S. in Oceanography
from Texas AV University (College Station, TX) 1975. Present research
interests include studying the physical relationships between the
inland and coastal portions of tropical coastal river basins and the
role of man in modifying these relationships. Past research and employ-
ment activities include tropical coastal marine fishery management,
marine resource inventories, coral reef ecology,-ahd the formulation of
coastal and marine resource policy. Mr. DuBois has worked extensively
throughout the Latin American and Caribbean regions and more recently
has worked in Fiji, Kenya and Sri Lanka. Mr. DuBois is currently
completing the requirements towards a PhD in the Department of Geography,
University of Chicago.

Ford, Richard. Professor of History and International Development,
Clark University. Co-Director, Program for International Development,
Clark University. B.A., Economics, Denison University and PhD in
African History, University of Denver (1966). Author of articles and
reports related to resource management pressures, especially in Africa.
Two years as Chief Resource Advisor to the National Environment and
Human Settlements Secretariat, Ministry of Environment and Natural
Resources, Nairobi, Kenya.

Hayes, Miles 0., is a coastal geomorphologist with over 20 years
of experience in research on coastal processes and sedimentation. Ile
has authored over 130 articles and reports on numerous topics relating
to clastic depositional environments, beach erosion, barrier island
morphology, oil pollution, and petroleum exploration. Based on exten-
sive field experience throughout the world! he has developed innovative
techniques regarding environmental protection, depositional modeling,
and shoreline processes. Over the past ten years, he has gained con-
siderable administrative and management experience as director of
research programs at the Universities of Massachusetts and South Caro-
lina (USQ, head of Geology at USC, and founder and president of
Research Planning Institute (since March 1977).

Mahmud, Sarwar. President of M & M Enterprises, Inc.; he acquired
a Masters degree in Geophysics from the University of Sydney, Sydney,
NSW Australia, 1955 and a Bachelors degree in Geology from the Calcutta
University, India, 1947. A professional geologist with considerable
expertise in hydrological and ecological assessments, he conducted
extensive studies on various rivers in the Indo-Pakiston-Bangladesh
subcontinent during the period of 1959 through 1970. Since 1974 he
has been actively engaged in various types of hydrologic and environ-
mental impacts analyses in several states of the U.S.A., and worked on
an AID water resources project in Haiti in 1978.

McCreary, Scott T., PhD Candidate, Massachusetts Institute of
Technology (Urban Studies and Planning). Master's of Landscape
Architecture (Environmental Planning), U. C. Berkeley, 1979. Visiting
Investigator, Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, Galapagos Coastal
Management Program. Assistant to the Editor, AID Case Studies. Cali-
fornia State Coastal Conservancy, Manager for Nonprofits Program and
Project Analyst, Resource Enhancement Program; responsible for a
dozen estuarine and wetland restoration projects. Co-Organizer, First
State of the Bay Conference, San Francisco Oceanic Society. Project
Analyst, U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and
California Coastal Commission; principally responsible for designation
of Tijuana River National Estuarine Sanctuary. Associate, The Conser-
vation Foundation, Coastal Resources Program; work included prepara-
tion of Apalachicola Bay, Florida Shoreline Management Strategy.
County of Monterey, Project Planner, Big Sur Coastal Plan. Sea Grant
Trainee, U. C. Berkeley, participated in development of methods to
assess cumulative impacts of coastal development.

Murray, Robert S., Jr. received a B.S. degree in Biology from
Florida State University in 1963. In 1969 he completed the required
course work for a M.S. in biology, also at FSU. He was then employed
by Marifarms Inc. as Chief Biologist for a Penaeus and Macrobrachium
shrimp culture project in the Republic of Panama. Since 1979 he has
been a Re@earch Associate at the University of Miami, where he worked
on the uses of marine blue-green algae as a feed source in Aquaculture.

Siddall, Scott E. is an Assistant Professor of Marine Science at
the Marine Sciences Research Center, State University of New York at
Stony Brook. He earned his doctorate in biological oceanography at
the Rosenstiel School of Marine and Atmospheric Science of the Univer-
sity of Miami working on the physiological ecology of tropical mussel
larvae. From 1980-1983, he was a member of that School's research
faculty in a program to develop hatchery methods for the queen conch,
an -important marine resource of the Caribbean. Dr. Siddall's research
and teaching activities focus on the biology of mollusc larvae and the
development of mariculture. He is currently involved with the major
shell fisheries of Long Island where a number of resource management
alternatives are being pursued many of which involve mariculture pro-
duction methods. He is an author of more than 20 technical and popular
articles on the early life history of invertebrates and maricutture
methods.

Towle, Edward L. Founder and president of Island Resources
Foundation, St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands. PhD from the University
of Rochester (1966). Area of specialization: island resource planning
and management and the development of management guidelines, standards
and strategies appropriate to oceanic island communities and ecosystems.
Visited and studied over 200 islands in the Mediterranean, Atlantic,
Caribbean and Pacific and worked in more than 30 island states and
territories. Currently a member of IUCN's International Commission
on Environmental Planning and the U.S. Man and the Biosphere Directorate
on "Islands and the Rational Use of Island Ecosystems." President
Caribbean Conservation Association, 1968-74. Consultant to the Canadian,
Swedish, and U.S. International Development Agencies, UNDP, UNESCO,
FAO. Author of over 35 publications including "Ecological Guidelines
for Island Development" (IUCN, 1974) and technical monographs on
coastal resource development for island areas including the technical
background study for the Virgin Islands Coastal Zone Management Program.

vii

Turner, R. Eugene. Professor, Center for Wetland Resources,
Department of Marine Sciences, Louisiana State University, Baton
Rouge, LA. PhD from University of Georgia (Athens, Georgia) 1974.
Interests in wetlands, fisheries, coastal oceanography, ecology.
Author and editor of more than 80 books, articles, and reports on
coastal ecology. Field experience in Atlantic and Guif of Mexico
coasts, Indonesia, and eastern Europe.

Viii

CONTENTS

Page

FOREWORD ............................................................. iii

BIOGRAPHIES OF AUTHORS ................................................ v

1. MARICULTURE DEVELOPMENT IN MANGROVES: A CASE STUDY OF THE
PHILIPPINES, ECUADOR AND PANAMA (Scott E. Siddall, Joseph A. Atchue, III,
and Robert L. Murray, Jr.) ........................................ I

SUMMARY .................................................... 2
1. INTRODUCTION ............................................ 3
2. GEOGRAPHIC COMPARISONS ................................ 7
3. HISTORY OF DEVELOPMENT ................................. 8
3.1. Philippines ........................................ 8
3.2. Ecuador ............................................ 16
3.3. Panama ............................................ 19
4. CURRENT SITUATION ....................................... 27
4.1. Philippines ........................................ 27
4.2. Ecuador ............................................ 30
4.3. Panama ............................................ 36
5. LESSONS LEARNED AND SITE COMPARISONS .................... 37
6. GUIDELINES .............................................. 42
6.1. Technical Measures ................................ 43
6.2. Information Transfer .............................. 46
6.3. Funding Practices .................................. 48
6.4. Administration .................................... 48
LITERATURE CITED ............................................. 50
APPENDICES .................................................. 53

BEACH EROSION (Miles 0. Hayes) ................................. 67

SUMMARY ..................................................... 69
I. INTRODUCTION ............................................ 71
2. THE NATURE OF BEACHES .................................. 72
2.1. Definition ........................................ 72
2.2. Beach Sediments .................................... 72
2.3. Waves on Beaches .................................. 74
2.4. Currents .......................................... 78
2.5. Local Variations in Wave Energy .................... 78
2.6. Transport of Beach Sediment ........................ 81
2.7. The Sediment Budget ................................. 82
2.8. Coastal Dunes ...................................... 86
2.9. The Beach Profile .................................. 86
2.10. The Beach Cycle .................................... 91
2.11. The Three-Dimensional Beach ........................ 97
2.12. Nearshore Bars .................................... 102
3. CAUSES OF BEACH EROSION ................................. 106
3.1. Coastal Morphology ................................ 106
3.2. Vegetation ........................................ 108
3.3. Sea-Level Changes .................................. 109
3.4. Storms ............................................ 113

CONTENTS (Continued)

Page

3. CAUSES OF BEACH EROSION (Continued)
3.5. Tidal and Seasonal Water-Level Changes ............ 120
3.6. Natural Changes in Sand Supply .................... 120
3.7. Man-Induced Changes in Sand Supply ................ 124
4. METHODS USED TO PREVENT BEACH EROSION .................. 130
4.1. Introduction ...................................... 130
4.2. "Hard" Engineering Solutions ...................... 130
4.3. "Soft" Engineering Solutions ...................... 136
5. GENERAL CASE STUDIES .................................... 141
5.1. Introduction ...................................... 141
5.2. Beach Erosion in Russia ............................ 141
5.3. Beach Erosion in Japan ............................ 142
5.4. Beach Erosion in Sri Lanka ........................ 148
5.5. Beach Erosion in Florida (U.S.) .................... 151
6. SPECIFIC CASE STUDIES .................................... 154
6.1. Introduction ...................................... 154
6.2. Erosion in Togo and Benin .......................... 154
6.3. Beach Protection at Lorain, Ohio (U.S.) ............ 160
6.4. Erosion at the Muara Port Area, Brunei ............ 163
6.5. Erosion at Heron Island, Great Barrier Reef
(Australia) ........................................ 167
6.6. Beach Erosion at Seabrook Island, South Carolina
(U.S.) .................. -- .................... 171
7. EROSION ASSESSMENT ................... oo ...o ............ 181
7.1. Introduction ...................................... 181
7.2. Coastal Environmental Assessment .................. 181
7.3. Specific Shoreline Erosion Inventories ............ 183
8. LESSONS LEARNED ........................................ 187
9. GUIDELINES .............................................. 187
LITERATURE CITED ............................................ 190

CORAL HARVESTING AND SAND MINING MANAGEMENT PRACTICES
(Random DuBois and Edward L. To@wle) . 203

SUMMARY .................................................... 204
1 . INTRODUCTION ........................................... 205
2. STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM ............................... 207
3. THE RESOURCE ........................................... 209
3.1. Coastal Minerals .................................. 209
3.2. Uses .............................................. 212
3.3. Methods of Extraction .............................. 214
4. ENVIRONMENTAL CONTEXT .................................. 222
4.1. Coastal Dynamics .................................. 222
4.2. Biological Considerations .......................... 225
4.3. Physical Impacts .................................. 231
4.4. Toxic Sediments .................................... 231
5. EXAMPLES ............................................... 233
5.1. Coral Harvesting and Mining ........................ 233
5.2. Beach Sand Mining .................................. 242
5.3. Marine Sand Mining ................................ 255

CONTENTS (Continued)

Page

6. ALTERNATIVE MANAGEMENT APPROACHES ..................... 266
6.1. Coral Mining ...................................... 266
6.2. Beach Sand Mining .................................. 269
6.3. Marine Sand Mining ................................ 269
6.4. New Technologies .................................. 269
7. ATTEMPTS AT RESTORATION ................................ 271
7.1. Beach Nourishment .................................. 271
7.2. Dredge Pit Stabilization .......................... 272
7.3. Coral Restoration .................................. 273
8. LESSONS LEARNED ........................................ 275
8.1. Coral Mining ...................................... 275
8.2. Beach Sand Mining .................................. 275
8.3. Marine Sand Mining ................................ 276
9. GUIDELINES .............................................. 279
LITERATURE CITED ............................................ 283

IV. COASTAL FISHERIES MANAGEMENT LESSONS LEARNED FROM THE
CARIBBEAN (Random DuBois) ................................... 291

SUMMARY .................................................... 292
1 . INTRODUCTION ............................................ 293
2. BASIC PRINCIPLES ......................................... 296
2.1. Management Objectives .............................. 296
2.2. Management Tools .................................. 296
2.3. Management Constraints ............................ 298
3. HISTORY ................................................. 300
3.1. The Region ........................................ 300
3.2. The Waters ........................................ 300
3.3. The Resources ...................................... 301
3.4. Regional Exploitation Patterns .................... 308
3.5. Management Responses .............................. 310
4. SITE EXAMPLES ... * ......... 314
4.1. U.S. Virgin Islands ................................ 314
4.2. Antigua ............................................ 321
4.3. Belize ............................................ 324
4.4. Turks and Caicos .................................. 329
5. COMPARING MANAGEMENT APPROACHES ..................... 335
5.1. Belize ............................................ 335
5.2. Turks and Caicos .................................. 339
5.3. U.S. Virgin Islands ................................ 341
5.4. Antigua ............................................ 342
5.5. Analysis .......................................... 343
6. OVERCOMING MANAGEMENT CONSTRAINTS .................... 345
6.1. National Constraints .............................. 345
6.2. Regional Constraints .............................. 349
6.3. Regional Planning .................................. 351
7. LESSONS LEARNED ........................................ 352
7.1. Economic Significance .............................. 352
7.2. Market Considerations .............................. 352
7.3. Over-Fishing Risks ................................ 352
7.4. Management Requirements ............................ 353

CONTENTS (Continued)

Page

8. GUIDELINES .............................................. 355
LITERATURE CITED ............................................ 357
APPENDIX I .................................................. 362

V. COASTAL FISHERIES, AGRICULTURE AND MANAGEMENT IN INDONESIA:
CASE STUDIES FOR THE FUTURE (R. Eugene Turner) .................. 373

SUMMARY ..................................................... 374
1 . INTRODUCTION ............................................ 375
2. SEGARA ANAKAN .......................................... 382
2.1. Introduction and Area Description .................. 382
2.2. Development ........................................ 85
2.3. Decisions .......................................... 395
2.4. Subsequent Events and Analysis .................... 96
3. BANJARMASIN ........................................... 01
3.1. Introduction and Area Description .................. 401
3.2. Farming Practices .................................. 02
3.3. Populating the Land ................................ 409
3.4. Spontaneous and Government Sponsored Migrants ...... 412
3.5. Future Concerns .................................... 414
4. LESSONS LEARNED ........................................ 419
4.1. Local Participation ................................ 419
4.2. Natural Resource Agency Support .................... 420
4.3. Information Gaps .................................. 421
4.4. Ecological Planning ................................ 423
4.5. Mid-Course Correction .............................. 423
4.6. Complete Project Analysis ..........................
4.7. Interagency Cooperation ............................ 425
5. GUIDELINES .............................................. 426
LITERATURE CITED ............................................ 433

V1. CATCHMENT LAND USE AND ITS IMPLICATIONS FOR COASTAL RESOURCES
CONSERVATION (Random DuBois, with Leonard Berry and Richard Ford)

SUMMARY .................................................... 444
1. INTRODUCTION ........................................... 445
2. STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM ............................... 448
2.1. Overview .......................................... 448
2.2. Athi Catchment (Kenya) ............................ 450
3. COASTAL CHARACTERIZATION ............................... 454
3.1. Kenya's Coast ...................................... 454
3.2. Sabaki (Athi) Coastal Area ........................ 454
3.3. Malindi Town ...................................... 457
3.4. Coastal Wind and Current Regimes .................. 460

xii

CONTENTS (Continued)

Page

4. CATCHMENT CHARACTERIZATION ............................ 464
4.1. The River Corridor ................................ 464
4.2. Geology ............................................ 466
4.3. Climate ............................................ 467
4.4. Human Population .................................. 470
4.5. Land Use and Its Potential ........................ 470
4.6. Water Use .......................................... 471
5. HUMAN ACTIVITIES IN THE UPLANDS CAUSING COASTAL CHANGE .. 474
5.1. Sources of Erosion ................................ 474
5.2. Pollution .......................................... 478
6. COASTAL ENVIRONMENTAL IMPACTS ......................... 480
6.1. Sedimentations .................................... 480
6.2. Coral Die-off ...................................... 481
6.3. Pollution .......................................... 484
6.4. Reductions in Sedimentation Rates .................. 485
7. COASTAL ECONOMIC IMPACTS ............................... 486
7.1. Tourism ............................................ 486
7.2. Water Treatment .................................... 487
7.3. Increased Flood Risk .............................. 487
7.4. Pollution .......................................... 489
7.5. Fisheries .......................................... 489
7.6. Port Development .................................. 491
8. SOLUTIONS ............................................... 493
9. LESSONS LEARNED ........................................ 497
10. GUIDELINES .............................................. 500
LITERATURE CITED .............................................. 503

VII. IMPACTS OF RIVER FLOW CHANGES ON COASTAL ECOSYSTEMS
(Sawar Mahmud) ................................................ 511

SUMMARY ..................................................... 512
1 . INTRODUCTION ............................................ 513
1.1. General Background and Justification .............. 513
1.2. Brief Historical Perspective on the Role of
Freshwater Inflow to Estuaries .................... 514
1.3. Economic Importance of Coastal Ecosystems .......... 518
1.4. Methods of Investigation and Analysis .............. 521
2. THE EFFECTS OF FLOW CHANGES IN SELECTED RIVERS ON COASTAL
ECOSYSTEMS .............................................. 524
2.1. The Apalachicola River and Bay System .............. 524
2.2. The Atchafalaya River and Atachafalaya Bay ........ 528
2.3. The Colorado River, Texas .......................... 533
2.4. Trinity River and the Trinity-San Jacinto Estuary .. 540
2.5. The Nueces River and Nueces-Corpus Christi Bay
System ............................................ 546
2.6. The Potomac River Estuary and Chesapeake Bay ...... 548
2.7. The Susquehanna River Segment of the Chesapeake Bay
System ............................................ 553
2.8. The Yadkin-Pee Dee System ........ 556
2.9. The Cooper and Santee River Estuaries .............. 559
2.10. The Sacramento-San Joaquin Estuary ................ 562
2.11. The Colorado River System .......................... 565
xiii

CONTENTS (Continued)

Page

3. SUMMARY OF LESSONS LEARNED ............................ 570
4. PROPOSED GUIDELINES ..................................... 577
LITERATURE CITED ............................................ 583

Vill. THE ISLAND MICROCOSM (Edward L. Towle) ......................... 589

SUMMARY .................................................... 591
1 . INTRODUCTION ............................................ 593
1.1. Continental Perspectives on Islands ................ 593
1.2. Contemporary Pressures on Islands Systems: An
Overview .......................................... 595
1.3. Study Objectives .................................. 597
1.4. Antecedent Methodological Considerations .......... 597
1.5. Case Study Methodological Design .................. 600
2. STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM .............................. 603
2.1. Dimensional Considerations: The Universe of
Islands ............................................ 603
2.2. Definitional and Conceptual Considerations: The
Universe of Islands ................................ 604
2.3. The "Island System" Concept ........................ 606
2.4. Understanding the Difference ...................... 607
3. INSULAR SYSTEMS: CLASSIFICATION AND CHARACTERISTICS ..... 609
3.1. The Taxonomy Problem .............................. 609
3.2. Classification Approaches .......................... 611
3.3. Classifying Islands as Laboratories: The Ecosystem
Model .............................................. 613
3.4. Changes in Focus: Islands as a "Special Case .. ..... 615
4. THE CARIBBEAN REGION: EXAMPLES AND LESSONS .............. 618
4.1. Rodney Bay Development, St. Lucia (1968-1984) ...... 620
4.2. Virgin Islands Mangrove Lagoon (1967-1984) ........ 641
4.3. ECNAMP: A Regional NGO/PUO Participatory Planning
Approach .......................................... 669
5. THE PACIFIC ISLAND REALM: EXAMPLES AND LESSONS .......... 674
5.1. Regional Overview .................................. 674
5.2. Fiji: The Regional Center ........................ 675
5.3. Fiji and the Coastal Zone .......................... 677
5.4. Center-Periphery Questions (The UNESCO/MAB Fiji
Project) .......................................... 685
5.5. The CCOP/SOPAC Regional Coastal Zone Strategy for
Islands ............................................ 692
6. TECHNICAL CONSIDERATIONS ................................ 697
6.1. Island Vulnerability: The Search for a Model ...... 697
6.2. Coastal and Marine Resources: An Island Dilemma ... 705
6.3. The Economic Significance of Island Coastal/Marine
Resources .......................................... 713
6.4. Island Coastal Resource Planning .................. 716
7. SYNTHESIS: FROM THEORY TO PRACTICE ...................... 721
7.1. The Island Puzzle .................................. 721
7.2. The Island Ecosystem Paradigm ...................... 722
7.3. Towards a New Paradigm ............................ 723

xiv

CONTENTS (Continued)

Page

8. LESSONS LEARNED ......................................... 728
8.1. Islands as Unique .................................. 728
8.2. Limitations to the Island Microcosm Concept ........ 728
8.3. Limitations to the Insular Coastal Zone Concept .... 729
8.4. Technical Limits and Options ...................... 730
9. GUIDELINES .............................................. 733
LITERATURE CITED ............................................ 738

Case Study One

MARICULTURE DEVELOPMENT IN MANGROVES:
A CASE STUDY OF THE PHILIPPINES,

ECUADOR AND PANAMA

Scott E. Siddall, Joseph A. Atchue, III,

and Robert L. Murray, Jr.

SUMMARY

The purpose of this project was to investigate how the Philippines,
Ecuador and Panama deal with the problem of balancing mariculture
expansion with the protection of mangrove resources. These
countries were visited during July and August of 1983. During the
visits literature and data were obtained which were not readily
available in the U.S. and interviews were conducted with officials

involved in resource management and aquaculture, with mariculturists and
with others involved in exploitation of the resource, such as coastal
fishermen and fry ga,therers. All of the countries evidenced some
understanding of the need to protect the mangrove resource, and had
administrative structures to protect it, but in the Philippines and
Ecuador pressure to remove mangroves was high. It appears that all
three countries would benefit from a more intensive approach to
mariculture. Guidelines with regard to mariculture development and
mangrove conservation are presented.

INTRODUCTION

In several areas of the world, valuable and ecologically sensitive coastal
habitats--mangrove swamps--are being destroyed in the construction
of ponds used to rear fish and shrimp. The objective of this case study
is to summarize existing information and document current trends in
mangrove management and development. Before intelligent discussion can
proceed, several definitions of concepts are required.
Aquaculture is a general term describing man's efforts to manipulate
natural cycles of aquatic organisms in order to enhance production of
aquatic resources for his benefit. Approximately 15% of the 60-million-
metric-ton world fishing harvest is derived from aquaculture. Mariculture,
actually a subset of aquaculture, is a more specific term referring to
the manipulation of marine plants and animals for man's benefit. This
case study concerns mariculture developments in coastal and estuarine
habitats where mangroves are found.
The scale of mariculture ranges from subtle manipulations of unconfined,
natural populations to technologically oriented, highly controlled pro-
duction of plants or animals in artificial environments. Typically,
intensive mariculture systems have higher yields of product per unit space,
but the greater yields require more money, more energy and more technology.
Intensive mariculture does not, however, require a great deal of space. Less
intensive systems achieve profitable yields by virtue of being extensive in
area. While many costs are reduced, space requirements are much greater.
Yields per unit area are lower, but this is offset by having more extensive

areas under production.

These comparisons are not unique to mariculture, but they are an important
aspect of this study (Table 1).

Table 1. Tradeoffs for intensive vs. extensive mariculture.

Mariculture Yield Per Costs in Technology Space
Approach Unit Area Money, Energy Requirement

Intensive High High High Low
Extensive Low Low Low High

Therefore, to a greater or lesser degree, extensive and intensive
mariculture require space. The space required for an extensive system may
be reduced if the operation is "intensified." Intensification of a
mariculture system achieves greater yields of fish or shrimp per unit area
by increasing material and labor input (fertilizers, locally available
supplemental foods, greater water flow, more advanced handling methods).
Selection of a location for any mariculture operation is the most
important determinant of the operation's potential for success. From the
mariculturist's viewpoint, the most appropriate sites are those nearest the
natural habitat of the species being cultured, in this case, fish or
shrimp. Coastal sites within or near the mangrove forests provide sources
of clean seawater and abundant stocks of juveniles which may be collected
and reared to market size.
Mangroves, of which there are at least 55 species, are tropical
hardwoods adapted for growth in marine intertidal, estuarine, river and
other coastal habitats. Mangrove swamps receive nutrients from tidal
flushing and river runoff. Their adaptation to these habitats results in
very rapid growth. Thriving in unstable coastal environments, mangrove
forests are subject to destruction by natural forces -- hurricanes,
diversion of freshwater runoff, and shifts in patterns of tidal flushinR.
Different species of mangrove grow in different areas depending upon
salinity, tides and soil types. Mangroves are generally categorized as
fringe, riverine, overwash and basin forests (Lugo and Snedaker, 1974).

The productivity of mangrove swamps is well known with litter production
ranging from 3.6 to 9.7 metric tons per ha (Golley et al., 1962; Heald,
1971; Lugo and Snedaker, 1974; Christensen, 1978; Aksornkoae and Khemnark,
1980; Goulter and Allaway, 1980; Steinke, 1980). Leaf litter undergoes
microbial transformations which causes an increase in the amount of protein
available (Odum and Heald, 1975) thus making the litter a prime food source
for both juvenile and larval fish or crustaceans (Odum and Heald, 1972;
Prince Jeyaseelan and Krishnamurthy, 1980; Macnae, 1974; Martosubroto and
Naamin, 1977; Daugherty, 1975). An excellent review of the importance of
mangroves to fisheries and aquaculture has recently been written by
MacIntosh (1983). In it he suggests that half of the productivity of
mangrove swamps ends up being transported to the waters adjacent to the
swamps where it is utilized by the nearshore fish and crustacean

communities.

This dependence of economically important species on intact and
productive mangrove systems further complicates the issues of coastal
mariculture development. While incontrovertible scientific data
illustrating links between mangroves and coastal productivity does not
exist, it is clear that the existence of many natural fish and shrimp
stocks is related to mangrove production. The basis for productivity in
mangroves, coastal waters and mariculture ponds are all part of the same
ecosystem; alterations to any component of the system may lead to changes

in others.

Specifically, mariculture operations remove postlarvae and juvenile fish
and shrimp from the mangrove ecosystem for rearing in ponds sited nearby.
However, larvae of other commercially exploited species also depend upon
the mangrove swamps for refuge and development. While the removal of
larvae and juveniles is targeted at specific species of fish and shrimp,
other species are either directly or indirectly affected. Conclusive data
on the effects of large-scale harvests of juveniles on coastal productivity
(landings in traditional and nearshore catch fisheries, in particular) are
wanting. Motoh (1981) has pointed out that many shrimp fry collectors
discard less desirable fry rather than replacing them in the water.
Futhermore, in many areas grow-out ponds have been placed directly in

mangroves which have been clearcut and excavated. These grow-out ponds
generally range in size from 1 to 20 ha and are used to grow juvenile fish
and shrimp to marketable size. Where extensive areas of mangroves have
been removed for mariculture operations, landings in adjacent catch
fisheries appear to have declined, but again there is little evidence to
11prove" these as cause and effect relationships.
Based on these concepts, we can refine the definition of this study's
objectives:
1) To describe economic pressures which promote extensive mariculture
developments in and around environmentally sensitive and important

mangrove ecosystems.
2) To summarize estimates of the rate at which mangrove areas are being
destroyed for sites of fish and shrimp production ponds.
3) To describe the short- and long-term costs and benefits of such
development.
4) To integrate this information into guidelines to promote the economic
benefits of mariculture production while conserving mangroves. Three
countries were chosen for this study: The Philippines, with a long
history of extensive mariculture of milkfish (Chanos chanos), Ecuador,
where cultured shrimp (principally Penaeus vannamei) has become the
second most important export product of the nation, and Panama, where
recent development of extensive shrimp culture has succeeded.
The methods used in this study are detailed in Appendix 1. Two
Two University of Miami researchers with extensive experience in Philippine
milkfish culture (J. A. Atchue, III) and Panamanian shrimp operations (R. L.
Murray, Jr.) traveled to these countries to conduct interviews, collect
data and update earlier information. Mr. Murray also traveled briefly to
Ecuador; his new material is supplemented by contributions to the study by
Dr. Joshua Dickinson (Gainesville, Florida). Dr. Bruce Austin (South
Atlantic Fisheries Management Council) performed the economic evaluations.
Discussion of the findings and analyses will follow geographical and
historical descriptions of mariculture development and mangrove management
in the three nations.

Collation of new and existing data made apparent a number of lessons

learned in each of the case study nations. Critical analysis of these
lessons in terms of resource management, mariculture production and the
political and economic needs of developing coastal nations led to the
formation of more generic or global guidelines addressing mariculture
development in tropical coastal habitats.
The work presented here was supported by the National Park Service
(NPS) (contract CX-001-3-49). We wish to thank the following people
for their assistance: J. Clark, S. McCreary, NPS; M. Kux, I. Asher,
M. Hatziolas, U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID);
J. Dickinson, Environmental Management; B. Austin, South Atlantic
Fishery Management Council; R. Edwards, S. Berkley, S. Snedaker,
S. Hersh (drafting) and K. Seykora (typing), Rosenstiel School of
Marine and Atmospheric Science (RSMAS). Supplemental funding was
supplied by Dean Alan Berman, RSMAS. Finally, several"anonymous

reviewers were also very helpful.

2. GEOGRAPHIC COMPARISONS

The Philippines is an archipelago of more that 7,000 islands formed by a
combination of tectonic and reef-building processes. The four climate
types covered throughout the Philippines are all dominated to one extent or
another by monsoons. Additionally,Luzon is hit by several typhoons each
year. Both Panama and Ecuador are much closer to the equator than the
Philippines and their climates are truly tropical. Ecuador, with 284,000
square km, is not much smaller than the Philippines (294,000 square km),
while Panama (83,000 square km) is the smallest nation in the study. The
population density of the Philippines (163 people per square km) is however
more than seven times greater than that of either Ecuador (29 people per
square km) or Panama (24 people per square km). The populations of all
three nations are growing. The Philippines leads with a 3% increase per

year.
The relationship between extent of coastline to the total area, is
different for each country. The Philippines has more that 18,000 km of
coastline by virtue of being an island nation; Ecuador has less that 700
km of shore. Panama's Pacific coast is approximately 1,200 km long.
Although a large number of mangrove species are found in the
Philippines, the coastlines are dominated by Rhizophora apiculata,

R. mucronata and Avicennia marina (Chapman, 1974). The coasts of both
Ecuador and Panama are dominated by Rhizophora mangle, R. brevistyla,
Avicennia marina and Laguncularia racemosa (Chapman, 1974; Garibaldi,1982).
For purposes of this case study, Ecuador and Panama have common features
of geographical importance, while the Philippines represent a different
suite of characteristics. This offers the study opportunity for
comparisons and contrasts.

3. HISTORY OF DEVELOPMENT

3.1 Philippines
Mariculture in coastal areas of the Philippines has a long history, perhaps
as long as 500 years. The earliest recorded fishpond was established in
1863 in Rizal Province (Census of the Philippines, 1921). For the most
part coastal mariculture relied on natural embayments which could be easily
blocked for control of water flow. Little if any pond construction went
on, and other than the actual harvest, management was not practiced.
By the beginning of this century, mariculture practices had changed.
Although by today's standard, Philippine mariculture of 80 years ago could
not be called intensive, there was nevertheless a much larger input of
money and other resources. One of the major changes was a movement away
from the use of natural embayments to construction of ponds for producing
milkfish. Such pond-based mariculture demands more management input than
does casual stocking of embayments.
For the first half of this century, most mariculture production was
centered in embayments in and adjacent to mangrove swamps. Initially,
preferred sites for the new ponds were also in the mangrove habitat.
Although accurate records do not exist, we conservatively estimate that,
prior to the early 1950's, not more than 85,000 ha of mangroves were
removed for fishpond development.
After the 1950's, mariculture production was perceived, by both the
government and the fishing industry, as an important adjunct to the catch
fisheries in the Philippines. Additionally, prices demanded by milkfish
(the principal product of Philippine mariculture throughout this century)

1i80E
0 kilometers 460 PHILIPPINES
-180N
N 1000 hectares
Luzon of f ishponds

?,C% PACIFIC
Manila OCEAN
'r*4 0 3
-130N t 13ON-

SOUTH
CHINA
SEA 00

8ON 8@ N-

@60E

Figure 1. Map of the Philippines showing areas of fishpond
n, 1 80@

concentration (redrawn from Oshima,1973).

@'O' 110is-k

Figure 2. This complex of fishponds has grown up over the past 7
years in Cebu province (Pbilippines). The ponds are leased by a
number of private investors. Note canal, at lower left, for inlet
of water. Their average area is 5-10 ha. Unlike Ecuadorian and
Panamanian facilities, Philippine fishponds rely almost entirely
on tidal flushing (photo by J. Atchue).

were making investment in the industry more attractive. As an example,
five towns in Pangasinan Province had a total of 940 ha of fishponds in
1953, but by 1976, the total area was 3,940 ha with a probable increase of
several hundred hectares since that time (M. Rice, pers. comm.). This
pattern is typical throughout the Philippines. A large number of small to
medium scale entrepreneurs, mostly from the middle and upper-middle class,
have continued to build fishponds almost exclusively at the expense of
mangrove resources. The fishpond industry in some regions though (e.g.,
Iloilo) is operated for the most p-art by wealthy individuals (Oshima,
1973). Figure 2 shows a concentration of fishponds in Cebu, while Figure I
shows current mariculture operations in the Philippines.
Apparently, there was little motivation to regulate mariculture
development until the early 1950's when what is now the Bureau of Fisheries
and Aquatic Resources (BFAR) was formed. Through the early 1970's,
clearance from the Bureau of Forestry Development (BFD) and a Fish Pond
Permit were all that was needed to convert an area of mangrove into
fishpond. The granting of these clearances and permits were in essence pro

forma.

With the advent of martial law in 1972, mangrove swamps passed from
private ownership to public trust (Presidential Decree 704) administered
jointly by BFD and BFAR. People who owned fishponds at the time of the
decree were encouraged to apply for Fishpond Lease Agreements (initially of
10-years'term but later increased to 25 years). The granting of these
agreements (FLA's) became more restricted primarily because most new
fishponds were built with money from the Development Bank of the
Philippines (DBP). However, at this time the official policy of BFAR is
still the continued expansion of fishpond area.
These policies encouraging extensive mariculture development promulgated
by BFAR appear to have been caused by two factors. The first was the
genuine belief that mangrove swamps served little function in Philippine
coastal fisheries production. The second factor was the 23.6 million
dollars made available by the International Bank for Reconstruction and
Development specifically for fishpond production. Very few developing
countries can afford to turn down large sums of international

development money and the Philippines has not been an exception.
Responsibility for loss of mangrove swamps can be attributed at least
partially to economic assistance from the Western world.
By the mid-1970's when more than 170,000 ha of mangroves had been
removed for mariculture development, a number of scientists, both in the
Philippines and abroad,had begun to voice concern about the loss of the
resource. Since research in mangrove ecosystems was in its infancy, there
was little evidence to present to the government, only a growing uneasiness
that a problem was developing. Figure 3 C shows the expansion of fishpond
areas during the twentieth century with respect to the 1967 estimate of
mangrove area, while Figure 4 shows yields of fishpond production since
1952. Based on these estimates, fishponds now occupy approximately 45% of
the original mangrove forests.
There is considerable variability in the field data on which these
estimates are based, however, and not all mangrove conversions or
alterations may be attributed to mariculture development. Other very
important uses of mangroves include clearcut logging principally for
charcoal production and also for construction purposes. Sustained-yield
management of mangrove forests for lumber production is not widely
practiced in any of the case-study nations, yet successful models of such
management do exist in Asia (Matang Mangrove Forest Reserve, Peninsular
Malaysia; Ong, 1983).
The government did respond to mounting concerns by forming the Land
Classification Teams (LCT's, under Special Order No. 3). These LCT's
function through regional government agencies and are composed of personnel
from BFAR, BFD and the Bureau of Lands. Their purpose is to certify which
areas of mangrove swamps may be utilized for fishpond construction,
lumbering activities or conservation purposes. In their early actions, the
LCT's did little to change the tendencies of governmental policies to
support extensive mariculture. However, after Presidential Decrees 2151
and 2152, they adopted a more conservation-oriented approach.
The Ministry of Natural Resources, of which BFAR and BFD are agencies,
is under direct order of the President to accelerate the rate at which
mangrove areas are declared either refuges or conservation areas (Deputy

(A) 300
1001 A. Ecuador IUCN(1978)160,000
50,000
Ha x 103 40,

20 6,870

0
1900 110 '20 '30 '40 '50 '60 '70 '80 '90
Year
(B) 600- B. Panama
IUCN(1978)486,000----
400-

Ha x 103 3,725

2- 1,942

0
1900 '10 120 '30 '40 '50 160 '70 '80 '90
Year
(C) 600- C. Philippines

400- (1967) 420,700 --------

Ha x1O 3 200 195,000

100 88,681

0
1900 110 120 130 '40 '50 '60 '70 '80 '90
Year
)16,8

/1,94.

qR @Sql

Figure 3. This graph shows the relative amounts of fish or shrimp
pond areas in each country. The upper lines represent various
estimates of the areal extent of mangroves. Note horizontal scale
adjustments.

900

800

Kg/ha.
Yield

600

Soo

400

300?
60 64 "6A "72 '76 80
Yea r

Figure 4. This figure shows the yield of milkfish in the Philippines. The relatively large increase
since 1979 shows that high-quality extension services can increase pond yields. (*The Bureau
claimed that no fishpond development took place between 1975 and 1981. We felt it was more
realistic to assume an increase of approximately 2,300 ha per year for that period rather than
the 19,000 reported between 1981 and 1982. This leads to a difference between our yield figures
and those published by BFAR in their Fisheries Statistics for 1982). (Source: Fisheries
Statistics of the Philippines, 1981).

Minister Caoili, pers. comm.). Through Presidential Decrees 704 (Forestry
Reform Code), the emphasis of policies of the Ministry is to concentrate
on increasing yields of existing ponds rather than the creation of new
ones. Additionally, Presidential Decree 950 was intended to promote
conservation by requiring the holder of any fishpond lease to plant or
leave untouched a 20-meter border of mangroves around ponds, and to leave
intact larger borders of mangroves adjacent to rivers or the sea (PD 705).
The value of the narrow borders as tools in management of the mangrove
resource is questionable. They do partially protect pond constructions and
adjacent areas from storm damage, but they almost certainly do not function
either biologically or economically as intact mangrove swamps. The size at
which these these borders might actually fill the role of intact swamps has

not been determined.

BFAR requires potential fishpond lessees to complete a project
feasibility study on development of the area and projected fishpond
productivity. Current 25-year leases may be renewed for an additional 25
years and require the leasee to develop at least 50% of the pond to
commercial scale in five years. The remainder must be developed to
commercial scale within another five years or undeveloped leased areas
automatically revert back to the Bureau for disposition. Abandoned ponds
also revert to BFAR for reassignment.
The National Mangrove Committee (NMC) of the Natural Resources
Management Center (NRMC) was also established in 1976 (Special Order 309).
Both levels of this organization are attempting to halt fishpond
construction, at least until better data are available on the interactions
and dependencies of mangrove swamps and coastal productivity. This type of
supportive data is now being gathered principally by the University of the
Philippines and the Forestry Research Institute (FORI), at a research
station for mangrove ecosystems which was established in the mid-1970's in
Quezon Province. The National Mangrove Committee has developed guidelines
for selecting mangrove areas for conservation or preservation (see Appendix
II).

The coastal zone management plan of the Philippines as described by
Zamora (1979) has as its objectives to assess the status and use of coastal
resources, formulate a master plan for use and conservation, initiate
projects for best use of coastal resources, and recommend policies to
the National Environmental Protection Council (NEPC). The coastal zone

task force is comprised of 22 government agencies. The World Bank has
sponsored a coastal zone management program in the Central Visayas for
implementation in 1984 which will attempt to promote use of mangrove swamps
as renewable, multi-use resources rather than as objects of one-time-only
resource mining. USAID is also addressing coastal zone management through
its Rainfed Resources Project. The latter project is attempting to link
uplands, coastal plains and coastal fisheries in a comprehensive program
which addresses specific problems in each area.
The current interest in mangrove conservation notwithstanding, there are
still many issues to resolve. The major threat to mangrove conservation
lies at the provincial and regional levels where the number of staff is
limited while the number of tasks, in addition to monitoring mangrove
usage, is great. As a result, opportunities for mangrove resource

management are often lost.

3.2 Ecuador

The Incas farmed shrimp in Ecuador as long as 400 years ago by closing off
lagoons temporarily flooded with seawater and penaeid shrimp larvae
(Shayne, pers. com.). Modern shrimp farming began in 1962 by accident when
high tides destroyed a levee around a coconut plantation, flooding the area
with shrimp-laden seawater. By the time repairs were made, the shrimp
postlarvae had grown to market size (Hirono, 1983). The first commercial
operations began in 1969; heavy investment in shrimp pond operations began
in 1977 after some of the early farms were proven to be economically sound.
The 1982 shrimp harvest from ponds accounted for 44% of Ecuador's fish
product exports, making fish the second most important export of the nation
after petroleum. Such large-scale development of the Ecuadorian shrimp
farming industry has provided as many as 19,000 new jobs by some estimates.
The impact of pond production can be seen in Tables 2 and 3 which show
the relatively large increases in shrimp exported by Ecuador to the U.S.

Table 2. Shrimp exports to the United States from Ecuador, Panama and Mexico
(1977-1982) in millions of pounds.

% Change
1977 1978 1979 1980 1981 1982 1977-1982

Ecuador 8.61 10.95 13.70 20.19 24.73 36.12 320%

Panama 10.07 9.15 12.20 13.73 15.92 17.62 75%

Mexico 76.25 72.45 71.89 76.06 70.87 80.17 5%

Table 3. Value of shrimp exports to the United States from Ecuador,
Panama and Mexico (1977-1982) in millions of dollars.

% Change
1977 1978 1979 1980 1981 1982 1977-1982

Ecuador 24.00 30.03 54.48 68.08 80.30 136.51 +469%

Panama 27.55 27.54 49.80 46.20 55.41 61.22 +122%

Mexico 187.92 170.49 294.61 316.84 290.31 374.73 +99%

(Source: Current fishery statistics series, fisheries of the United
States, U.S. Dept. of Commerce, NOAA National Marine Fisheries Service.)

Although the preferred sites for ponds are salt flats (salitralis or
albinas, in Spanish) devoid of vegetation, estimates of the removal of
mangroves for ponds from Ecuador's total mangrove resource of approximately
200,000 ha range from 5% (National Fisheries Institute, J. Dickinson,
pers. comm.) to 29% (based on a study of aerial photographs from 1966,
1977 and 1982 of 8,500 ha in the Machala area, CLIRSEN, 1983). Samuel
Bellentini, a shrimp producer in Manabil estimated that 50% of the
mangroves in the Bahia de Caraquez have been lost to shrimp ponds (FAO
Mangrove Symposium, Guayaquil, July 1983). Figure 3 A depicts this rapid
increase in total area of shrimp ponds relative to estimates of the
mangrove resource, while Figure 5 shows the extent of mangroves in the
country. As in the Philippines and Panama, mangroves are exploited by users
other than in shrimp mariculture. Charcoal production and logging for
construction timbers are important economic activities which remove
mangrove forests.
Estimates of areal extent of Ecuador's mangroves vary from 160,000 ha

Mangrove Areas
of Ecuador
Emmangroves Ki lom .eters *50

PACIFIC
'Qb ECUADOR
OCEAN

Gulf
of
Guayaquil

Figure 5. Map of the major mangrove areas in Ecuador. (Source:
El Oro

Anonymous)

(G. Clintron, pers. comm.) to 316,800 ha (R. Horna, pers. comm.; Yoong and
Reinoso, 1982). Coastal zone maps recently published by the National
Program of Agrarian Regionalization (PRONAREG) based on 1982 CLIRSEN
(Ecuadorian Center for Integrated Resource Inventory using Remote Sensing)
aerial photography should update these variable estimates.

Several Ecuadorian institutions are involved in coastal resource

management and development. The Association of Cultivators of Bioaquatic
Species (ACEBA) headed by Mr. F. Orellana represents a group of 35 shrimp
producers who appear to be most interested in rational, productive
management of shrimp ponds, mangrove protection and control of export
licensing. This Association represents shrimp farming interests in
lobbying efforts and exerts a measure of leadership over the industry. The
Ministry of Defense has jurisdiction over the coastal zone in the interests
of national security while the Merchant Marine grants concession for shrimp
ponds. A permit from the Navy is needed to undertake any construction in
areas up to 8 m above the high tide, and areas subject to tidal inundation.
The concessions are renewable and usually last 10 years, however, they are
not supposed to be given in mangrove areas. Public protests have resulted
from blatant mangrove removal and the Ministry of Defense appears to be
aware of the need to enforce these policies.
The Subsecretaria de Pesca of the Ministry of Natural Resources
has overall responsibility for fisheries and mariculture while the Forestry
Program, within the Ministry of Agriculture, oversees mangrove forests and
associated fauna and the National Parks. Research and teaching activities
related to both mangroves and shrimp production are conducted by ESPOL, the
Polytechnic Institute of the Littoral. The Oceanographic Institute of the
Navy also conducts research.

3.3 Panama
Panamanian exports of shrimp (caught and cultured) to the U.S. were valued
at US$61 million in 1982, representing 80% of all fishery exports (see
Table 3). While fishery products (primarily shrimp) are the second most
important export item in Ecuador, shrimp (as shown in Figure 6) alone
is the second most valuable export of Panama, after bananas. Landings from

41,

Figure 6. These shrimp (Penaeus vannamei) are part of a crop from a
typical Panamanian shrimp pond facility. Moto by R. Murray).

traditional shrimp catch fisheries have varied from 5,000-7,000 metric
tons per year with a fleet of 280 vessels involved (McCoy, 1981). Borema
(1961) estimated that penaeid shrimp capture fisheries in Panama would
reach a maximum catch per unit effort (CPUE) if 150 to 200 vessels were
active in this Pacific coast fishery, and the maximum sustainable yield
would be reached with 230 vessels. These estimates indicate offshore stocks
of shrimp in Panama are over-fished. Clearly, increased exports of shrimp
based on increased mariculture production might offset this overfishing
while meeting lucrative market demands. Figure 3 B shows the recent
history of shrimp pond development in Panama.
The institutional framework for managing mangrove resources and
mariculture development is somewhat simpler in Panama than in Ecuador or
the Philippines. The Ministerio de Desarrollo Agropecuario (MIDA) was
established in 1973 to plan, organize, coordinate, and promote policies in
the agricultural sector. The 1981 budget for MIDA totalled US$72.6
million. DINAACI or the Direccio'n Nacional de Acuicultura, was created in
1979 as a part of MIDA with headquarters in Santiago. Dr. Richard Pretto,
Director of DINAAC, is a specialist in mariculture.

The other relevant directorate within MIDA is the Direccion General de

Recursos Renovables, or RENARE, which was established along with the
Ministry in 1973. Until 1978, when USAID loaned Panama US$10 million
(principally for protection of forests in the Panama Canal watershed),
there were only four to five people involved in RENARE's activities. The
current RENARE staff of more than 100 is responsible for inventory of the
country's forests, regulation and supervision of forest exploitation and
reforestation of areas which have been over-exploited. Its jurisdiction
also extends to the littoral zone, including management of mangrove forests
and superficial waters which enter the estuaries. Figure 7 shows the
estimated extent of mangroves in Panama.
As in Ecuador, the preferred sites for shrimp ponds in Panama are salt
flats (locally called albinas, Figures 8 and 9). Salt production, which
also takes place in tidally flooded salt flats, has a much longer history
on Panama's coast, and in fact there is almost as much hectarage involved
in salt production (1,565 ha) as there is in shrimp farming (2,200 ha in

S@IDW 86OW

C a r 1 b b e a n
Sea

a aff
0 kilometers 100
unta
PANAMA Chame

Aguadulc
Gu I f of
Panama
N

4
Mangrove Areas
in Panama

Mangroves 7
PAC I Fl C OCEAN

Figure 7. Map o f the major mangrove areas in Panama. (Redrawn from FAO Investment Ctr.)

W,
v
r
A-I N 5

"W,
51C
W
A,- @.J
... ... ....

I JE.
P'n

Figure 8. Portion of a shrimp pond constructed in a former albina
area. The dikes extend to the mangrove line in background. (Photo
by R. Murray).

NOW "II
-nI-I

Figure 9. Extensive albina converted to a salt gathering operation in
Agudulce, Panama. (Photo by R. Murray).

1983; Pretto, pers. comm.). In spite of the fact that the salt producers,
or salineros, occupy less than 10% of the available salt flats in Panama
(14,000 ha according to McCoy, 1981; 19,845 ha according to Food and
Agriculture Organization, 1981, government policies favor the participation
of the Comision de Salineros in granting concessions for shrimp production.
The cadastral registry (an agency for land taxation) of the Ministry of
Housing and Finance'formally grants concessions (fees of US$20-25/ha are
levied) once the MIDA directorates of RENARE and DINAAC, along with the
Comision de Salineros and the Port Authority (of the Ministry of Commerce
and Industry) have given approval. The cadastral registry is authorized
only to grant concessions less than 2.5 ha in salt flats; Cabinet approval
is required for larger concessions, although legislation is pending (1983)
to permit the registry to grant concessions up to 200 ha.
While salt flats are preferred sites for shrimp ponds and salterns for
salt production, the mangroves are most frequently removed for urban
expansion and other agricultural purposes. Production of charcoal and
construction poles called muletillas also account for a major depletion of
mangrove resources (Garibaldi, 1982; Figure 10). In the Bejuco-Punta
Chame area alone, more than 70 people are employed in charcoal production.
Each 100 pounds of mangrove yields 50 pounds of charcoal after eight days
of burning. With manual labor, one person can harvest sufficient wood to
produce 20 fifty pound sacks of charcoal per day realizing US$l per sack in
earnings. Chainsaws have increased rates of harvest to as much as 100
sacks per person per day. This represents the clearance of a maximum 1.4
ha of mangroves per person per working day based on weight per area
estimates from other studies (Colley et al., 1962). Straight lengths of
mangrove growth are harvested for poles at the rate of 75 to 100 poles (10-
18 feet long) per person per day for which the worker can receive as much
as US$55 per day. Canoes are used to enter the mangroves on high tides for
cutting. It should be noted that this work is normally done only a few
days per month. There are several large storage areas in the Punta Chame
area for both charcoal and muletillas ready for shipment to Panama City.

7,
---wow-

Figure 10. These Rhizophora trunks are being readied for conversion to
charcoal in the Bejuco region of Panama. (Photo by R. Murray).

Still another major use of mangrove wood is to supply bark for
production of tannin used in Costa Rica's leather industry. While Costa
Rica bans the harvest of mangroves, a cooperative which harvests bark from
Panama's red mangroves has supplied a leather tanning cooperative in Costa
Rica for at least six years. More than 700,000 kg of red mangrove bark
were exported to Costa Rica in 1981; however, current recessionary trends
have reduced the demand for bark in Costa Rica since the peak year of 1979.
Again, based on Golley et al. (1962) 700,000 kg of bark represents the
destruction of as much as 250 ha of mangrove forest. Clearly, shrimp pond
development is not the only, or even most extensive, cause of mangrove

alteration in Panama.
Panama's involvement in the mariculture of penaeid shrimp began 10 years
ago. Early in 1974, the U.S. firm of Ralston Purina established a Panamanian
company, Agromarina de Panama, S.A., with a pilot scale shrimp grow-out
facility of 48 ha in Aguadulce and a hatchery in Veracruz. Research and
development continued through 1977 when Agromarina expanded to a commercial
production scale on its 4,500-ha 20-year concession. Through 1982, more
then US$6.8 million were spent in developing the company's hatchery (15
million postlarvae per month) and grow-out ponds of which there are
currently 620 ha.
A second concession of 124 ha was granted the firm of Palangosta in
1979, this time for only 10 years. Economic returns from these operations
encouraged investment in Panamanian shrimp farming; between November 1979
and August 1980, the Port Authority had received 23 requests for private
concessions in salt flats. The central problem in this rapid growth was
the premature, illegal development activities which, in some cases,
preceded evaluation and approval by the government. Mangroves, rather
than salt flats, were frequently altered or destroyed while applications to
legitimize the concessions were ongoing according to the Port Authority.
Policies of other governmental institutions were not coordinated or applied
at that time. The Directorate of Marine Resources favored a limit on
capture of wild shrimp postlarvae needed by pond operators. RENARE did not
claim jurisdiction in the issue. While DINAAC promoted mariculture
development, the Port Authority recommended a ban on all mariculture

programs.
Federal legislation has been enacted (1959-1973) for protection of
mangroves, regulation of water use and management of fishing activities.
However, the parts of this legislation addressing concerns over mangrove
alteration or destruction were not retroactive and could not be applied to
landowners whose title to the property predated the laws. Eventually in
1980, an intergovernmental committee recommended unified policies for the
problem. Under these policies, all current (1980) illegal operations are
not permitted to expand. Companies with more than 100 ha in ponds must
meet their needs for postlarvae or juveniles from hatchery production
rather than collection of wild stocks, and the Port Authority will

coordinate future concessions.

4. CURRENT SITUATION

4.1 Philippines
The Philippines has the longest involvement in aquaculture of the three
countries surveyed and hence has exerted the heaviest pressure on mangrove
resources. Until the early 1970's there was relatively little concern

about the loss of the resource even as there was little concern about the

loss of saltmarshes in the U.S. Both ecosystems, especially the mangroves,
were viewed as noisome areas which begged to be utilized in a

11constructive" manner.

Since 1972 the Philippines has built an admirable structure of
administrative and legal constraints with regard to fishponds and mangrove
resources. The early laws were designed to retard poorly planned fishpond
construction which often resulted in poorly producing or unfinished ponds.
(Figure 11 shows the secondary mangrove growth in a fishpond.) As far as
they went these laws had little effect on the rate of fishpond
construction, although they probably acted to discourage people with little
capital or those who wished to build small fishponds (less than 5 ha in
areas). Laws that were enacted after 1976 had a different complexion.
These were written with the intent of establishing a conservation ethic
with regard to mangroves.

Figure 11. This second growth mangrove in Mindanao is coming back
after the area was cleared for a fish pond. (Photo by J. Atchue).

Unfortunately, there are several constraints associated with enforcement
of the many existing laws. These constraints can be broken down into
several areas. They are: lack of a data base on the resource, lack of
manpower for implementation, and finally, lack of personnel at the regional
and provincial levels educated in a conservation ethic. These problems
point to a realization that is sometimes lost on planners and legislators
alike: no matter how good or well intentioned a law is, it is almost
impossible to implement without adequate data and manpower. The
Philippines has a unique opportunity to deal with two of the three

constraints.

The first constraint, although still serious, has begun to be dealt
with by personnel from the NRMC and the NMC. They have already made many
advances in mangrove resource identification using LANDSAT images O.A.,
pers. obs.). The major obstacles preventing an accurate assesment of the
current extent of both fishponds and mangroves are 1) lack of current
images from LANDSAT and 2) lack of manpower to "ground truth" the areas.
The addition of a relatively modest number of properly trained personnel
and amounts of money would enable the Philippines to have access to a much
more accurate and complete data base with regard to both mangroves and
fishponds.
The other constraint, of lack of education in the "conservation ethic"
at the regional and provincial levels, may be dealt with directly. New
educational programs would, most appropriately, take the form of in-service
seminars for both regional and provincial personnel. During these
seminars, fundamental ecological principles can be used to illustrate to
the personnel why it is impossible to alter a portion of an ecosystem
without causing a shift in the overall balance. Associated with such
regional and provincial seminars should be an effort to re-educate Bureau
personnel on current policies favoring intensification rather than
expansion of fishponds. Many people interviewed in both supervisory and
extension roles in the Bureau were able to state the current government
stance favoring intensive aquaculture while simultaneously endorsing the
need for more fishpond areas to increase productivity.
The last constraint is the one least easy to remove. The government has

been able to decrease the number of approved fishponds by involving the
National Mangrove Committee in the Fishpond Lease Agreement process. This
has had the admirable effect in our opinion of slowing fishpond
development. The increase of production by the intensification of
aquaculture effort is, however, not as large as planned. This can only begin
to occur when the number of extension agents has increased. Almost every
regional and provincial office is undermanned in the extension divisions.
We understand that these are budgetary problems, on which we are unable to
comment. We submit, though, that an effort to put trained extension agents
in the field will yield a "rapid" increase in production by fishponds. The
FIDC 0983) in their 10-year plan predict a 50% per year increase in
fishpond production. Unless there are extension agents in the field to
assist the operators we do not believe such targets can be met.
A related area of concern involves coordination and planning of coastal
zone management. Two ministries (Ministry of Human Settlements, MHS and
Ministry of Natural Resources, MNR) and at least three councils (Fishery
Industry Development Council, FIDC, NRMC, NEPC) appear to have some
regulatory interest in coastal zone management in addition to the Coastal
Zone Management Task Force. This promotes confusion with regard to
operational planning and overall goals in coastal zone management. We
recommend that a single ministry be charged with the authority to manage
all planning with regard to the coastal zone. Further we recommend that
projects such as USAID's Rainfed Resources and World Bank's Central Visayas
Resource Management Project be integrated with the overall Philippine
coastal zone management plan.

4.2 Ecuador
The attitude of most governmental agencies and pond operators in Ecuador
toward preserving mangroves has been generally favorable in the past. Most
of the owners of ponds built in the last two or three years have shown an
awareness of the importance of mangroves to the continued existence of
their operations. They recognize mangroves as the most important source of
postlarvae for stocking their ponds. The increased cost of construction in
mangrove areas is also frequently mentioned as a constraint. Site visits

to several of the newer shrimp farms in the Guayas region in the first part
of 1983 indicated that very little destruction of mangroves had occurred in
that area. These ponds were built landward of the mangrove line, with
removal of small portions (1-2 ha) of mangroves for pump sites,
construction of reservoirs and for access to salt water (Figure 12).
More recently, however, there have been several reports of extensive
destruction of mangroves. In the newspaper El Universo (August 5, 1983)
there appeared a front page photograph of mangroves being burned in Bahia
de Caraquez. An accompanying article explained that this was done in order
to clear the land for shrimp ponds. According to the author 1,000 ha of
mangroves have already been cleared and another 1,000 ha are being dried up
preparatory to clearing. An explanation of the importance of mangroves to
shrimp farming is given, and the article concludes with a request for
action by the Merchant Marine in order to stop the "illegal activity."
Reports of similar activities recently occuring in the Guayas region
have also been personally communicated (M. Hatziolas, USAID). Apparently
a new system of pond construction has evolved which is suited for
exploiting mangroves. A single perimeter ditch and dike are first built so
that the planned pond area will not be inundated by tidal action as it
would normally. After drying for a sufficient period of time to support
heavy equipment, the area is then cleared of vegetation and the ponds are

constructed.

This type of construction has apparently been brought about by a lack of
salitralis (salt flats) due to the rapid expansion of shrimp farming in
Ecuador the past few years. Whatever the cause, the pattern in Ecuador
seems to be going from the initial wholesale destruction of mangroves in
Machala to a period of moderation, with a recent return to mangrove
exploitation.
The economic impact of pond-reared shrimp is easily discernible in
Ecuador. In 1975 the total catch for the country was 5,800 metric tons.
By 1983 10,200 metric tons worth $66.4 million were exported, and in 1981
the harvest again doubled to 20,100 metric tons. This increase is almost
entirely due to the proliferation of shrimp ponds, which provided 70% of the
total export in 1981.

'-low -4

'77,

Figure 12. The high profitability of shrimp in Ecuador allows the use
of high volume diesel pumps such as the one pictured. Very few
ponds in the Philippines are capable of supporting this sort of
energy intensive management practice. (Photo by R. Murray).

An allied industry which is expected to rapidly increase in the next 2
to 3 years is shrimp feed manufacturing. Six firms produced 17,000 tons of
feed in 1982 with less than 20% of the shrimp farmers using a program of
supplemental feeding. If more pond owners begin using pelletized diets,
and new pond construction coutinues, it is estimated that 300,000 tons
would be needed by 1986. (Chauvin, 1983). Another estimate places the
future total value of the Ecuadorian shrimp feed industry as in excess of
$40 million (S.P. Meyers, pers. comm.).
Interest in starting new ventures in shrimp farming is still high.
Advertisements are seen almost every week in Ecuadorian newspapers in which
as much as 500 ha of land suitable for shrimp ponds is sought. Such
pressure, combined with the unavailability of salt flats for expansion,
would seem to indicate that a critical point has been reached in Ecuador.
If mangrove resources are to be preserved both as a source of postlarvae
for the shrimp farming industry, and as a part of the coastal ecosystem,
steps will have to be taken in the near future.
If a majority of the farmers can be convinced that better management
practices will double or triple their yields from existing ponds, it would
certainly help to alleviate the immediate problem. Since most of the farms
in Ecuador are now operated on an extensive basis, conversion to a more
intensive system seems to be the most practical first step.
The current practice is to stock ponds at very low densities with small
postlarvae, on the order of 10,000-20,000 per ha. Seawater is either
pumped into the ponds or exchanged through tidal action in some older
operations. Since all food for the shrimp is provided by natural
production in the ponds, there is usually no filtration of incoming water
to remove possible competitors or predators. Without supplemental feeding
the growth of the shrimp is slow, with increases in body weight averaging
approximately 0.5 g/week. The slower growth in turn causes an extension of
the time needed to reach a marketable size, so the number of crops is
limited to 1 to 1.5 per year. Estimates of shrimp production from ponds
operated in this manner range from 100 to 400 kg of tails (shrimp with the
head removed) per hectare per year.

What could be termed a semi-extensive system would allow much higher
production with only two or three procedural changes. Chief among these
are a higher stocking density (50,000 to 60,000/ha) and a supplemental
feeding program. A nursery system could also be employed so that shrimp
are stocked in the grow-out ponds at 1 to 2 g. The combination of larger
stocking size and a feeding program result in growth rates averaging 1 g
per week or better, so that as many as two crops per year are obtained.
Production in this system, depending on water quality, mortality and other
factors, is in the range of 450 to 1,000 kg of tails/ha/year.
Using other management techniques which have been successfully employed
elsewhere leads to an even more productive semi-intensive system. This
system employs even higher stocking densities of juvenile shrimp
(100,000/ha). Ponds are fertilized prior to stocking to increase natural
production and feed is supplied throughout the grow-out period. Water
quality is monitored closely in this system and water exchange rates in the
ponds are usually higher than in extensive or semi-extensive production in
this case, again depending on a number of factors, is in the range of 1,000
to 1,800 kg/ha/year.
Since only 20% of the shrimp farms in Ecuador are now using a feeding
program, the potential for increased production from existing farms is
extremely high. One feed company has issued its own technical bulletin
with guidelines for feeding and examples of the increase in profits at
different stocking densities. This sort of private initiative is probably
one of the most effective means of disseminating this type of information.
ACEBA, the shrimp farmers association, would also be an excellent conduit
for the exchange of technical methods to improve production. Simple
manuals on using different cultivation practices could be made available to
all members and to others involved with raising shrimp.
These steps should satisfy those persons who are presently engaged in
shrimp farming. However, pressure for expansion into mangroves could still
come from new investors who do not yet have their "piece of the pie." As
indicated earlier, suitable areas for shrimp pond construction (salt flats)
which do not adversely affect mangroves apparently have been fully
utilized. If the rate of increase of ponds in the past few years

continues, there will be a critical need for enforcement by governmental
agencies if Ecuador is going to maintain this new industry. Although two
hatcheries have been built and three or four more are under construction,
they will not be able to meet the demand for postlarvae if the wild stock
should decrease significantly because of habitat loss or expansion of the
industry continues. It is estimated that extant hatcheries can produce as
many as 200 million postlarvae per year while the need for postlarvae will
exceed 8 billion in 1985 if current trends in supply and demand continue.
The logical first step in a comprehensive program of mangrove protection
would be to identify and classify the existing resources and at the same
time obtain a more accurate estimate of what damage has been done. At
present there is no detailed information on the actual locations and extent
of mangroves nor on the actual area and rate of increase in ponds. Some
workers have estimated as many as 80,000 ha of shrimp ponds in Ecuador when
ponds built without authorization are included (Pires, 1983).
A proposal entitled Shrimp Pond Siting and Management Alternatives in
Mangrove Ecosystems in Ecuador has been submitted to USAID, and has
received funding (pers. comm., J. Dickinson).
The major goals of this project are to:
1) Determine the areal extent of mangroves and classify the
communities according to major type.
2) Inventory existing shrimp ponds and determine what sort of area
they are located in (mangrove forest, salina, saltera).
3) Detect and map patterns of stress on mangrove communities that may be
related to shrimp pond construction or operation.
4) Correlate differences in shrimp pond signatures with physical or
biological parameters and report yields.
5) Develop and test different techniques for measuring shrimp pond
production and mangrove stress which can be used in Ecuador or in
other developing countries with a minimum of "ground truthing."
With this type of information available the appropriate agencies within
the Ministry of Defense should be able to increase their regulatory

effectiveness. Accurate information on existing ponds would lead to better
monitoring of future construction, especially that undertaken without
authorization. Periodic coastal flyovers, or part-time ground observers in
sensitive areas, may be used in such a program. The results of this
important field research program should be followed closely as a model for
mangrove resource monitoring.

4.3 Panama
Compared to the Philippines and Ecuador, the mangrove resources of Panama
have suffered little from aquaculture operations and do not appear to be in
any immediate danger. Demands on mangroves for urban expansion, and as
sources of tannin and charcoal presently appear to be greater threats.

This situation seems to be attributable to a number of factors which have

made some contribution to a greater or lesser degree.
One of these factors is undoubtedly the existence of agencies concerned
with mangroves in one way or another which have been able to function
effectively. RENARE, which has primary responsibility for protection and
enforcement, has sponsored a seminar on mangrove management presented by
FAO. RENARE has also conducted a brief study on the ecological impact
of shrimp culture in albinas and mangroves and has fined owners of
several farms which were built in mangrove areas. They also have
reportedly put a temporary halt to the cutting of red mangrove for its bark
until the problem can be evaluated (S. Castillo, pers. comm.).
DINAAC has been able to help the situation in several ways. Articles
have been published which point out the disadvantages of building shrimp
ponds in mangroves (including greater cost, poor water quality and off-
color, less valuable shrimp), the overall risks involved in investing in
shrimp culture and the possibility of encountering acid sulfate soils in
mangrove zones. A training program for biologists and technicians is being
conducted at the marine station, and several personnel are already involved
in working with private shrimp farms. Prior to the loan application made
to the Inter-American Development Bank, DINAAC also conducted an assessment
of the number of hectares of albinas available for shrimp pond
construction. Estimates ranged between 10,000 and 19,000 ha, which should

comfortably accomodate the total planned expansion of 2,500 ha allowed by
the amount of monies provided through this loan.
There was some initial concern (R.M., pers. obs.) that visits to ponds
after construction would not allow an accurate estimate of the amount of

mangrove destruction involved. In Panama, however, there did turn out to
be an effective means of comparison using aerial photos (1:40,000 scale)
taken prior to pond construction. These are available at a nominal cost
from the Instituto Nacional de Geografi*a in Panama City. Two of these
photographs covering the Punta Chame area showed that four of the five
farms located there were built on existing albinas, with little or no
mangrove involvement (Figure 13).
Management practices in Panama also tend to differ dramatically from
Ecuador. Here the majority of farms are using semi-extensive or semi-
intensive operations, with 5% or less using an extensive system. This is
probably primarily due to the influence of the Ralston Purina operation,
Agromarina, S.A. Production here for the past year has exceeded 2,100 kg of
tails/ha/year. The operation has earned the nickname Universidad del
Camaron, or Shrimp University, because of the number of former biologists
and technicians who are now working for Panamanian shrimp farms. DINAAC
has also served as a source of trained personnel and information for farms
in Panama. This is in contrast to Ecuador where the extensive system was
historically practiced and there were no local people with expertise in
shrimp culture.

5. LESSONS LEARNED AND SITE COMPARISONS

The status of shrimp production in Ecuador and Panama for export markets is
similar; Philippine milkfish production represents an older system meeting
the needs of local consumption in a nation of much higher population
density.
Important areas of contrast are summarized in Table 4. The fact that
most smaller fishponds (less than 2 ha) in the Philippines are not
profitable (Chong, Lizarondo, Holarzo and Smith, 1982) is not a
particularly grave economic concern. Operators produce food for themselves
and defray their cost of living by selling off the remaining production.

41@

17-

Figure 13. Location of two shrimp farms in Punta Chame. The albina
area on which the forms were built is outlined and indicated by
arrows. Dark areas on the coast are mangrove forests. (scale
1:40,000 photo by Panamanian Government).

Table 4. Areas of contrast in the three target countries with regard to resource use and aquaculture economics.,

Approximate Typical Potential economt
Country Preferred % Mangroves Mariculture First Major Economic Population Relative benefits from
site Converted Approach Pond Expansion Pressure Density Profitability Improved methods Hatchery

Philippines mangrove 45 extensive 1863 1950-70 local 163/km 2 low great moderate
consumption
Ecuador salt flat 25 extensive 1969 1977-pres. export 29km 2 moderate moderate great
(some semi- to
extensive) high
2
Panama salt flat 5 semi-intensive 1974 1981-pres export 24/km moderate moderate great

1. Sources of data are discussed in the history of development section. Estimates of profitability and economic benefits are
authors inferences.

There is little incentive to improve yields. Larger operations (greater
than 10-ha farms) such as those in Iloilo, Pangasinan and Quezon provinces
are profitable and in many cases have achieved much greater yields per unit
area, in some instances as much as 2,000 kg/ha/yr (J.A., pers.obs.). The
many small fishponds produce far less than the few larger operations where
profit motivation has led to improved operations. Futhermore, there are a
number of important economies of scale which are achieved only by larger
pond operations. These include higher stocking densities, polyculture
with shrimp, food preparation and feeding, and improved water circulation
from better sluice gates installed in the larger ponds.
If mangrove conservation is to be accomplished while permitting
mariculture production (both fish and shrimp) to continue, improvements in
yield per unit area of ponds must be pursued. In fact this is the stated
goal of many government agencies. Legislation exists in all three
countries studied which, if effectively enforced, would preclude mangrove
conversions and encourage intensification of existing pond production.
However, achieving overall improvement in yields is quite difficult in any
agriculture or aquaculture endeavor.
According to figures from BFAR, each hectare of milkfish pond in the
Philippines provides employment for one person, or approximately 190,000
people nationwide. The socioeconomic characteristics of milkfish culture
have been established over many years and involve many people. The
structure of the industry will complicate efforts to achieve higher yield
by combining adjacent small and medium scale operations into a few larger
scale operations. Yet to minimize continued mangrove conversions, the
pressures to create new ponds must be relieved by improving yields of the
established ponds.
It may be possible to improve yields per unit area by putting a greater
emphasis on manual labor in the production process. The addition of a few
people per facility could be used in such never-ending tasks as dike and
gate repair, organic (or inorganic) fertilizer application and preparation
and addition of locally available foods (such as rice bran). These
personnel could be added at a relatively low cost to the pond operator
especially in areas where large labor pools tend to shrink daily wages. In

this way manual labor avoids an obligation for expensive technology while
improving the local employment picture. Taking greater care in the overall
culture as suggested above will result in a greater yield per unit area
both in product and cash.
Aquaculture advisory service through government extension agents has
not been useful in accomplishing this task in most countries; the
Philippines, Ecuador and Panama are no exceptions. Typically, there is a
critical shortage of properly trained extension agents (Ecuador, Panama)
Their effectiveness is compromised by pond operators whose actual
production is often greater than their officially reported, taxable
production (Ecuador). Often the extension agent's status is considered low
in view of the modest salary and the excessive amount of challenging field
work required (the Philippines). The net result is poor transfer of
technical information to small-scale mariculture operators on issues such
as pond siting and design, maintenance of water quality, or pond management

and harvest.

Product quality is excellent but high yields using unskilled labor is
difficult or variable at best. The participation of a limited number of
foreign technicians and mariculture specialists has been important in the
development of shrimp mariculture in Ecuador and Panama. Increased yields
appear to be unlikely unless there is an increase in qualified local
technicians. Part of the Panamanian program funded by the Inter-American
Development Bank addresses this need for training.
Low yields of both shrimp and fish can be achieved with very little
input of labor, energy and money; however, this is the most extensive
approach. The greatest input is land, mangroves in the Philippines, or
dwindling areas of salt flats, and more recently, mangroves in Ecuador.
Panama's young shrimp mariculture industry has yet to exert significant
pressure on their mangroves, and therefore Panama has the best opportunity
to review and react to these pressures before they become an environmental
problem.
Production of milkfish fry depends on the productivity of the mangrove
ecosystem as does natural production of shrimp postlarvae in Ecuador and
Panama. However, to date the availability of juvenile milkfish has not

limited fish production. Milkfish fry remain numerous in spite of the loss
of as much as 45% of original mangrove areas. Milkfish are highly fecund,
as are shrimp. They grow rapidly either in the wild or in captivity and
are easily held (stunted) in nursery ponds until required. Shrimp
postlarvae-move into the mangrove ecosystem only temporarily and are much
more sensitive to handling and grow-out procedures. In Panama and
especially in Ecuador, the availability of shrimp postlarvae could become a
major obstacle to further mariculture development.
Milkfish are produced in ponds located in mangrove habitats from which
the trees have been removed, often for charcoal and lumber. On the other
hand, preferred sites for shrimp ponds (in Panama and Ecuador) are salt
flats, tidally flooded salt-soil areas devoid of vegetation behind the
mangrove forests. For successful operation, milkfish ponds must be located
in mangroves. Therefore each hectare of pond represents the removal of one
hectare of mangrove. Ecuador shrimp farming has been expanding since 1969
with ponds in salt flats where construction costs are lower and there are
fewer production problems. But as fewer desirable salt flats remain in

Ecuador, there has been an increase in the illegal removal of mangrove
areas. Panamanian shrimp farming is a more recent development, and
extensive areas of salt flats are available for development. While some
mangroves have been removed for shrimp ponds, current economic pressures
appear to have reduced the rush to develop new ponds. This is clearly
evident from the lack of participation in the Inter-American Development
Bank loan program of US$15.3 million. US$10.3 million are available for
development of 1,525 hectares of shrimp ponds in Panama, but applications
for less than US$1.1 million have been processed (R. Pretto, pers. comm.)

6. GUIDELINES

This case study has focused on the Philippines, Panama and Ecuador as
premier examples of successful, coastal mariculture in the developing
world. For the most part, the successes of these nations in fish and
shellfish mariculture continue to take place in environments where mangrove
forests are often found. We have reviewed specific histories of

mariculture development in these nations, examined current situations and
discussed lessons learned from the proper and improper management of both
mariculture projects and mangrove resources. The constraints upon the
opportunities for natural resource management discussed in this study are
widely applicable in nations where aquaculture developments may have
serious impacts on other coastal resources. In countries where ecological
and economic conditions are favorable, mariculture can rapidly take on
considerable socioeconomic importance in a relatively short period of time.
In less than two decades, shrimp mariculture has expanded to account for 40%
to 80% of all exports in Panama and Ecuador. Once proven successful,
mariculture production becomes a traditional activity over the course of
many years, as in the Philippines where nearly 200,000 people rely on the
industry for all or part of their living. Given the important
socioeconomic basis of coastal mariculture, it becomes imperative that
planners and administrators work to promote the prosperity of the industry
while expanding and refining their efforts to manage, conserve and, in some
areas, preserve mangrove systems. To that end, we present the following
generic recommendations which are intended to guide decision-makers dealing
with mariculture developments in coastal habitats harboring important
natural resources. These guidelines are subdivided into four broad
categories: technical measures, information transfer, funding practices

and administration.

6.1 Technical measures
(1) Existing mariculture production should be intensified to increase yields

without the need to convert new coastal habitats.
Intensification is the most important strategy, and one likely to be
successful in many countries for most species under cultivation. From a
technical standpoint, intensive or semi-intensive mariculture production is
based on proven methods involving higher stocking densities of postlarvae
or juveniles, improved maintenance of water quality, better design
engineering and siting of grow-out ponds, and use of supplemental foods.
These improvements need not be technologically oriented or prohibitively
expensive but the mariculturists must be aware of the methods and the need

for their use. Even small pond operations can have yields per unit area
increased (by use of simple fertilizers, supplemental feeding, more frequent
exchange of water, etc.). Intensification of larger scale operations
requires more inputs (money, labor, supplies) to achieve greater
production, higher product quality and dependability of supply, all of
which lead to greater profits and a more stable market for the mariculture
product. To some extent, these improvements in operations are*a result of
several economies of scale which are achieved only in large, technically
oriented facilities (e.g., many problems of water quality may be solved in
a large-scale operation while small-scale grow-out ponds cannot yield
sufficient products to justify the expense of technical solutions). It is
important to recognize, however, that profitability is a less important
criterion in areas where mariculture production is consumed locally rather
than by national or international markets. Successful intensification can
improve profit margins but it can also increase supplies of protein without
increasing the areal extent of grow-out ponds at the expense of mangrove
forests. This is particularly true in nations of high population density
where the need for food is not always met. In such areas where the labor
force is a large and unemployment high, increased labor input may lead to
improved production per unit area without the involvement of expensive
technologies.
(2) Accurate baseline environmental and economic data and periodicall
updated assessments of mangrove resources must be collected. It is not
possible to judge the biological or economic problems or evaluate the
merits or constraints of any solution without sufficient and accurate data.
Very little data exist on the relationship between intact mangrove forests
and the productivity of coastal waters and hence we cannot evaluate the
impact of mangrove conversions on nearshore fisheries, although there
appears to be a relationship. The economic value of intact mangroves, or
mangroves managed for sustained yields of tannin, charcoal and lumber, is
not generally known, so again we cannot evaluate mariculture conversions

relative to other land-based activities. Even such data as the areal
extent and temporal variation of production in mangroves is not routinely
and accurately collected. For example, it has been suggested (IUCN,1981)

that one unit of mangrove may be converted to mariculture ponds for every
four units of intact mangrove before coastal fisheries will suffer from the
loss of the mangrove habitat and productivity. Ecological data to test
this hypothesis are lacking; accurate or unbiased economic data are
unavailable for evaluations of such resource development strategies on
different socioeconomic groups (catch fishermen, mariculturists, local
consumers, exporters).
In the absence of useful data or other properly validated conversion
ratios, the most prudent course of action would involve a moratorium on
conversion of new mangrove areas. Such restrictions must be enacted only
as interim measures while necessary data are collected and formulated into
management guidelines.
It is beyond the scope of this study to outline specific types of data
required for proper biological and environmental analyses and assessments
of the status of mangrove forests. In any event, what would be considered
appropriate data generally varies from one coastal system to another.
In general, however, satellite imagery supported by aerial and ground
truth surveys appear to be one of the most appropriate means to accumulate
the data needed for ongoing evaluation of mangrove forests in areas of
mariculture activity. Results from current and proposed research programs
at the University of Panama, the University of Miami and the FORI, mangrove
research station in Quezon Province, Philippines, should be critically
reviewed as potential models for routine collection of the biological and
ecological data needed in periodic assessments.
Economic data to integrate with biological and ecological findings are
also required; data suitable for the evaluation of mariculture and the
quantification of tradeoffs between short- and long-term development
strategies are not available. In most areas, mangrove forests provide
lumber for human habitation, are a source of charcoal, lumber and tannin
for man's use, and cycle nutrients into highly productive coastal waters in
addition to serving as sites for mariculture ponds. In spite of this
biological and economic importance of the mangrove system, we lack data on
which to base management decisions for balancing uses of mangroves or for
sustaining the resource.

this study suggests the complexity of the required data (e.g., what

information is needed to establish a value of the discount rate for
mangroves?).
(3) Siting of new mariculture facilities in mangroves must be discouraged
while reclamation of abandoned ponds should be encouraged. In most areas,
conversion of mangroves to ponds is not an absolute requirement for
successful mariculture production, and in fact such pond siting can be
disadvantageous. Ponds built in mangrove areas cost more to prepare, as
much as 20% more in Ecuador (E. Heald, pers. comm.) and frequently have
poor water quality resulting from acid sulphate conditions caused by
decaying mangrove matter. Because soils in mangroves often cannot be
adequately compacted, pond dikes rupture more frequently. Planners and
decision-makers should favor siting of ponds in areas other than intact
mangrove forests, and only after a sufficient financial commitment has been
made for plans which reflect proper design engineering of the facility.
Programs of pond reclamation should be supported in instances where
economic failures have led to pond abandonment. Poorly sited or
engineered ponds should be breached to promote eventual recolonization.

6.2 Information transfer
(4) Programs must be established to train more extension or advisory agents
and to mandate continuing education for current agency staff involved in

extension services for mariculture. Greater commitments must be made to

the support of extension services; key personnel must be trained and
retained through improvements in the agent's status and salary. Well
trained and respected extension agents may prove to be the most effective
communicators of improved mariculture practices. Key personnel should be
drawn to responsible positions from areas of relevant experience. Training
of extension agents and advisory personnel is often insufficient and
inappropriate and must be improved if even minor technical advances

toward intensification of mariculture are to be made. Promotion of

simple improvements through effective extension services is likely to
result in the most rapid intensification of small production

operations.
Current successes in coastally sited mariculture are based predominantly
on methods rooted in tradition and difficult to change. The transfer of
technology upon which intensification depends faces opposition from this
traditional, grass-roots outlook. Therefore to be effective, extension agents
must gain the confidence of the industry. But this role of the agent is made
difficult through his or her association with the bureaucracy which regulates and
taxes the mariculture industry. The following guideline addresses this concern.
(5) Private, non-governmental organizations (NCO's) such as shrimp and fish
farmers associations must be involved in programs to promote improvements
in production. These associations are local in character, are not involved
in procedures of regulation and taxation, and generally are well regarded.
While association members may be reluctant to share successful methods
among themselves, the associations do provide a forum for the extension
service to promote proven methods of intensification extracted from
successful foreign operations, international specialists and published

reports.
(6) Large, expatriot companies should be required to gradually transfer
production technology to local producers as part of their land concession
permit. Foreign-based firms usually have made a significant commitment of
capital to establish production operations which take advantage of local
labor and natural resources, often to meet demands of a lucrative export
market. Such foreign investment offers a number of obvious benefits to
local economies in terms of employment, export trade and tax bases.
However, once initial research and development costs have been recovered,
expatriot companies should not retain exclusive privileges to exploit local
natural resources by virtue of proprietary technologies. Foreign investors
must be offered a definite period of time in which to establish the
profitability of production and recover development costs. After that
period (we recommend 10 years as a reasonable figure) continued operation
would require a well-defined program of technology transfer. In return for
this information, the term of the original land concessions would have to
be extended beyond current standards (e.g., a 10-year proprietary
development period followed by 20 years of continued operation for a total

term of 30 years).
(7) Specific mechanisms must be established for the timely transfer of
research results and recommendations in appropriate form for application by
regulatory agencies and user groups. Publication of technical reports in

the scientific literature does not address the need for transfer of
information from research projects to decision-makers. Publication is
frequently slow and presentations are in highly technical terms.
Governments, international development organizations and user associations
should continue to support more frequent gatherings of specialists to
produce and circulate non-technical syntheses of results from research
programs on both mangrove resources and mariculture developments.

6.3 Funding practices
(8) International funding agencies must carefully structure their mariculture
development programs to encourage improved yields in existing facilities
rather than the creation of additional coastal sites. In the past, loan
programs for capital expenses have increased pressures on mangrove
resources by encouraging the entry of new operators into the mariculture
industry. Loan funds for operating expenses should be made available for
improving and sustaining existing mariculture operations. Restrictions on
use of current loan money for operating expenses should be removed.
Discounted interest rates or tax advantages may be given on loans used to
reclaim abandoned ponds. New development programs should represent a
balance of financial support for capital and operating expenses and
training programs.

6.4 Administration

(9) We strongly recommend that single agencies or departments be charged with
the coordinated administration of coastal resources and mariculture

development, and that this agency effectively communicate governmental
policies to all parties concerned. Interagency conflicts should be
minimal; policy statements and research programs should be unified. While
shifting jurisdiction within existing departments or ministries may be
difficult, such changes are needed.

Bureaucratic processes tend to become more complex and resistant to
change over the long term. This tendency toward bureaucratic entrenchment
and inflexibility is complicated in the administration of multidisciplinary
issues. Responsibilities are typically partitioned into many management
units, which increases the complexity of the system to the outsider. The
11outsiders" in the instance of mangroves and coastal mariculture are for
the most part shrimp and fish farmers, lumbermen, and rural families
producing charcoal and tannin. (Sophisticated entrepreneurs who, from time
to time, may promote urban development of mangrove tracts are not, in this
sense at least, "outsiders" to the system.) Of particular concern to the
ministry administering coastal resources and development should be the
effective communication of policies to everyone involved in the development
or management of coastal resources regardless of their sophistication in
natural resource issues or the apparent degree of their involvement from
passive concern to daily participation. Feedback should be part of this
communication. Thus, administrative policies and legislation which
allocate common property resources, such as shrimp postlarvae, milkfish fry
or mangrove tracts, should be assessed and adjusted periodically by all
interested or affected groups if resources which permit successful

mariculture are to be sustained.

LITERATURE CITED

Aksornkoae, S. and C. Khemnark, 1980. Nutrient cycling in mangrove
forest in Thailand. In: Proceedings, asian symposium on mangrove
environment, research and management, Kuala Lumpur, Aug. 1980.

Borema, P.K., 1961. Informa al Gobierno de la Republica sobre los
recursos comaroner parameras. Unpub. report.

Chapman, V.J., 1974. Mangrove biogeography. In: G.E. Walsh, S.C.
Snedaker, and H.J. Teas (Editors), Proceedings, international
symposium on biology and management of mangroves, 1974. Univ.
of Fla., Gainesville, pp. 3-22.

Chauvin, W.D., 1983. Ecuador: Shrimp moves to second largest import.
The Fish Boat, 28(8)41, 66-70.

Chong, K-C., Lizarondo, M.S., Holaza, V.P., Smith, I.R., 1982. Inputs
as related to outputs in milkfish production in the Philippines.
ICLARM Tech. Report No. 3., 82 pp. ICLARM, Manila.

Christensen, B., 1978. Biomass and primary production of Rhizophora
apiculata BL. in a mangrove in southern Thailand. Aquatic Botany
4:43-52.

CLIRSEN, 1983. Situacion historica y actual de los manglares en un area
piloto de la costa Ecuatoriana. FAO Mangrove Symposium, Guayaquil,
Ecuador.

Daugherty, H.E., 1975. Human impact on the mangrove forests of El
Salvador. In: G.E. Walsh, S.C. Snedaker, and H.J. Teas, (Editors),
Proceedings, international symposium on biology and management of
mangroves, 1974. Univ. of Fla., Gainesville, pp. 816-824.

FAO, 1981. Panama Aquaculture Project Preparation Report. Confidential
Report. FAO, Rome, 124 pp.

Fishery Industry Development Council, 1983. Fishing Industry Brief.
MNR, Manila.

Garibaldi, C., 1982. Caracteristicas y usos de 19 especies con valor
commercial en Panama. FAO/PNUD--PAN/82/004.

Golley, F.G., Odum, H.T., Wilson, R.F., 1962. The structure and
metabolism of a Puerto Rican red mangrove forest in May.
Ecology, 43:9-19.

Goulter, P.F.E. and W.G. Allway, 1980. Litter fall and decomposition in
Avicennia marina stands in the Sydney region, Australia. Contribution
to the 19nd International Symposium on Mangroves and Tropical Shallow
Water Communities, Papua New Guinea, July-Aug. 1980.

Heald, E.J., 1971. The production of detritus in a south Florida
estuary. Sea Grant Tech. Bull. (Univ. Miami), 110 pp.

Hirono, Y., 1983. Preliminary report on Shrimp culture activities in
Ecuador. Technical sessions of the World Mariculture Society,
Jan. 1983, Washington, D.C. p. 58 (ABSTRACT).

International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources,
1981. First report on the global status of mangrove ecosystems.
IUCN, Toowong, Australia.

Lugo, A.E. and S.C. Snedaker, 1974. The ecology of mangroves. Ann. Rev.
Ecol. and Sys. 5:39-64.

MacIntosh, D.J., 1982. Fisheries and Aquaculture significance of mangrove
swamps, with special reference to the Indo-West Pacific Region.
p. 3-86. IN Muir, J.F. and R.J. Roberts (Editors). Recent Advances
in Aquaculture. Croom and Helm, London.

MacNae, W., 1974. Mangrove Forests and Fisheries. FAO, Rome. 35 pp.

Martosubroto, P. and N. Naamin, 1977. Relationship between tidal
forests (mangroves) and commercial shrimp production in Indonesia.
Mar. Res. Indonesia 18:81-88.

McCoy, E.W., 1981. Feasibility of pond culture of shrimp in Panama.
Unpub. report. IADB, Panama.

Motoh, H., 1980. Traditional devises and gear for collecting fry of
11sugpo" giant tiger prawn, Penaeus monddon in the Philippines.
SEAFDEC technical report No. 4, 15 pp.

Odum, W.E. and E. Heald, 1972. Trophic analysis of an estuarine
mangrove community. Bull. Mar. Sci. 22:671-738.

Odum, W.E. and E.J. Heald, 1975. Mangrove forests and productivity.
In: A.D. Haster (Editor), Coupling of sand and water systems.
Ecological studies, Vol. 10. Springer-Verlag, New York, pp. 129-136.

Ong, J.E., 1983. Mangroves and aquaculture in Malaysia. Ambio,
11:252-257.

Oshima, G., 1973. A geographical study of aquaculture in the Philippines.
In: Kwansei Gakuin University, annual studies 22, Japan, pp. 29-45.

Pires, I.A., 1983. Oil, shrimp, mangroves: An evaluation of contingency
planning for the Gulf of Guayaquil, Ecuador. Woods Hole Oceanog.
Inst. Tech. Rep. WHOI--83-38, 105 pp.

Prince Jeyaseelan, M.J. and K. Krishnamurthy, 1980. Role of mangrove
forest of Pichavaram as fish nursery. Proceedings Indian National
Science Academy B, 46:2-6.

Steinke, T.D., 1980. Degradation ofmangrove leaf and stem tissue in
situ in Mgeni Estuary, South Africa. Contribution to the 2nd
International Symposium on Biology and Management of Mangroves and
Tropical Shallow Water Communities. Papua New Guinea, July-Aug. 1980.

Yoong, F.B. and B. Reinoso, 1982. Shrimp culture (Penaeus) in Ecuador:
Methods and techniques. Bol. Cient. y Technic., 5(2).

Zamora, P.M., 1979. The coastal zone management program of the Philippines.
In: M.J. Valancia (Editor), Proceedings of the workshop on coastal
area development. Univ. Press of Hawaii. Hawaii. pp. 85-88.

APPENDICES

Appendix I - Methods: Itinerary
Part I

Mr. Joseph Atchue traveled throughout the Philippines from 4 July
through 12 August 83. In addition to visiting Manila, he spent time
in Pangasinan, Ilolio, Cebu, Bohol and Cagayan Provinces.

Mr. Robert Murray traveled throughout Panama from 15 August through 26
August 83. In addition to spending time in Panama City, he visited
pond operations and mangrove sites in Punta Chame, Aguadulce and
Chitre. In Ecuador he was able to tour several shrimp farms on the
Guayas River.

Appendix I - Methods: Interview Guidelines
Part 2

Uniform Reporting Guidelines

These guidelines provided a basis for comparison of data collected during
interviews. In the following lists, topics with asterisks are considered
most important.

1. Persons Interviewed

A. Aquaculturist - Owner
Operator
Employee
Processor

B. Private Interests - Association administrator
Consultant

C. Governmental - Local
Provincial
Federal
US AID Mission

D. Financier - Lawyer - Banker
Attorneys
Venture capitalist

E. Alternate User - Catch fishermen
(of mangrove coast) Home owner, developer
Boating interests
Salt pond facilities

2. Areas of inquiry:

Biology - Mariculture
Environment
Economic
Social

Appendix I - Methods: Interview guidelines
Part 2

AQUACULTURE - Owner, operator, employee, processor

� Production levels per unit area
� Area in production, harvests per year
� Favored habitat, climate, specifics of suitability
� Expand vs increase yield?
� Value of extension agents, if any
� Planned expansion, timetable, where
� Value of mangroves - esthetics, habitat for postlarvae and
juveniles, other roles
Pond designs, innovations, alternatives
Pond failures, flaws, time to construct
Constraints to increased yield per unit area
History of availability of postlarvae (not from hatchery)
History of facility development, personal involvement
Perceived (or measured) impact on habitat, history
Freshwater difficulties
Extent of vertical integration
Any local conflicts - officials, neighbors, fishermen, laws
Number of employees, wages
Hierachy of expense
Marketing methods
Estimates of market demand
Price returned to producer
Profit margin, profit sharing incentives
Cost of money (interest rate), accessibility

PRIVATE INTERESTS - Consultant, association administration, scientist

� Mean production levels per unit area
� Estimate of total area in production
� Favored habitat, climate
� Perceived (or measured) impact on habitat, history
� Planned expansion, timetable, where
� Value of mangroves - esthetics, habitat for PL and juveniles, other
roles
Areal extent of mangrove habitat, by province
Estimates of natural productivity of mangrove
Pond design, innovations, alternatives
Pond failures, flaws
Constraints to increased yield per unit area
History of availability of postlarvae (not from hatchery)
History of aquaculture industry
Specifics of suitability

Freshwater difficulties
Most pressing regional problem
Expand vs. increase yield
Extent of conflict with fishermen
Hierarchy of expenses
Role of extension agents, consultants
Percentage population employed by aquaculture
Marketing methods
Price returned to producer
Estimate of market demand

GOVERNMENT - local, provincial, federal, AID mission

� Value of mangrove - esthetics, habitat for PL and juveniles, other
roles
� Extent of failures of aquaculture operations
� Most pressing regional problem
� Percentage of population employed by aquaculture
� Planned expansion, timetable, where
� Government policy to ecnourage/discourage expansion
� Areal extent of mangrove habitat, by province
Nature of legislation to manage coastal resources
Nature of legislation to promote/regulate aquaculture
Role of extension agents
Estimate of economic benefits of aquaculture
Percentage of population employed by catch fisheries
Any local conflicts - officials, fishermen, laws
Quality of intragovernmental relations

FINANCE/LAWYER - attorney, banker, venture capitalist

� Estimate of economic benefit of aquaculture
� Extent of failures of aquaculture operations
� Planned expansion (participation), timetable, where
� Government policy to encourage/discourage expansion
� Value of mangroves - esthetics, habitat for marine life, other
roles
Outline of aquaculture involvement, service provided
Favored habitat, climate
Cost of money (interest rate), accessibility
Marketing methods
Price returned to producer
Estimate of market demand
Percentage of population employed by aquaculture
Perceived (or measured) impact on habitat
Most pressing regional problem

In loans to aquaculture, what is failure rate
Time from loan to cash flow

ALTERNATE USER - catch fishermen, home owner, developer, boating

interests, salt pond facilities

� Estimate of economic benefit of aquaculture
� Value of mangroves - esthetics, habitat for marine life, other
roles
� Planned expansion (non - aquaculture), timetable, where
� Estimate economic benefits of alternate use
Percentage of population employed by catch fisheries
Favored habitat, climate, specifics of suitability
Total area in alternative use
Any local conflicts - officials, neighbors fishermen, laws
Freshwater difficulties

Appendix I Methods: Persons Contacted
Part 3

The following individuals were personally contacted during the course
of this study.

CASE STUDY CONTACTS: PHILIPPINES

Ministry of Natural Resources (MNR)

Arnol Caoili, Deputy Minister

Bureau of Fisheries and AquatLc Resources (BFAR)
at the national level.

Joe Marie Gerochie, Assistant Director
Abe Gaduang, Chief Extension Division
Myrna Capati, Officer in Charge, International Liaison
Lourdes De Mesa, Head Librarian
Lulu Bautista, Acting Chief, Statistics Division
Natividad M. Lagua, Chief, Plans and Management Division (PMD)
Aurora B. Reyes, PMD

Region I:

BFAR:
Primitivo Clave, Regional Director
Romulo Rasing, Extension Agent
Michael Rice, Peace Corps Volunteer

Part 3 con't.

Region VI:

BFAR:
Jose Garrido, Regional Director
Fred Telarma, Assistant Regional Director
Cesar Matulac, Chief, Extension Division
Donnie Boquieren, Chief, Gear Technology
May Abdua, Chief, Management Information Staff
Development Bank of the Philippines:
Ramon Buenaflor, Manager, Iloilo
Personal contact:
Mr. Danila, Western Visayas Fish Farmers Federation

Region VII:

BFAR:
Mr. Avesado, Regional Director
Boy Bernardino, Assistant Regional Director
Corazon Corallesq Chief, Extension Division
Rafael Bojos, Chief, Plans and Management Division
Myrna Reyes, Plans and Management Division
Condring Gustador, Chief of Calape Demonstration Fish Farm
Rolando Obispo, Chief of Vis. Fisheries Training Center
Gerry Loquellano, District Fishery Officer, Bojol
Development Bank of the Philippines:
Ben Tapedor, Manager of DBP, Cebu
Wilfredo Oredina, Chief, Aquaculture and Agriculture Div.

Region X:

BFAR:
Arlene Pantanosas, Chief, Plans and Management Division

Manila

Development Bank of the Philippines:
N. Chave, DBP Aquaculture Section

University of the Philippines (Marine Sciences Research Center (UP/MSRC)

Edgardo Gomez, Professor

National Environmental Protection Council (NEPC):

Ella S. Deocadizq Chief, Coastal Zone Management Planning
Section

Southeast Asian Fisheries Development Council (SEAFDEC):

Rogelio Fortez, Manila Office
Angelito Vizcarra, Aquaculture Engineering
Mr. Torrez, Aquaculture Engineering
Sylvia San Juan, Administrative Assistant, Training Programs

International Center for Living Aquatic Resources Management (ICLARM)

John L. Munro, Director, Research Division

National Resources Management Council (NRMC)

Celso Roque, Director General
Ricardo Umali, Deputy Director General (also Chairman,
National Mangrove Council)

Fisheries Industry Development Council (FIDC)

Elizabeth Samson, Chief ,

Silliman University; World Bank

Fred Vandevuuse

USAID:

Jaime Correa, Agricultural Project Officer, ORAD
David Alverson, Director, Policy and Planning, ORAD
Noel Ruiz, ORAD
Jeremy Edwards, Chief, ORAD

CASE STUDY CONTACTS: ECUADOR

Mr. Mark Newman, Chief Biologist
Camaronero Lebama, Islas Las Canoas

Dr. Joshua Dickinson, III
Consultant to project, environmental management
Gainesville, Florida

Mr. Rafael Horna

Eric Heald
NMFS; farm partner in shrimp (Ecuador)

Dr. Gilberto Cintron
Assoc. Prof. Univ. Puerto Rico

Ricardo Torres
ACEBA, Guayaquil

Part 3 con't.

CASE STUDY CONTACTS: PANAMA

RENARE:

Dr. Sergio Castillo M., Director
Directorate of Renewable Natural Resources (RENARE)

Lic. Cristina Garibaldi E.
Biologist, RENARE

Ing. Manual Hurtado
Chief, Forest Service

Ing. Cecilio Estribi, Provincial Coordinator,
(Chiriqui)

University of Panama:

Prof. Luis D'Croz
Marine Biologist

Bogdan Kwiecinski
School of Biology

DINAAC:

Dr. Richard Pretto M., Director
National Directorate of Aquaculture

Ing. Luis Hooper, Chief
Shrimp Culture Section

Lic. Vielka M. De Ruiz, Chief
Vacamonte and Carrasquilla Labs

Tec. Miguel de Leon, Chief
Marine Station "Enrique Ensenat"

Arnulfo Luis Franco R.
Marine Biologist, Marine Station "Enrique Ensenat"

Azael Torres Diaz
Marine Biologist, Marine Station "Enrique Ensenat"

Eyda Smith, Economist
Carrasquilla laboratory

Production operations:

Victor Ruben Espano, Manager
Palangosta, S.A. (Aguadulce)

Ramon Morales, Administrator
Agromarina de Panama (Aguadulce)

Javier Perez
Grupo Ganadera, S.A. (Granjas Marinas, Punta Chame)

Ing. Eduardo Perez, Field Manager
Aquachame, S.A. (Punta Chame)

USAID:

Mr. Gale Rozelle

Mr. Jesus Saiz

Others:

Dr. Len Lovshin: AID/DINAAC (Santiago)

Dr. David Hughes: AID/DINAAC (Santiago)

Carlos A.Becerra: Banco Nacional de Panama
Director, Aquaculture Program for IDB-BNP-MIDA

Armando Solicas: Manager, Cooperativa Salineros Marin
Campos, R.L. (Aguadulce)

Mr. Enrique Diaz, US A:rmy Engineering Division

Appendix II

Philippine National Mangrove Committee guidelines:

The Philippine National Mangrove Committee was reorganized to its present

form by the (then) Ministry of Natural Resources under Special Order No.

178, 1980.

Areas to be recommended for preservation or conservation or to be declared

as mangrove forest reserves:
1). mangrove areas adjoining the mouth of major river systems, covering at
least 3 km distance along both sides of the river fronting the sea,
2). mangrove areas near or adjacent to traditional productive fry and
fishing grounds, areas of importance as breeding, spawning and nursery
waters for fish and shellfish,
3). mangrove areas near populated areas or urban centersq for use by
people dependent on mangrove forest products,
4). mangrove areas of significant hazard if developed because of storms,
erosion, floods,
5). mangrove forests which are primary or pristine and have dense young
growth, in view of their important roles in local ecosystems, and
6). mangrove forests on small islands, forests which are important
components in such small ecosystems.

Appendix III

Recommendat ions of participants at the FAO seminar on management and

regulation of mangroves held in Panama in July 1-6, 1983.

1). The technical assistance offered by international bodies, in
material for the regulation of mangroves, should have a specific
and practical character for field application. Suitable
Panamanian personnel should be sent to Southeast Asia to receive
practical training in mangrove management, as well as forestry

aspects.
2). Recommendations of the missions on mangrove management already
received by the Forest Service should be put in effect as far as
possible.
3). Mangrove forest inventories already produced should be made
current and processed on corresponding maps. Perhaps technical
assistance would be required for this during the entire period.
4). Establish a small pilot level unit of mangrove forest management.
This could be 45 to 100 hectares, including a charcoal oven (50
m3), which implies an investment of some $US10,000 for the first
year. For the management of said unit the identification of a
market for the products to be obtained is indispensable. This
unit is of total importance to demonstrate the feasibility of
mangrove forest management, without affecting the other resources

derived from it.

5). An area of forest reserve should be selected and created for

the mangroves in Panama.
6). The corresponding laws should be regulated for more orderly

use of mangroves.
7). Due to the large number of entities which in one form or another
are related to this resource, it is very important to quickly
form a Comision Nacional del Mangle (COMAN) integrated by
representatives of public as well as private institutions which
are concerned with the conservation, use, administration and
investigation of the mangrove zones. This model functions
sucessfully in S.E. Asia.

8). Mangrove investigation programs should be reinforced and
coordinated through the proposed "Comision Nacional del Mangle." This
should channel the corresponding funds for investigations such as the
management projects.
9). At the level of said comission, they should coordinate
information and extension workers on the value of the mangrove
resource with a target of a better understanding on the part of the
users and the general public.

Case Study Two

BEACH EROSION

Miles 0. Hayes

"We have learned that even works
executed for coastal protection
sometimes accelerate severe beach
erosion. It should be deeply
engraved in our minds that any
development project must be
examined from a broad view of
both positive effects and
negative results."

Watanabe and Horikawa
(1983)

SUMMARY

Assessment of beach erosion problems on a global scale indicates that erod-

ing beaches are a common phenomenon. Serious erosion problems in developed
areas are usually the result of the activities of man, such as unwise con-
struction practices or the development of harbors or hydroelectric dams.
Case studies from different parts of the world provide guidelines for sound
planning and management of beaches in developing countries. Most of the
pitfalls of beach erosion can be avoided if the following "golden rules for
combating beach erosion" are adhered to:
1) Understand the natural beach system before it is altered. Site-specific
studies may be required at many localities to insure wise planning deci-

sions.

2) Develop a setback line before construction begins.
3) Where a major obstruction to longshore transport is built, such as a
large harbor, allow for an adequate sand-bypassing system.
4) Where possible, use soft solutions, such as sand nourishment or diver-
sion of channels, rather than hard solutions, such as revetments or sea-
walls, to solve beach erosion problems.
5) Maintain a prominent foredune ridge.
6) If a beach is valuable for tourism, recreation, or wildlife habitat, do

not mine the sand from dune, beach, or nearshore bars.
7) Do not panic after a storm and drastically alter the beach. Wherever
possible, let the normal beach cycle return the sand.

PON-

Lone observer on an
eroded beach in
Western Australia.

1. INTRODUCTION

Erosion is a common phenomenon on many of the shorelines of the world. In
fact, almost no coastal area of the world that has been developed by man is
free of problems caused by beach erosion.
An average erosion rate of between 30 centimeters (cm) and I meter (m)
per year has been determined for the shoreline of the United States (Dean
and Walton, 1975). The National Shoreline Study, which was conducted by
the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (1971), concluded that there are 32,000
kilometers (km) of eroding shoreline in the United States, 4,800 km of
which are classified as critically eroding, with nearly 43 percent of the
shoreline of the United States undergoing significant erosion.
The erosion or accretion of any coastline is ultimately controlled by
the natural forces responsible for the motion of wind and water along the

beach and in the nearshore zone. Under the action of nearshore currents,
waves, or winds, sediments are moved on, off, and along the beaches. This
mass transport of sand (the primary sediment type found on beaches) results
in the net erosion or accretion of a particular segment of the coastline
(Hayes and Kana, 1976).
The following discussion outlines the causes of erosion and reviews
man's effort to combat it, emphasizing specific case studies. What becomes

evident in this discourse is the conclusion that man himself has caused

most of his own beach erosion problems. That being the case, perhaps he
can do something to solve them. Lessons learned from the mistakes of the
past should be applied in the planning phases of every new development in
the coastal zone. The costs involved in preventing erosion by wise plan-
ning are orders of magnitude less than those required to solve an erosion
problem once the structures are in place.

2. THE NATURE OF BEACHES

2.1 Definition

A beach is an accumulation of unconsolidated sediment that is transported
and molded into characteristic forms by wave-generated water motion. The
landward limit of the beach is the highest level reached by average storm
waves, exclusive of catastrophic storm surges, and the seaward limit is the
lowest level of the tide (Davis, 1982). The beach's landward limit is usu-
ally marked by an abrupt change in slope at a coastal cliff, a foredune
ridge, or a man-made structure.
Most of the discussion in this case study concentrates on the erosion
of beaches, although the cliffs, dunes, and man-made structures of adjacent
coastal areas are commonly affected by wave erosion. Furthermore, it is
important to realize that changes on a beach are responses to processes
acting far outside the limits of the beach itself. Offshore shoals and
currents as well as inshore dune systems exert important controls on the
erosional and depositional cycles of beaches.

2.2 Beach Sediments

Sediments on beaches range from coarse-grained fragments of rocks to fine-
grained sand. Quartz sand is the most common constituent of beach sedi-
ments because of its relative abundance in the earth's crust, as well as

its chemical stability and resistance to abrasion. Carbonate sand beaches
are common in tropical regions. Gravel beaches are most common in areas
subjected to Pleistocene and Holocene glaciation (polar and subpolar re-
gions), but they also occur in warmer climates near eroding bedrock cliffs
and near some river mouths. The texture and composition of beach sediment
roughly parallels the distribution found for the nearshore shelf sediments
of the world (shown in Figure 1). Approximate distributions of beach sedi-
ments on a global scale are summarized further in Table 1. In effect, the

waves will build a beach from whatever material is available.

LATITUDE
00 200 4d' 6d, 8d,

---- ---- ----
=SHELL= - - - - - - - - - -
0 0 0

ROCK& GRAVEL-:
-50 ------------- ---
-----------------

00
-40 -------
M U D ---------- --- - ---- - -
- - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - -
LU
- - - - - - - - - - - -
-30 ---------
--------- - --

z
--------- -
-20

Uj
10

.........

. . ..............

Figure 1. Relative frequency of occurrence of sediment types on the inner
continental shelves of the world (from Hayes, 1967b). Beach sediments show
a similar trend, except for mud, which is winnowed from beach sediments.
"Coral," a general term used on nautical charts, presumably encompasses
other type s of carbonate sediments besides coral.

TABLE 1

Generalized global occurrence of beach sediment

Tropical regions Carbonate sand composed of coral and algal frag-
ments, shell, and carbonate precipitates abundant;
quartz and rock fragments common in sand, espe-
cially in areas of eroding bedrock and near river
mouths

Temperate regions Quartz sand dominant; rock fragments and feldspar
abundant in sand near river mouths and along
coasts with eroding bedrock

Subpolar and polar Gravel beaches abundant; pure sand present on
regions long, exposed beaches; quartz and rock fragments
common in sand

Oceanic islands Volcanic sands (normally black in color) and car-
bonate sands common

2.3 Waves on Beaches

Most of the wave energy arriving at the shoreline is contained in progres-
sive waves generated by winds blowing over the water. They are termed pro-
gressive because they move in the general direction the wind is blowing.
These waves have two common forms: seas and-swell.

2.3.1 Seas

Seas are highly irregular waves with pointed crests which are produced and
influenced directly by the wind blowing over the water. They generally in-
clude a wide range of wave lengths and periods, making it difficult to de-
scribe the average wave. The height of waves at a given water depth de-
pends on three factors: wind velocity, fetch (the waterway distance over
which the wind blows), and wind duration (length of time a given wind ve-
locity occurs). As each of these factors increases, wave heights increase.

2.3.2 Swell

When the wind stops blowing, seas become more rounded and smooth in appear-
ance, approaching a sinusoidal shape. Such waves are called swell. Be-
cause the velocity depends on the period or wave length, swell waves tend

to sort themselves out naturally at sea, traveling in groups with approxi-
mately equal velocity. Typically, the sea surface contains a complex pat-
tern of locally generated seas interacting with swell from another part of

the ocean.

2.3.3 Waves at the Shoreline

Seas and swell are transformed as they approach the coast because of the
effect of friction as the depth of water decreases. If waves approach at
an angle to the shore, they will bend (refract) toward the shore. Also,
they will generally decrease in height because of shoaling and friction
with the sea floor. Waves break when the depth of water is approximately
equal to the height of the wave. So, a wave one meter high will usually

break in about one meter of water.

2.3.4 Breaking Wave Types

There are three basic types of breakers which occur on beaches, mainly de-
pending on beach slope. Along gently sloping beaches, spilling waves are
most common. These waves have a broad foam area at the wave crest as they
approach the beach, expending their energy over a relatively wide surf
zone. As a rule, they tend to move sand onto the beach. Plunging waves
occur as beach slope increases. They have curling breakers which entrain a
vortex of air as they break. They are more violent than spilling waves and
expend their energy rapidly over a narrow width of the surf zone. As a
rule, they entrain more sediment than spilling waves and commonly tend to
move beach sand offshore to the limit of the outer breaker line. Surging
waves occur on steep slopes and are characterized by a sloshing up and down
the beach. The three breaker types are illustrated in Figure 2.

2.3.5 Wave Erosion

Steep, plunging waves generally cause shoreline erosion and retreat. A
schematic representation of storm waves eroding a beach is given in Figure
3. Beaches typically erode during storms and recover to near-original pro-
files during intervening periods.

SPILLING BREAKERS

FOAM

NEARLY HORIZONTAL BEACH

PLUNGING BREAKERS

STEEP BEACH

SLRGING BREAKERS

FOAM

VERY STEEP BEACH

Figure 2. The three principal. types of breaking waves that occur on the
beach (from Komar, 1976, Figure 4-17)
FOAM.-**;*@

DUNE CREST

BERM

MHW
PROFILE A -NORMAL WAVE ACTION

MLW

ER
OSION MHW

PROFILE B INITIAL ATrACK OF
STORM WAVES MLW

ACCRETION
4ROFILE A

ERO STORM TIDE MHW
CREST SION
LOWERING
PROFILE C -STORM WAVE MLW
CREST ATTACK OF FOREDUNE
RECESSION
ACCRETION
IPROFILE A

MHW

MI_W
PROFILE D - AFTER STORM WAVE ATTACK,
NORMAL WAVE ACTION
ACC TION

PR FILE A

Figure 3. Schematic diagram of storm wave attack on beaches (from U.S.
Army Coastal Engineering Research Center, 1973, Figure 1-7).
'
PROFI@,E
REST
C SSIO@
@REC E

2.4 Currents

There are several categories of currents in the ocean, including tidal cur-
rents, ocean currents, and wave-generated currents. Of these, wave-
generated currents have the most important influence on open coast beaches.
Tidal currents are important in modifying sediment transport near inlets,
but have little effect on uninterrupted straight shorelines, except in
areas with very large tidal ranges (greater than 4 m). Ocean currents only
rarely affect nearshore sand transport. A notable example is the Guyana
Current, a branch of the North Equatorial Current, which moves large quan-
tities of fine-grained sediment discharged from the Amazon River along the

shoreline of northeastern South America.

Wave-generated currents include longshore currents and rip currents.
Longshore currents are discussed in the section on sand transport. Rip
currents flow from the beach seaward and are generally part of a well-
defined nearshore cell circulation such as is illustrated in Figure 4. The
most commonly held theory for the origin of rip currents is that they re-
sult from interactions between incoming waves and edge waves trapped within
the nearshore system (Komar, 1976). Edge waves are free-wave motions in-
troduced by a coast in its interaction with surges or lower-period oscil-
lations (Bowen and Inman, 1971). They are generally standing waves with
crests normal to the shoreline and wave lengths from crest to crest paral-
lel to the shoreline (Komar, 1976, p. 176). Bowen and Innan (1969) demon-
strated that longshore variations in wave setup caused by periodic long-
shore variation in wave height generate lateral flow, with rip currents
flowing seaward at the positions of lowest wave heights. Wave heights are
least where the edge wave and incoming wave are 180 degrees out of phase
(see Figure 5; from Komar, 1976).

2.5 Local Variations in Wave Energy
Wave energy is not distributed evenly along some shorelines. Usually, this
is the result of wave refraction around an offshore island or rocks, over
submerged bathymetric highs or lows, or as the result of a variable orien-

tation of the coast.
The uneven distribution of wave energy along local shorelines (scale
of few kilometers) has been demonstrated in many areas. Two well-known

RIP
HEAD

MASS TRANSPORT

Z Z
W I 1 .1 1 .1 LU
cc
T T T
cc
BREAKER ZONE

'71
Irk
fZ, LONGSHORE CURRENTS K,

BEACH

Figure 4. Nearshore cell circulation consisting of (1) feeder longshore
currents, (2) rip currents, and (3) a slow mass transport returning water
to the surf zone (after Shepard and Inman, 1950).

UNIFORM INCOMING WAVE

W W1 1W
13 .' *..,.. In
UJ Lu in
0 0 10
0 0 z z z
zi 01
W
LARGE SM@LL LARGE SMALL ILARGE
)-.t.*(
BREAKERS
t

70-

'WASH RUN-UP
vx S

Figure 5. Illustration of nearshore rip currents. Note the positioning of
the currents where the breaker height is smallest--that is, where edge
waves and incoming waves are 180 degrees out of phase (from Komar, 1976,
Figure 7-8).

examples, the coast of southern California (U.S.) and the Delmarva Penin-
sula (U.S.), illustrate this principle. In southern California, submarine
canyons occur close to the shoreline. Waves tend to refract away from the
canyon openings, creating areas of decreased wave energy at the shoreline
adjacent to the canyon heads. On the Delmarva Peninsula, submerged linear
ridges project away from shore in a northeasterly direction. Waves passing
over these ridges are focused by wave refraction near the points of inter-
section of the ridges with the shoreface. In both regions, beach erosion
is most critical in areas where wave energy is focused by wave refraction.

2.6 Transport of Beach Sediment

2.6.1 Introduction

Sand transport on beaches is primarily caused by currents generated by
breaking waves. It is estimated that over 90 percent of nearshore sand
transport takes place between the shoreline and the outer line of breaking
waves. This portion of the nearshore area is known as the surf zone and
can vary in width from less than ten to many hundreds of meters.

2.6.2 Longshore Sediment Transport
Sand is moved alongshore on beaches by two mechanisms. Under oblique wave
approach, the paths of moving sand grains on the beach face follow a saw-
tooth pattern as the wave uprush pushes the grains obliquely up the beach
and they roll straight down the slope as gravity pulls back the backwash.
Also, the continuous action of the oblique waves induces a longshore cur-
rent which carries sediment parallel to shore. Both processes are illus-
trated in Figure 6. In many instances, complex sediment circulation pat-
terns are set up in the nearshore zone in response to complicated bar and
rip systems (Figures 4 and 5).
The amount of sand that is transported along a beach by natural pro-
cesses depends essentially on two parameters: (1) wave height and (2)
breaker angle (the angle between wave crest and shoreline). It is possible
to estimate the amount of sand transported at any place on the coastline by
measuring these two parameters each day or during representative periods
during the year. Sand transport is generally measured over a period of one

LONGSHORE FLOW OF BEACH SEDIMENTS

NSPOR
7
RAIN -JR

LONGSHORE CURRENT
WAVE
APPROACH

Figure 6. Longshore f low of beach sediment produced by wave and current
action when waves approach the shoreline at an angle (from Bird, 1968).

year and given as a volume of sand moved past a shore station in units of
cubic meters of sand per year (m'/yr).

2.6.3 Relation of Sediment Supply to Longshore Transport Capacity
Waves have a f inite capacity to move sand alongshore depending on wave
height and breaker angle. If more sand is supplied to the coast than can
be moved by waves, the shoreline will accrete (for example, near the mouths
of rivers). When an approximate balance is maintained between the sediment
supply and longshore transport capacity, the shoreline will remain rela-
tively constant.

2.7 The Sediment Budget

Inasmuch as shoreline changes are primarily a matter of gaining, retaining,
or losing beach sand, an erosion problem can be explained by the concept of
a sediment budget. This budget accounts for gains and losses to the beach
as explained below:
The budget of sediments is nothing more than an application of the
principle of continuity of conservation of mass to the littoral sedi-
ments .... The budget involves assessing the sedimentary contribution
(credits) an d losses (debits) and equating these to the net gain or

loss (balance of sediments) in a given sedimentary compartment (Bowen
and Inman, 1966). (Komar, 1976, p. 227)
The application of this concept provides useful information for dealing
with beach erosion problems, because once the source of sediment loss is
determined, remedial measures can be taken. The concept of the sand budget
has been applied to the California coast by Inman and associates at Scripps
Institution of Oceanography in California (U.S.) (Bowen and Inman, 1966;
Inman and Frautschy, 1966). Bowen and Inman's budget of littoral sediments
for the California coast is given in Table 2. Inman and Frautschy (1966)

divided the southern California coast into a series of littoral cells,

which are shown in Figure 7.

TABLE 2

The budget of littoral sediments for the California coast (after Bowen and
Inman, 1966)

CREDIT DEBIT BALANCE

Longshore transport into Longshore transport out Beach deposition
area of area or erosion
River transport Wind transport out
Sea cliff erosion Offshore transport
Onshore transport Deposition in submarine
Biogenous deposition canyons
Hydrogenous deposition Solution and abrasion
Wind transport onto beach Mining
Beach nourishment

A sediment budget analysis was used by Everts (1980) to deduce the hu-
man influence on the sediment budget of a barrier island. He defined a
"fixed reference frame" within which to work (illustrated in Figure 8). As
a result of the study, several means were suggested in which "human pro-
cesses can be introduced to mitigate a shoreline retreat problem."

SANTA BARBARA CELL

SANTA CRUZ S.
SANTA MONICA CELL

HUENEME

MUGU

REDONDO PEDRO
CELL

ATALINA IS.
'A" CEAN-
NEWPOR
SIDE
LIT ORAL CELL CELL
RIVERS
'RbCKY-
i::C0AST:.,

LITTORAL DRIFT
SAN
LA JOLLA
SUBMARINE CANYON DIEGO

Figure 7. The southern California coast divided into a series of cells,
each cell being a system where rivers add sand to the beaches and the sand
moves south as littoral drift to be trapped within submarine canyons and
lost offshore to deep water (after Inman and Frautschy, 1966; from Komar,
1976, Figure 9-1).

LONGSHORE TRANSPORT
INTO CONTROL VOLUME

BARRIER ISLAND
CONTROL VOLUME
Jj- - - - _' BOUNDARY
VSEA-LEVEL RISE 1-1
INLET TRANSPORT
RAMP TO
SEA-LEVEL
OVERWASH SHOREFACE TRANSPORT
DECLINE 1+1

AEOLIAN TRANSPORT

BEACH RESTORATION
DUNE EROSION
SAND MINING`..@%% SHOREFACE TO
BID. PROD. 1+1 AMP TRANSPORT
0 CHEM. PPTN. 1+1
o INLET TRANSPORT-GF_@ MECHANICAL
ABRASIONH _j
INLET

LONGSHORE TRANSPORT
OUT OF CONTROL VOLUME

PLAN _V I EW

CROSS-SECTION

FRONTAL DUNE
I SEA-LEVEL DATUM
-SHORELINE 1 5-

SHOREFACE
I RAMP
INTERCONTINENTAL SHELF

CONTROL VOLUME BOUNDARYI

CROSS- SE'C' VION

Figure 8. Sediment budget concept used by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers
to deduce man's impact on barrier-island erosion. The suggested control
volume is shown below and transport mechanisms are shown above. Seaward
control volume boundary is depth of reworking of sediment by normal storm
waves (from Everts, 1980, Figure 1).

2.8 Coastal Dunes

An integral part of the natural transport of sand along many shorelines is
the storage of sand in primary foredune ridges. This naturally stored sand
serves two important functions: (1) protects landward areas from erosion
during storms and (2) feeds sediment back into the natural system during
periods of erosion. It is very important to protect the natural foredune
ridge from destruction by man's activities, as it serves as the first line
of defense during storms.

2.9 The Beach Profile

No single beach profile or morphology can be used to characterize beaches.
Based on the writer's field experience in numerous parts of the world, the
morphology of beaches varies greatly from place to place depending upon

such factors as:

1) Type of sediment.
2) Overall wave climate, including relative predominance of storm wave or

swell conditions.

3) Tidal range.
4) Nature and intensity of storms in the area.
5) Degree of exposure to wave attack.
6) Orientation of shoreline relative to storm passage and prevailing

winds.
7) Local variations in reflection and dissipation of waves, such as in
spiral bay systems (discussed by Wright, 1980).
8) Local fluctuations in sediment supply, such as occurs around tidal in-

lets.

9) Slope and depth of nearshore zone.
10) Angle of wave attack and rate and volume of longshore sediment trans-

port.

11) Presence of reflective man-made structures, such as seawalls and re-

vetments.

Some examples of model, or typical, beach profiles, gleaned from the liter-
ature and from the writer's experience, are presented in Figures 9 and 10.

A jo BEACH 0
BACK- _.@__FORE REAKER
SHORE _ SH6RE4- SURF ZONE _V ZONE -@--OFFSHORE
ISWASH ZONEI
BERM
BEACH BERM HT
SCARP CRES.
BEACH LT
FACE

0 10 20 LONGSHORE
005im BAR
M

B 10 BEACH
J*_ BACK- _,4,_13EAC
SHORE FACE LOW-TIDE TERRACE

BERM
HT

RUNNEL BAR
[RIDGE)
BACKSHORE BEACH BREAKER ZONE
IDBI FACE IDBI
DEPOSITIONAL BERM IDBI SWASH ZONE
LDLI HT

0 5 10 STEP
ETT!Niiiiiia "', 100, POSTSTORM PROFILE LT

SWASH ZONE I DURING STORM I I

Figure 9. Examples of representative beach profiles from the west (A) and
east (B) coasts of North America. The California profile (A) develops on a
windward shore dominated by ocean swell, whereas the New England and South
Carolina profiles (B) develop on a leeward shore dominated by storm waves.
Tides are somewhat larger at the two east coast sites (mesotidal; tidal
range 2-4 m).
rr"V,

UPPER FORESHORE LOWER FORESHORE

- HST

k-- RIDGE -AND -RUNNEL ZONE LST
0 200 INTERTIDAL SAND F AT SUBTIDAL
0!%iiiii SAND
M RIDGE

BEACH
BACK-
SHORE SURF ZONE BREAKER ZONE

MU IPLE
BERMS

STEP-THROUGH BAR

0 20
M!Sx_@
M MULTIPLE NEARSHORE BARS

Figure 10. Examples of representative beach profiles from an exposed
macrotidal coast (A) and a microtidal, or lake, shoreline with moderate
waves and mixed sediment grain size (B). Example A (after Parker, 1975) is
from the United Kingdom, but similar examples occur in other macrotidal
settings in western Europe, Alaska, and elsewhere. Profiles like the one
shown in B have been observed by the writer in the Gulf of Mexico and the
Great Lakes. The ridge-and-runnel systems of A and the nearshore bar in B
move landward during accretionary cycles, whereas the multiple nearshore
bars in B are relatively stable.
CE
ER F RE H RE LOWER FORESHORE

LST
T L@
S
D FL
UPP 0 S 0

HST
RIDGE AND R NNE ZONE @INTER @IDA AN AT
1,1 @IRTinA@l

%HR E
6

M
Tit
L
U TIPLE
RERMS

These profiles are examples of sand beaches exposed to moderate-to-high
wave action. Gravel beaches are typically steeper, more cuspate, and prone
to having multiple berms.
Beach profiles can show considerable differences within similar geo-
logical and oceanographic settings. Examples from South Carolina (Figure
11) and south-central Alaska (Figure 12) illustrate this point. The dif-
ferences in the South Carolina profiles are a function of differences in
erosion rates, sediment types, and presence of seawalls and revetments.
Differences in the Alaskan profiles are controlled by differences in grain
size, exposure to waves, and proximity to tidal inlets.

A 4.oo- 1.CB1 0 10/6/75 B 4.00- CR03 1230 20/7/75
WASHOVER TERRACE
0.00- 0.00. LHTS
Z ...... ...@EACH FACE
.......... WL
LHTS -4-00- ......
AtWL
ARCLIATE STRAND CLISPATE DELTA
-8.00. -8.001
0.00 20-00 40M 66.00 80'00 100.00 0.00 20-00 40@00 60*00 80,'00
C 4.00 - FB03 1213 8/8/76 D 4.00- EB01 1329 6/6/75

i 0.00.",-, 0.001.j ......
Z Ae LHTS - -.-. AeLHTS
2 RUNNEL RIDGE WL
5 . - - ----------------------
LU -4.00- WL -4.00
..................
Uj
-8.00 BEACH-RIDGE BARRIER '8.00 TRANSGRESSIVE BARRIER
0.00 20-00 40.'00 60@00 80'00 100. 0 [email protected] 140:00 160:00 0.00 20:00 40:OF '60.00 W00

DISTANCEIMI

Figure 11. Representative beach profiles for four morphological provinces
on the South Carolina coast. Profile A is in front of a seawall; profiles
B and D, which contain abundant oyster shells, are on shoreward-retreating
barrier islands; and profile C is in the middle of a fine-grained, prograd-
ing barrier island. LHTS = last high-tide swash line, WL = water level.
Profiles were measured at low tide (from Hubbard et al., 1977a, Figure 4).
Letters and numbers at top of each diagram indicate profile location and
time and date of measurement.

TYPICAL BEACH PROFILES
-8 2.070

SOF-1 1.790

.7.
HQ-2 1.340

---- -------
MAL-2 -2.000
------@ E8-8
----------- S F1
----------=--------- 0HQ-2
YKG-2 -2 500
CMAL-2
@
AL-5 -9-000 CYKG-2
Wm MAL- 5

0 100
SAND "Mia
M
SAND-GRAVEL

GRAVEL

Figure 12. Typical representatives of intertidal beach profiles measured
at over 100 stations along 600 km of glacial outwash plain shoreline in
south-central Alaska. Note the correlation between beach width and mean
grain size of the beach sediment (-2.0 0 = 4.0 mm; +2.0 @ = 0.25 mm). Pro-
files plotted at 5:1 vertical exaggeration. The circles in the lower right
are ratio comparisons of the sizes of the sediments at each profile (using
phi scale) (from Hayes et al., 1973, Figure 6). These differences in beach
morphology within a single geographic area result from differences in expo-
sure to waves and proximity to tidal inlets, as well as grain size of the
beach sediment.
O@E
8

Ho -

MAL-2
C
YKG_2

M Al _4

The slope of the beach face in a given area will attain an equilibrium
profile under steady conditions. The profile attained is controlled prin-
cipally by sediment grain size and wave height (Komar, 1976). Several
field studies (Bascom, 1951; Wiegel, 1946; McLean and Kirk, 1969; DuBois,
1972) and wave tank experiments (Bagnold, 1940; Rector, 1954) show that
coarser beaches have steeper slopes. Komar (1976, p. 303) explained why:
Due to water percolation into the beach face and frictional drag on the
swash, the return backwash tends to be weaker than the forward uprush.
This moves sediment onshore until a slope is built up in which gravity
supports the backwash and offshore sand transport.
He explained further that coarser beaches allow greater percolation, thus
reducing the strength of the return backwash. Consequently, a steeper
beach face is required to maintain an equilibrium profile on coarse-grained
beaches. Beaches with poorly-sorted sediment tend to be somewhat flatter
than those with well-sorted sediment, because of reduced percolation rates
(McLean and Kirk, 1969). On beaches of comparable grain size, high-energy,
exposed beaches have flatter slopes than low-energy, sheltered beaches, be-
cause larger waves produce stronger backwash which tends to flatten the
profile (King, 1972; Komar, 1976). The relationship of beach slope to
grain size and degree of exposure is illustrated in Figure 13.

2.10 The Beach Cycle
The concept of the cyclical change of beaches from a flat, erosional pro-
file in winter to a wide, depositional berm in summer is well ingrained in
both the popular and scientific literature. The concept originated from
detailed studies on the west coast of the United States (Shepard, 1950;
Bascom, 1954). Bascom's data are illustrated in Figure 14. Generally
speaking, erosional storm waves are more common in the winter, and flatter,
depositional swell waves are more common in the summer on the California

coast--hence the terms summer and winter profiles. Galvin and Haves
(1969) observed a striking contrast between beach cycles on the U.S. east
coast and those on the west coast. Eroded winter profiles are sometimes
absent on northern Atlantic beaches, particularly in the New England area.
This appears to reflect less severe wave climate and relatively smaller
seasonal changes on the northern Atlantic coast. Mean wave heights and pe-
riods are 48 cm and 6.9 seconds along the northern Atlantic and 72 cm. and

0.9 - U.S.WEST COAST BEACHES -
0.8 - 0 0 HALFMOON BAY, CALIFORNIA -
X U.S. EAST COAST BEACHES

0.7 -

M 0.6 -

t4 X
(n 0.5 - XX X
Zo
& X X
cc
00.4 - X
Z
4 C
W 0.3 -
2 X Y-A X
X X X 0
0.2 X X X X __Ck_1
0.1 F I I I I I I I I I I I
1:5 1:7 1:10 1:15 1:20 1:30 1:40 1:50 1:70 1:100
BEACH FACE SLOPE

Figure 13. Relationship of beach grain size to beach-face slope on the
east and west coasts of North America. The more exposed beaches of the
west coast tend to have flatter slopes because of the large volumes of
backwash produced by the larger waves. Halfmoon Bay, California, is par-
tially sheltered by a headland, so its data points fall between the two
extremes (from Komar, 1976, Figure 11-8; based on data of Bascom, 1951, and
Wiegel, 1946).

5-
4-14-46
LU
4-
LU
2.21-471 GROWTH
3- j().46 -----RETREAT

L)
P 2-
cc
LU
>

0- MLLIAf

50 100 150
OFFSHORE (METERS]

Figure 14. Growth and retreat of beach berm of Carmel, California, for
dates ranging from 14 April 1946 to 21 February 1947 (after Bascom, 1954).
These and other observations on the California coast gave birth to the
concept of winter and summer beach profiles.

12.5 seconds along the California coast. These differences in wave climate
result from differences in location on western and eastern edges of oceans
with predominantly westerly winds.
The general consensus today is that the terms winter beach and summer
beach should not be used with reference to erosional and depositional cy-
cles on beaches. Hayes and Boothroyd (1969) used the terms early poststorm
profile and late accretional profile, and Komar (1976) suggested storm pro-
file and swell profile. Further comments on this concept follow:

Davies (1973, p. 117): "On beaches where big storm waves are com-
mon, cut profiles tend to be present at all times: on those where
they are rare, fill profiles become almost permanent features."

Davis and Schwartz (1982, p. 144): "Some regions experience less
coastal energy during the winter than during the summer (e.g.,
Queensland, Australia). Further, it is not uncommon to have an ac-
cretional profile in winter and an erosional or storm profile during
the summer."

Short (1978, p. 1159): "Application of these terms . . . (winter
cut and summer fill) . . . to other wave environments including
southern hemisphere west coast swell coast is often inappropriate
and has led to much confusion and misunderstanding."
On the northern New England coast, northeasterly storms play a domi-
nant role in the generation of cycles of erosion and deposition. Obser-
vations at 40 beach profiles covering most of the New England coast over a
six-year period revealed the following stages of low-tide beach morphology
relative to storm occurrences (Hayes and Boothroyd, 1969):

Early poststorm (up to 3 or 4 days after storm) - Profile is flat to
concave upward and beach surface is generally smooth and uniformly
medium- to fine-grained. Severest storms leave erosional dune
scarps.

Early accretional, or constructional (usually 2 days to 6 weeks af-
ter storm) - Small berms, beach cusps, and ridge-and-runnel systems
are quick to form.

Late accretional, or maturity (6 weeks or more af ter storm) -
Landward -mi g rating ridges weld onto the backbeach to f orm broad,
convex berms. On some beaches, welding does not occur and gigantic
ridges (up to 1.2 m in height) lie between the backbeach and the
low-tide terrace.

Some typical examples of northern New England beach profiles are given in
Figure 9.

There are some similarities between the New England beach cycle and
that described for Nags Head, North Carolina, by Sonu (1968), who found
that after passage of storm waves, a shallow inshore (subtidal) bar quickly
migrated back to the intertidal beach zone and welded to the backshore on
the North Carolina beaches. Work on the South Carolina coast (Hubbard et

al., 1977a) shows that the South Carolina beaches follow a cycle similar to
the New England and North Carolina cycles in the vicinity of inlets. In
mid-barrier areas away from inlets, the beaches are usually flat or contain
low-amplitude intertidal ridges that migrate very slowly in comparison with

the areas near the inlets.
The rates of migration and final welding of the ridges (or bars) vary
greatly from locality to locality. The bars in the Nags Head example
(Sonu, 1968) took only two days to weld, and similar bars in Lake Michigan
took nine days (Davis et al., 1971). At Plum Island, Massachusetts, a
large berm was constructed over a two-week period. In contrast, it took an
entire summer for the ridge at Crane Beach, Massachusetts, the barrier
beach that adjoins Plum Island to the south, to migrate two-thirds of the
way across the intertidal profile. Crane Beach is flat and fine-grained
(average mean grain size around 0.25 mm), and the waves break on large,
offshore bars. The Plum Island beach, on the other hand, is coarse-grained
(average mean grain size around 0.4 mm) and steep, and the offshore bar is
quite deep. Therefore, it is logical to conclude that differences in rates
of migration of ridge-and-runnel systems are determined by:

1) Average wave height.
2) Slope of beach and adjacent offshore areas.
3) Grain size.
4) Length of time waves can work at a single level. Note that in areas
where the tidal range is small (e.g., Lake Michigan), the migration rate
is rapid (Davis et al., 1971).
As more and more data accumulate, it is becoming clear that simple,
two-dimensional beach profiles do not adequately express the dynamic behav-
ior of beaches. Analysis of4,400 beach profiles collected over a ten-year
period along three New Jersey barrier islands (Everts and Czerniak, 1977)
did show that two out of three of the islands have seasonal erosional/

depositional trends (Figure 15). However, one island showed no seasonal
pattern and "storm changes were highly variable between islands and between
profile lines on the same island. Often changes on profile lines less than
0.8 km apart were opposite in sign" (p. 444). These findings indicate that
changes alongshore may be as important as onshore/offshore changes. Thus,
understanding beach morphology is a three-dimensional problem.

5 10
LONG BEACH ISLAND LONG BEACH ISLAND
F] r_1 1:1
0 0 11 - , U
L_@ Lj --- Li

5 - _10
C4-
Z 5 ATLANTIC ITY 2 10 -ATLANTIC CI
0
W
5
0
F]
Fu 0 0
W 0 >
z
_j
W H -5
cc - W
0 M -
x 5 10
(n W
>W 5 10
LUDLAM IS. 5 -LUDLAM IS.

0 __L_j 0

-5

-5- -10

I I I I k I I I I I I I I
J F M A M J J A S 0 N D J F M A M J J A S 0 N D
MONTH MONTH

Figure 15. Beach changes on three barrier islands in New Jersey in terms
of cumulative shoreline position and relative volume of sand in storage on
the beach above MSL. Note that two islands show seasonal patterns of
change, whereas one (Long Beach) does not. Based on 4,400 profile measure-
T

ILFJ-j

ments (after Everts and Czerniak, 1977, Figure 4).

2.11 The Three-Dimensional Beach

The beach is a three-dimensional body of sediment made from material car-
ried to the site by wave-generated currents which flow both parallel and
perpendicular to the shore. On many sandy shorelines, a type of rhythmic
beach topography (Hom-ma and Sonu, 1962) develops. This topography has
been described from the coasts of the Netherlands (Bruun, 1954; Bakker,
1968), North Carolina (Dolan, 1971; Dolan and Ferm, 1968), the Great Lakes
(Evans, 1939), Cape Cod (Goldsmith and Colonell, 1970), and several other
localities. Sonu (1968), who termed the features "cusp-type sand waves,"
discussed them in detail. He stated (p. 383) that Evans (1939) was prob-
ably the first to describe their formation. The total system of rhythmic
topography migrates parallel with the shore in the direction of longshore
drift at different rates, depending upon the size of the features, the lo-
cal wave climate, and probably the grain size of the sediment. In the pro-
cess of formation of rhythmic topography, depositional berms assume cusp-
like shapes; however, these cuspate forms are considerably larger than nor-
mal beach cusps. The wave lengths of most of the cusp-type sand waves at
Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, ranged between 500 and 600 m, and they mi-
grated at rates averaging between 100 and 200 m per month (Dolan, 1971, p.
177). The most important implication of the recognition of the abundance
of rhythmic topography, according to Dolan (1971, p. 178), is the fact that
f1sand beaches cannot be considered in terms of stationary straight lines or
simple angles, but must be treated as nonstationary sinuous forms." A
sketch of the type of rhythmic topography described by Sonu (1968; 1973) is
given in Figure 16.
Studies in recent years on the microtidal, sandy beaches of the swell-
dominated southeastern coast of Australia have provided a more detailed ac-
counting of the three-dimensional variability of high-energy beaches
(Short, 1978, 1979; Wright et al., 1979; Wright, 1980). Short (1978, p.
1,146) proposed a time series of wave and beach conditions separated into
ten beach stages, four erosional, four accretional, and the two end stages
of fully eroded and fully accreted profiles (see Figure 17).
The combined work of Short, Wright, and their colleagues on the south-
eastern coast of Australia gave birth to the concept of morphodynamics,
which is defined as the "combination of beach-surfzone morphology and wave-

0 200

METERS

OBLIQUE WAVES

RIP

BAR

DEPOSITION ZONE BEACH
OF POTENTIAL EROSION

Figure 16. Rhythmic beach topography as described by Sonu (1973). The
shoreline bulges move in the direction of longshore sediment transport at
r@tes of up to hundreds of meters per year.

current dynamics" (Short, 1979, P. 553). Short (1979, p. 567) stated that
"breaker wave power provides the energy to move a beach through various
beach stages" (shown in Figure 17). Wright et al. (1979) placed emphasis
on the reflective and dissipative nature of beaches, based on extensive
field measurements of surf and inshore current spectra and inshore circu-
lation patterns.
According to Wright et al. (1979, p. 105), reflective beaches are
.characterized by steep, linear beach faces, well-developed berms and beach
cusps, and surging breakers with high runup and minimum setup; rip cells
and associated three-dimensional inshore topography are absent. Dissipa-
tive beaches are typically found on open coasts and are characterized by
concave-upward nearshore profiles and wide, flat surf zones which may con-
tain multiple bars. Waves break tens of meters seaward of the beach and
dissipate much of their energy before reaching it. Typical reflective and
dissipative beach profiles are shown in Figure 18.
@YOBLIOUE

ACCRKAAAAR) SEQ11ACL FROSIONAL SFIQ11-INCE
6 P-XR-VIEL B.-\R-0 RNNEL 6. IAPLALLEL B,'@@-C[
PARAL EL BEAr
LOW CONCAVE LOW CONCAVE BEACH FACE
- -H FA EE CHANNEL
CHANNEL 1I.E Wr`-C@E
_E El
M TIDE - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- 1E11RACE ___ B LOW TIDE - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
BEACH A BEACH A
S CRESCENTIC BARS 5 _N1 A-RIPS A Y RIP
CUSP
_L_V__4 I @,J @_ A
MAJOR,"RIP K%CHANNEL
CRM IfNTIC- A
BAR
CRESCENTIC 13AR
CUSP
LOWTkDt - - - - - - - - CHANNEL
13 RIP CHANNEL B BEACH A
@CU@SPS BEACH@ _B_ @_A__@ 0 4 CONTINUO'S C11 I
NIEGAGILSI's 11 -
@NSITIONARY
RIP --- MEGACUSP HORN RIP
CECENTIC
ItBA
CRESCENTIC BAR
MEGA CUSPS SCARP CHANNEL
INCIPIENT RIP CHANNEL
8 A BEACH BAR
BEACHa A
0
S6XR-P

3 WI-DED RAR MINOR
RIP
I@R
! I T NARROW
S
2 SHALL
CHA@N
L
BAR
EAC. BEACH
A
CA 11P11 EROSION SCAR

A CUSP ------
Low _TIDE, HORN WELDE INCIPIENT BAR
I' E@@A I @, BAR
vv'*@ CUSP SWAL SLUMPING 13EACH FACE
@ a 'SCAR- 8
S WELDED B JA
cusp INCIPIE.TfAR
BEACH 6 A BAR
IF 1. BERM

STEEP CONVEX 1. STEEP, CONVEX BEACH FACE
WA@4 @1 TIDE STEP
LOW TIDE 7_ STEP @ERM LOW
=EAI. VV_j__JBEACHJ
CREST BERM@
RUNNEL
I-- 500M 014 loom 0 10 Soo M loo M
I'J'A\ \ I J'\\ pR01.11.1. PLAN VIEW PROHLE

Figure 17. Three-dimensional beach-stage model proposed by Short (1978,
1979) for the microtidal, high-energy beaches of southeastern Australia:
(a) accretionary sequence (6 -> 5 -* 3 -* 2 + 1) during decreasing wave power
(a function of wave height) (solid arrows); (b) erosional sequence
(1 + 2' + 31 + 4' + 5' + 6) during increasing wave power (clear arrows).
Arrows within stages indicate the direction of surf-zone currents, small
arrows at incident frequency, large arrows at lower (infragravity) frequen-
cies. Arrows between adjacent stages show the direction of movement accom-
panying a rise or fall in wave power. Note movement can occur within and
between the two sequences. Positive transition within stages 1, 2, 2" 3,
3', and 4 is represented by the variation in morphology from left to right
TI N ONARY
@1 @A
'IT'
:1N I7PlENTRI1...A-NE1
CR'IECENTIC

C
PS
:

EACH A
SCAR'
BEACH

(from Short, 1979, Figure 3).

w
I-- HIGH BERM
w
2+4
-1 SURGING
3:+2 BREAKERS SLOW SHOALING
LINEAR - ;Z:@ - - MHW
0- STEEP MWL
w BEACH FACE MLw
> 2 - ITAN 13L-.02 -.201 LINEAR LOW- GRADIENT NEARSHORE PROFILE
I TAN B = .012 -.021
w -4 -
cc STEP I COARSE MATERIAL I
Z-6 1 1 1 1 1 1 -
0 50 100 150 200 250
DISTANCE SEAWARD IMETERS1

w
I'_
w NEARSHORE
INSHORE

DISSIPATIVE SURF ZONE STORM
R+4- LOW BERM WITH SETUP BREAK RAPID
w BREAK SHOALING
>+2-

0-
---- ----------- -------
w Or@,UNU t5AN MET CONCAVE
-2 - CONC E UPWARD NEARSHORE
cc UPWARD INNER BAR [POSITION
Z-4 - BEACH HIGHLY VARIABLE I WIDE,SHALLOW PROFILE (TAN t3=.041
PROFILE INSHORE PROFILE
-6- [TAN R = .02 -.011 [TAN B =.01 I

W -8
_j
w 0 50 100 150 20V LOU 300 350
DISTANCE SEAWARD IMETERS1

Figure 18. Typical cross-section profiles of reflective (top) and dissipa-
E
CO@ C
P A'
H(
S_ UPW@@ARD NEARS
P 0 IL
@@HPA
AV ECOND BAR
INNER BAR POSITION
H 1( HLy VARIABLE WIDE S LLOW R F E TAN
INSHO E ROFILE
.011 IT B = .0@
12 AN 11

tive (bottom) beach profiles (from Wright et al., 1979, Figures 3 and 6).

100

In a later paper, Wright (1980) related beach cut, or beach erosion,
to the morphodynamic state of the beach with respect to its reflective or
dissipative character. He envisioned three modes of beach cut in relation
to beach state which are outlined in Table 3. Wright defined six stages of
beach development, five of which are dissipative. The intermediate class-
es, which contain complex nearshore topography, show the greatest mobility
and "relative hazard" of potential beach erosion. However, steep, reflec-
tive beaches are more susceptible to erosion by smaller waves than the oth-
er types. The most energy is required to erode flat, dissipative beaches.

TABLE 3

Modes of beach erosion (cut) in relation to morphodynamic beach state
(after Wright, 1980, Table 1)

RELATIVE
ASSOCIATED BEACH ENERGY
MODE OF BEACH EROSION CAUSE AND SURF-ZONE REQUIRED TO
CONDITIONS INDUCE
BEACH EROSION

1) Accentuated runup Strong REFLECTIVE LOWEST
and berm overtop- subharmonic
ping, formation of resonance
erosional cusps

2) Backshore scarping Strong DISSIPATIVE HIGHEST
by bores superim- infragravity
posed on long pe- oscillations
riod setup oscil-
lations

3) Beach scarping in Radiation INTERMEDIATE- INTERMEDIATE
embayments of ar- stress gradi- RHYTHMIC
rested rip cells ents induced Surf-zone topog-
by irregular raphy in regions
surf-zone adjacent to
topography shoreline protru-
sions, inlets, or
river mouths

101

Many of the beaches studied by Wright and Short occur in spiral embay-
ments. Short (1978) showed the variation of breaker wave power within such
embayments, and Wright (1980) showed the variation of beach reflection/dis-
sipation as well as modes of beach erosion (see Figure 19). These studies
add a new dimension to dealing with beach erosion problems. Wright (1980,
p. 993) concluded:
Since the physical processes responsible for cut are different, differ-
ent beach protection strategies may be required for different morphody-
namic states. For purposes of long-term advance planning, it is the
modal beach states and/or normal range of states that are important.
These may be recognized from sets of long-term ground or remotely-
sensed observations.

2.12 Nearshore Bars

Bar systems develop off beaches in a vast array of forms and numbers, rang-
ing from a single parallel bar to up to 40 multiple bars. They are impor-
tant to beach erosion in that they act as storage systems during storms,
affect sediment transport perpendicular and parallel to shore, and influ-
ence wave behavior. A classification of common nearshore bar types is giv-

en in Table 4. The formation of nearshore bars is not well understood.

Some of the more commonly proposed mechanisms are given in Table 5.

102

z
MODE 2
CC CC
0. 0. CUT
00 0
C-4 M
W LU >

LL LL (n C/)
00
C co
MODE M >
0 0 -n 0
00 N C
x x 3 cc 0 M
7j D z 0
LLJW CUT M a
C/)
& RIPS
UJ >
LU
zo 20THER z
MODES Cn
UJ
CC CC
L)
W
M
RIP
00

MODE 1
CUT

Figure 19. Distribution of modal beach state and associated modes of beach
erosion (cut) within a typical spiral embayment in southeastern Australia
(from Wright, 1980, Figure 12).

103

TABLE 4

Bar classification (slightly modified after Greenwood and Davidson-Arnott, 1979)

MORPHOLOGY PHYSICAL CONTROLS
Definitive
Name Description Number Wave Wave Near- Inter-
Size Planform Profile Seaward Location Energy Processes shore tidal
Slope Slope

Ridge and King (1972) h-0.2-1.5 m Straight, Asymmetric 1-4 Intertidal Low to Surf-swash, - <0.01
runnel 9,-l 03 M shore landward moderate beach
parallel drainage
Cusp- or Sonu (1968) h-0.2-1.5 m Straight to Asymmetric 1-2 Intertidal Moderate Breakers, - >0.01
bar-type Davis and k-102 M spit-shaped, landward and low- surf-swash
sand wave Fox (1972) shore tide
parallel terrace

Multiple Zenkovich h-0.2-0.75 m Straight to Near 4-30 Nearshore Low to Spilling <0.01 -
parallel (1967) k-103 M sinuous, symmetric or and moderate breakers,
shore more intertidal surf
parallel
Transverse Niedoroda h-0.2-0.75 m Straight, Symmetric I Nearshore Low Surf-swash, <0.01 -
(1973) k-102 M shore and asym- and Spilling
normal metric intertidal breakers
landward

Nearshore Shepard h-0.25-1.0 m Straight, Asymmetric 1-2 Nearshore Moderate Plunging <0.1 -
(1950) k-102 M(?) shore landward to high breakers
parallel

Nearshore Evans (1940) h-0.25-3.0 m Straight, Asymmetric 1-4 Nearshore Moderate Spilling <0.01 -
I I Hom-ma and k-103 M sinuous landward breakers
Sonu (1962) to cres-
centric,
shore
parallel

h = bar height; Z = bar length

TABLE 5

Mechanisms controlling types of nearshore bars.

Bar Type Mechanism Reference

Nearshore I (see Vortices under plunging waves Miller (1976)
Table 4)

Multiple parallel Mass transport velocities Suhayda (1974)
bars under reflected standing
waves

Nearshore II (see Standing edge waves Bowen and
Table 4) Inman (1971)

105

3. CAUSES OF BEACH EROSION

Beaches erode when waves remove sediment that is not returned or otherwise

replaced. This can occur aperiodically as a result of storms or as a rela-
tively steady, ongoing process. A specific site has its own individual re-
sponse to erosive processes which are affected by a number of variables,

some of which are discussed below.

3.1 Coastal Morphology

3.1.1 Introduction

The morphology, or shape, of the coast exerts a strong influence on coastal
erosion as well as on the disposition of coastal environments and habitats.
Larger scale features such as continental shelf width, the occurrence of
headlands, and the presence of tidal inlets, as well as smaller scale fea-
tures such as the presence of rhythmic topography and hard ground, may play
important roles in the erosion process.

3.1.2 Shelf Width

The continental shelf is generally defined as that zone between the shore-

line and the position where the break in shelf slope begins. A narrow

shelf allows waves to arrive at the coast at greater heights and at a
greater angle than on a wider shelf because the waves do not shoal or re-
fract as much. Also, it is possible that nearshore sediment is more readi-
ly lost to the offshore zone of narrow shelves during periods of high wave
activity because of the relatively steep slope.

3.1.3 Effect of Headlands

Headlands tend to focus waves and serve as protection of shorelines down-
drift. In some places, the headlands act as natural groins. For example,
rock promontories located at various points along the coast of West Africa
give rise to the formation of embayments on their downdrift sides, such as
Cape Saint-Paul east of the Volta, the bay of Pointe-Noire, and-t-he bay of
Mayumba. The amount of recession of these bays depends,upon the degree of
protection provided against the swell by the rock promontories.

106

3.1.4 Effect of Tidal Inlets

Natural tidal inlets are breaks in barrier beaches that occur at the en-

trances to estuaries or lagoons. The tidal inlet allows the daily or semi-
daily exchange of water generated by changes in tidal levels and river run-
off. Inlets are generally unstable, moving downdrif t at rates that vary
from less than one meter to tens of meters per year depending upon such
factors as rate of longshore sediment transport and inlet depth. A shoal
usually develops seaward of the inlet (called an ebb-tidal delta) which
affects the behavior of waves in the vicinity of the inlet. The size of
the ebb-tidal delta is a function of tidal range, tidal prism, and wave
conditions. Generally speaking, large tides create extensive ebb-tidal
deltas because of the larger tidal prism (volume of water passing through
the inlet) created by the tide. Large waves tend to erode away ebb-tidal
deltas; hence, they are smaller in areas of high wave activity.
Studies of a number of tidal inlets on the east coast of the United
States show that erosional/depositional patterns of adjacent beaches are
controlled closely by morphological changes of the inlets (Hayes et al.,
1974). For example, waves refracting around the ebb-tidal deltas create a
zone of deposition downdrift of the inlet. Sand bars affiliated with the
tidal delta also create local zones of erosion and deposition by focusing
wave energy through wave refraction. As the inlet changes, and the bars
shift position, loci of the focused wave energy will change. And, of
course, as the inlet migrates, the shoreline downdrift is eroded away. An
example of a rapidly migrating tidal inlet is given in Figure 20.

3.1.5 Rhythmic Topography
Shoreline rhythms migrate along the shore at rates of several hundred me-
ters to a kilometer or so per year. As the system migrates, zones of ero-
sion, which occur in the embayments, migrate at the same rate (Figure 17).
Dolan (1971) emphasized the importance of shifting rhythmic topography on
local beach erosion at Bodie Island, North Carolina (U.S.) by demonstrating
that the regular spacing of dune breaching during the Ash Wednesday storm
of March 1962 matched the rhythmic topography. Dolan also showed that in-
tense beach erosion at Cape Hatteras, North Carolina (U.S.) corresponds to
the embayments of rhythmic topography.

107

INLET MIGRATION
NAUSET SPIT

N 0 2KM

1872 1887 1902 1965

Figure 20. Example of a rapidly migrating tidal inlet, Nauset Inlet, Mas-
sachusetts. Note the continuous southerly migration of the inlet since
1872. Such migration is accompanied by dramatic changes in the beaches on
either side of the inlet (from Hine, 1972, Figure 4).

3.1.6 Hard Ground

The existence of wave-resistant material, such as rock, beach rock, or
coral reefs, on or near a beach can slow down coastal erosion considerably.
Barrier reefs act to absorb most of the wave energy before it reaches the
beach; therefore, sand movement is usually low behind such reefs.

3.2 Vegetation
Vegetation is helpful in trapping sediment in motion. This is especially
true for windblown sand at the high-tide line, where a foredune ridge com-
monly forms as a result of this process. However, in the writer's opinion,
the importance of coastal vegetation in stopping beach erosion is overrated
considerably. A breaking wave has no difficulty eroding sprigs of grass.
While planting vegetation will help build up a dune line, greater measures
are usually required to deal with serious erosion problems.
Vegetation in the nearshore zone can act directly to reduce erosion
somewhat by physically binding the sediment and reducing turbulence near
the sediment surface. In certain lagoons and bays, mangroves and marsh
grass accelerate sedimentation of silt and clay (Williams and Harvey, 1983).
j k
7o,

108

3.3 Sea-Level Changes
Sea level has been rising since the end of the last glacial epoch, approxi-
mately 14,000 to 18,000 years before present (BP). Between 14,000 and
7,000 BP, the sea rose rapidly, and the shoreline retreated across the con-
tinental shelf (Milliman and Emery, 1968). According to Kraft (1971), sea
level rose at a rate of about 30 cm per century between 7,000 and 3,000 BP
along the east coast of the United States.
Caution must be exercised in applying sea-level curves from one area
to another, as can be seen in Figure 21, a plot of Holocene sea-level
curves from 11 places around the world. The fact that a relative still-
stand of sea level began around 5,000-4,000 BP (Figure 21) is of great im-
portance to the problem of beach erosion. It is during this period of
relative still-stand that most of the sandy beaches and barrier islands of

the world were formed.

Detailed studies on the east coast of the United States show that sea

level rose as much as 10 cm between 1964 and 1971 (Figure 22). This recent
and relatively rapid rate of sea-level rise of roughly 15 cm per decade is
probably only a short-term fluctuation. Some experts believe that this re-
cent, rapid sea-level rise may be responsible for an increased occurrence
of erosion problems during the last two decades (0. H. Pilkey, pers.
comm.). Others predict that sea level will continue to rise fairly rapidly
in the future due to atmospheric heating (Hoffman, 1983). If this is so,
beach erosion problems will increase.
The theory that a rising sea level brought about by melting ice sheets
is the major cause of beach erosion worldwide prevails in both scientific
and popular literature (Concerned Coastal Geologists, 1981). This widely
held notion is illustrated in Figure 23. A careful analysis of beach ero-
sion in a variety of settings casts considerable doubt on this assumption,
particularly with regard to problems of concern in the near future (�50
years from now). In fact, this writer is of the opinion that, in most
cases, man's impact on sediment supplies and unwise construction practices
cause most beach erosion problems. However, the opinions of the experts
differ markedly on this topic, as the following discussion shows.
Russell (1967) hypothesized that the present "still-stand" of the last
5,000 years or so (Figure 21) has, in fact, caused erosion by bringing

109

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

lv@
+ 1 m
Present Sea Level

.4.

5 -5

.4
-10
10-

-15-
LEGEND

......... Fairbridge 1961

Ters 1973

--- Schofield 1961, 1975 -
M6rner 1969, 1976 -20-

Tooley 1974

Schol I et al, 1969

Shepard 1963

Jelgersma 1961.1966 -
Kraft 7971 -25-
10
Suggate 1968 -

Liclin 1938

3 14
time in 10 C years BP
30 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 -30-

Figure 21. Eleven Holocene sea-level curves representing different parts
of the globe. Curves 1-4, 6-7, and 10 are supposed to be eustatic (abso-
lute sea-level) curves. The others are relative sea-level curves (with
curve 11 being plotted with changed sign) (from M6rner; 1982, Figure 1).
The great differences among these curves stress two factors: (a) the dif-
ferences in tectonic conditions around the world's coastline, and (b) the
imperfection of the techniques used for sampling and age dating of Holocene
sediments.

110

30- CHARLESTON, S.C.

25-

20-

15-

10-
Cn

5-
FORT PULASKI, GA.
01 1 1
1;20 1930 1940 1950 1960 1970
TIME [YEARS]

Figure 22. Changes in sea level with respect to the adjacent land at
Charleston, South Carolina, and Pulaski, Georgia (from Hicks and Crosby,
1974). These curves illustrate a rapid increase in rate of sea-level rise
over the past 50 years.

A. SHORT-TERM EROSION

FIRST DUNE HOUSE IBEFORE STORM)
(AFTER STORMI FIRST DUNE IBEFORE STORM]
FALLEN HOUSE NORMAL HIGH TIDE
[AFTER STO I
OCEAN

PROFILE AFTER STORM

PROFILE BEFORE STORM

B. LONGTERM MIGRATION

MOVEMENT OF DUNE IEROSION1

PROFILE BEFORE RISE IN SEA LEVEL
PRESENT MEAN SEA LEVEL,

OCEAN
PROFILE AFTER RISE
IN SEA LEVEL PREVIOUS MEAN SEA LEVEL

Figure 23. Beach and dune changes resulting from storms and the relative
rise of sea level (modified after Pilkey et al., 1975). Note that, accord-
ing to this idea, the catastrophic event (storm) and the slow change (sea-
level rise) work together to achieve shoreline retreat.

112

about a period of disequilibrium in which sand lost is not replaced by new
supplies. He assumed that the rapidly rising sea of earlier times had
somehow brought large volumes of sediment to the shore zone.
Galvin (1983, p.2,084), in challenging a report by Concerned Coastal
Geologists (1981), asserted that "sea-level change has negligible effect on
shore erosion, compared to fluctuation in longshore transport rate." On a
site-specific basis, Galvin's assertion is demonstrably true. In South
Carolina, for example, beaches that are eroding tens of meters per year are
located within a few kilometers of shorelines accreting tens of meters per
year. The differences are usually related to sediment bypassing at major
tidal inlets. On the other hand, changes in water level clearly impact
shoreline erosion in the Great Lakes (Hands, 1977), which show 11-year cy-
cles of major water-level changes. Hands concluded (p. 162):
Extrapolation from studies on Lake Michigan suggests that even modest
rates of submergence can have measurable effects on shore erosion and
profile development. Profile response on the lakes is evident across a
500 m wide zone, to a depth of about 9 m. The relationship between
submergence and recession is nonlinear and time-dependent. Complete
profile adjustment lags years behind changes in water level. Greater
retreat is observed in areas where recession supplies a smaller volume
of material per unit of retreat. This is in keeping with the sediment
budget concept of profile response.
For any given coastal area not unduly influenced by man, it is the in-
teraction of sediment supply and water-level changes that controls beach
erosion. In some areas, fluctuations in sediment supply prevail, and in
others, rapid changes in water level are most important. The most serious
erosion problems occur either where man interferes with sediment supply or
where some unusual phenomenon causes unusually rapid changes in water level
e.g., in Lake Michigan and around sinking abandoned delta lobes on the
Mississippi delta).

3.4 Storms

The most dramatic erosion of shorelines occurs during major storms, which
usually result from the passage of tropical or extratropical cyclones.
Much of the eastern and southern shoreline of the United States is affected
by a tropical cyclone, or hurricane, every few years (Figure 24). Shepard
and Wanless (1971) in their book Our Changing Coastlines described

113

@XXXX:

.... .......

V @r
-;7

Figure 24. Computer plot showing the tracks of a selected number of Atlan-
tic tropical cyclones, 1886 through 1969 (from Neumann and Hill, 1976).

hurricane-related changes on the east and Gulf coasts of the United States
on the basis of aerial photographic interpretations. Notable among their
many discussions of hurricane effects are the descriptions of the impact of
Hurricanes HAZEL (1954) and HELENE (1958) on the Outer Banks of North Caro-
lina. During these storms, many houses and hotels were washed away and a

series of new tidal inlets were formed.

Extratropical cyclones are the dominant force in initiating beach cy-
cles on the east coast of North America (previously discussed). The effec-
tiveness of these storms, which occur several times a year, is determined
by (1) size of storm, (2) speed of storm movement, (3) tidal phase and
stage, (4) storm path, and (5) time interval between storms (Hayes and
Boothroyd, 1969).

114

Hayes (1978) summarized geological studies conducted on erosion during
14 separate hurricanes that occurred mostly between 1957 and 1975. Table 6
is a brief accounting of the results of those studies. For purposes of

conciseness, this discussion of storms will focus on hurricanes in North

America, but the principles learned apply elsewhere.

3.4.1 Hurricanes

Technically, a hurricane is a storm of tropical origin with a cyclonic wind
circulation (counterclockwise in the Northern Hemisphere) of 74 miles per
hour or higher (Dunn and Miller, 1960, p. 9). The hurricane is the North
Atlantic member of the tropical cyclone family that includes the typhoon of
the western North Pacific, the cyclone of the northern Indian Ocean, and
the willy-willy of Australia (Tannehill, 1956). Tropical cyclones are the
most powerful and destructive of all storms (Dunn and Miller, 1960;
Tannehill, 1956). Tornadoes have higher wind velocities (central axis ve-
locities may attain 640-800 km/hr), but tropical cyclones are also intense
(winds may reach 250-300 km/hr) and cover a much larger area. At one
stage, Hurricane CARLA's (1961) circulation enveloped the entire Gulf of
Mexico, and fringe effects were felt by all Gulf Coast states (Cooperman
and Sumner, 1962).

Tropical cyclones occur in the North Atlantic with a frequency of ap-
proximately 7.5 per year and occur most often during the months of August,
September, and October. The season of maximum occurrence of tropical cy-
clones corresponds roughly to the time when the ITC (intertropical conver-
gence zone, or equatorial trough) has its maximum divergence from the equa-
tor (Hayes, 1967a, p. 4).

3.4.2 Storm Surge
The storm surge is the rise or fall of the sea level caused by a meteoro-
logical disturbance (Pore, 1961, p. 151). As used here, it refers to the
hurricane surge, or a rapid rise in the water produced by hurricane winds
and falling barometric pressure, and other factors (Dunn and Miller, 1960,
p. 207).
Not only is the storm surge or storm tide the primary cause of death
and property damage in a hurricane (Freeman et al., 1957, p. 12), it is

115

TABLE 6

Effects of a selected group of hurricanes (from Hayes, 1978, Table 1)

Hurricane (Date) Landfall Characteristics Documented Effects References
Sept. 1938 Long Island; Large; max. surge Extreme shore erosion; formation of Nichols and Marston
Connecticut 4 m; winds 200 km/ inlets and washovers; record flooding (1939)
hr; heavy rains
Audrey (1957) Texas- Medium; max. surge Shoreline retreat (25-30 m) in Morgan, Nichols, and
Louisiana 4 m; winds to 130 chenier plain area; mud deposition; Wright (1958)
border km/hr shell berms deposited over marsh;
numerous breaches through barriers
and cheniers; mud flats not modified
Donna (1960) Florida Keys; Medium; max. surge Erosion of platform-edge reefs; mud Ball, Shinn, and
southwest of 3 m; winds to layers deposited on supratidal flats; Stockman (1967);
Florida 200 km/hr spillover lobes of coarse sediment de- Perkins and Enos
posited in breaks through reef fronts; (1968); Tanner (196 1)
beach erosion and inlet breaching in
SW Florida
Carla (1961) Central Texas Large; max. surge Eroded beaches; breached barrier is- Hayes(1967)
of 7 m; huge waves; lands; washover fans reactivated; mud
winds to 200 km/hr layers and shell layers on tidal flats;
sed. layer on inner shelf
Hattie (1961) British Large; max. surge of Heavy destruction of reef corals; Stoddart (1963, 1965)
Honduras 4 m; winds to 200 island overtopping and erosion; de-
km/hr struction of plant communities
Cindy (1963) East Texas Sniall; max. surge Only beach changes (mostly deposi- Hayes(1967)
of I m tional)
Betsy (1965) Bahamas; Medium; max. surge Erosion of spillover lobes on Bahamas; Perkins and Enos
Florida Keys 3 m; winds 200 km/hr deposition of spillover lobes at Cape (1968); Pray (1966);
Sable, Fla.; beach erosion in NW Flori- Warnke et al. (1966)
da; generally minor effects

Beulah (1967) Texas-Mexico Medium; max. surge Opened storm and tidal channels; de- Scott, Hoover, and
border of 3 m; winds to 240 posited washovers; deltas formed on McGowe n (1969);
kmjhr; heavy rains bay margins McGowen (1970);
McGowen and Scott
(1975)
Camille (1969) Louisiana; I.Arge; record storm Spit eroded at Miss. river mouth; is- Wright, Swaye, and
Mississippi surges > 7 m; heavy lands eroded and washed over; sand Coleman (1970);
border rains; winds 200 km/ washovers deposited on peats; deposi- Sonu(1970)
hr tion on natural levees
Celia (1970) Central Texas Medium; max. surge Minor breaching of barriers; minor McGowen et al. (1970)
3 m;highly destruc- beach erosion; heavy wind damage
tive winds to 150 km/
hr; little rain; very
fast moving
Ginger (1971) Outer Banks, Medium; max. surges Dune recession in man-modified areas; Dolan and Godfrey
N.C. of 2.5 m; winds to overwash processes and overwash depo- (1973)
120 km/hr; heavy sition elsewhere
rains
Fern (1971) Louisiana; Small; slow moving; Mostly excessive rain and flooding McGowen and Scott
south Texas heavy rains (1975)
Agnes (1972) Northwest Medium; winds to 120 Runoff produced by storm introduced Schubel(1974);
Florida; km/hr; max. surge as much sediment into upper 40 km Zabawa and Schubel
New York 2 m (in Fla.); large of Chesapeake Bay in one week as (1974)
circulation; extremely would be normally deposited in fifty
heavy rains years
Eloise (1975) Northwest Medium; max. surge Mostly erosion related to storm surge Morton (1976)
Florida 5 m; winds to 2 10 and wave set up; wind damage and
km/hr; rains variable; flooding minimal
fast moving

116

also the characteristic of hurricanes most responsible for making them im-
portant erosive agents. The rise in water level brought about by hurri-
canes inundates vast areas of low-lying coastal regions, producing wide-
spread erosion and deposition of formerly subaerial sediments.
The two most important factors in the generation of storm surges are
the stress of wind on the sea surface (sometimes called wind setup) and re-
duction of atmospheric pressure, or inverted barometer effect. Winds of
North Atlantic hurricanes have frequently reached velocities of 130 to 200
km/hr, and a few have attained 300 km/hr (Dunn and Miller, 1960). The

width of the path of a single storm may extend 300 to 500 km. These fac-

tors, combined with the fact that a storm may last for several days, give
hurricanes the ability to pile up tremendous quantities of water against
the coastline. Several other factors, such as shoreline configuration and
shape and slope of continental shelf, may also tend to accentuat-e, or modi-
fy, the storm surge. Two hurricanes, CARLA (1961) and CAMILLE (1969), have
generated surges on the order of 7 m on the Gulf Coast of North America.

3.4.3 Waves

Probably the most spectacular geological effect of hurricanes is the ero-
sion produced by breaking waves on an exposed shoreline--a cubic yard of
water weighs about three-fourths of a ton, and a breaking wave may move
forward at speeds up to 80-100 km/hr (Dunn and Miller, 1960). The erosive
effects of waves are greatly increased when they ride the crest of a large
storm surge, because much greater land areas are exposed to erosion. Some
hurricane waves attain tremendous heights. Twelve- to fourteen-meter waves
were reported by Coast Guard stations in New England during Hurricanes
CAROL and EDNA of 1954 (Pore, 1957).

3.4.4 Currents

Although current measurements made during the passage of hurricanes are
scarce to nonexistent, some indirect evidence indicates that the strong
winds associated with hurricanes set up appreciable nearshore currents.
Tannehill (1956, p. 34) described the effects of currents generated by the
Texas hurricane of 1915 as follows: ". . . the current set up by the storm
carried Trinity Shoals gas and whistling buoy nearly ten miles to the

117

westward. This buoy weighed 21,000 pounds and was anchored in 42 feet of
water with a 6,500 pound sinker and 252 feet of anchor chain weighing 3,250
pounds." Numerical and analytical models by Forristall (1974) and Sloss
(1972) indicate that strong currents flow parallel to the coast during the
approach and landfall of a hurricane, inasmuch as winds pile up water
against the land to the right of the storm and push water offshore to the

left of the storm.

Breaking waves, especially those breaking obliquely to the shoreline,

generate strong longshore currents during hurricanes. Timbers and pilings
from Bob Hall fishing pier on northern Padre Island, Texas, which was com-
pletely destroyed by Hurricane CARLA (1961), were found for tens of miles
south along the beach after the storm (Hayes, 1967a, p. 7). Murray (1970)
measured currents up to 160 cm/sec in 6.3 m of water off the coast of
northwest Florida during the passage of Hurricane CAMILLE (1969).
Strong currents flow in hurricane channels cut into Texas coast barri-
er islands during the high-water stage of the hurricane surge (Hayes,
1967a; Scott et al., 1969; McGowen et al., 1970). Ball et al. (1967) also
made this observation in the passes between the Florida Keys during Hurri-
cane DONNA (1960), when currents washed out the interisland bridges and
broke the pipeline supplying fresh water to the islands where the pipe
crossed the bridges.

3.4.5 Life and Death of a Storm

Introduction. A succession of papers, including those of Price (1956),
Hayes (1967a), Scott et al. (1969), and McGowen et al. (1970), have out-
lined the various changes in storm effects that take place during the ap-
proach, landfall, and dissipation of hurricanes. All of these papers have
dealt with storms striking the Texas coast. For purposes of discussion,

the life and death of a Texas coastal hurricane can be divided into four

stages: (1) approach (or storm-surge flood), (2) landfall, (3) early
aftermath (or storm-surge ebb), and (4) late aftermath.
Approach. This is a period of rising tides, increased wind veloc-
ities, and increased wave heights. The slower the storm moves, the larger
the storm surge. Some important effects during this period include erosion
of shelf and shoreface, shore erosion, breaching of barrier islands and

118

formation of washover fans, and mud deposition on supratidal flats (Hayes,
1967a). During this phase, longshore currents are generated that flow from
north to south (on the Texas coast).

Landfall. As the storm passes over the shore, the pattern of current
and wave attack shifts into compliance with the direct influence of the
counterclockwise winds of the hurricane (McGowen et al., 1970, p. 5). Wa-
ter and sediment are pumped out of the bays on the south side of the storm,
whereas water is still being pushed shoreward on the north side. This is

the time of most severe coastal winds.

Early aftermath. As the storm moves inland, it becomes more diffuse

and weaker. Winds blow either offshore or from south to north. This shift

in wind direction and sudden rise in barometric pressure cause strong
storm-surge ebb currents to flow seaward which scour out the hurricane
channels and inlets and deposit bay and nearshore sediments on the barrier
shoreface and inner continental shelf (Hayes, 1967a). Wave erosion grad-
ually diminishes with the falling water levels, and longshore currents flow
from south to north (McGowen et al., 1970).
As the storm moves further inland, it may be accompanied by tornadoes
and heavy rains which produce large-scale runoff of flood proportions, in-
undating low-lying areas along stream courses and bay margins (Scott et
al., 1969). Differences in the tracks of storms after landfall greatly in-
fluence the extent of flooding and deltaic deposition [in the bays] (Mc-
Gowen and Scott, 1975, p. 27). For example, Hurricane BETJLAH (1967)
stalled and went up the Rio Grande valley, producing rains in excess of 40
cm at many stations in south Texas (Scott et al., 1969).
Late af termath. During the weeks and months following the storm,
longshore currents build bars across the mouths of the tidal passes cut by
the storm (Hayes, 1967a), waves restore the normal beach profile (Sonu,
1970; Morton, 1976), mud settles from suspension in the bays and in strand-
ed ponds (Hayes, 1967a), exposed fine-grained deposits are reworked by
rain, desiccation ' and wind (McGowen et al., 1970), and the wind blows some
of the sand left exposed on the washover fans by the storm either back to
sea or further into the bay (Andrews, 1970).

119

3.5 Tidal and Seasonal Water-Level Chan@es
The tides follow a cycle which is controlled by the position of the sun and
moon relative to the earth. When the sun and moon are in syzygy (i.e., in
line with each other), the tidal range is greatest (spring tides), and when
they are in quadrative (i.e., at right angles to each other), the tidal
range is least (pfaR tides). Spring and neap tides occur twice each lunar

month.

The most severe erosion of the beach occurs at high tide. During
spring tides, higher levels of the beach are exposed to wave action than
during neaps, so erosion is at a maximum. Observations on the east coast
of the United States by university researchers and the U.S. Army Corps of
Engineers show that storms do their greatest damage when they cross the
coast during a high spring tide. Observations on the southeastern U.S.
coast show that the beach may be erosional during spring tides and deposi-
tional during neaps under similar wave conditions. Erosion occurs at
spring tide because (1) the dune ridge is exposed to wave action, and (2)
the beach sediment is water-saturated because of the higher level of the

sea.

Water-level changes also show seasonal variations. On the coast of
the United States, sea level is generally lowest in the spring and highest
in the fall (Figure 25). This fact is well known by east coast developers
who have built too close to the beach, as the high tides in the fall com-
monly cause them problems. According to Komar (1976, p. 148), these annual
sea-level changes can be attributed primarily to seasonal variations in
climate and ocean water properties. However, much is yet to be learned
about the causes of annual changes in water level.

3.6 Natural Changes in Sand Supply
Beach erosion may be accelerated in places where the sand supply is de-
creased abruptly by natural processes. Two of the more common ways this
can happen are: (1) switching of river mouths on major river deltas, and
(2) tidal inlet migration or bar-bypassing (previously discussed; Figure
26).
The modern Mississippi delta complex is composed of an array of aban-
doned delta lobes (Frazier, 1967; Figure 27). A birdfoot or lobate delta

120

JAN. APR. JULY OCT JAN. APR. JULY OCT

EUGENEISLAND
1940-1950

KEY WEST
1930-1948

GALVESTON
1930-1948

CEDAR KEYS
1939-1950 30

Cn
ir 20
w
w ROCKPORT
1948-1950
PENSACOLA z
1930-1948 w 10

BAYOU RIGAUD
1948-1950 PORTISABEL
1945-1950

Figure 25. Seasonal variations in sea level along the Gulf coast of the
United States, determined from tide observations (after Marmer, 1952; from
Komar, 1976, Figure 6-1).
'-OLA//*@\
194.
Dj@

121

1963

1941

1964

1949

i967

1953

1968
EPP,
1957

973

MARSH
1959 MM FORESTED BEACH IJ&iis
INTERTIDAL SAND BODIES
@ACCRETIONARY PHASES OF
BEACH RIDGE DEVELOPMENT

Figure 26. Shoreline changes of Price Inlet, South Carolina, between 1941
and 1973, as determined from vertical aerial photographs. On the south-
western side of the inlet, shoreline progradation has been a product of bar
migrations around the inlet. Accretion on the opposite side of the inlet
is due to bar migrations and spit growth. Erosion to either side of the
inlet occurs when the ebb-tidal delta (offshore shoal) is asymmetric to one
side of the inlet, exposing the other side to storm wave attack (from
FitzGerald and Hayes, 1980, Figure 11).

122

MISSISSIPPI DELTA COMPLEX
BATON ROUGE (RECENT)

-'@--NEW ORLEANS
ABBEYVILLE

...... . ...

... ...........

15 0 is
I!TT6;0!T!!n
MILES =PLAQUEMINES-MODERN DELTA COMPLEX
= LAFOURCHE DELTA COMPLEX
MST. BERNARD DELTA COMPLEX
MTECHE DELTA COMPLEX
=3MARINGOUIN DELTA COMPLEX

Figure 27. Principal delta lobes that have developed on the Mississippi
delta during the past 5,000 years. Once a lobe is abandoned, its margin is
eroded rapidly (after Frazier, 1967)

123

builds seaward until the main distributary channel loses its gradient ad-
vantage. Then, the river chooses a shorter, steeper avenue to the sea,
abandoning the protruding delta lobe. Once abandoned, the lobe begins to
sink, the sea transgresses over it, and waves erode its margin and create
narrow barrier islands that migrate rapidly landward.

3.7 Man-Induced Changes in Sand Supply
There are many ways in which the activities of man have changed the supply
of sediments to beaches. If these activities result in significant loss in
sand, the beach will probably erode. Some examples of these activities are
given below.

3.7.1 Dams on Rivers

Sediment contribution of any river discharging on the coast is of great im-
portance to the sediment budget of that coast. If a dam is built on the
river in order to create a reservoir for storage of water, the current ve-
locities in the river are reduced to such an extent that practically all
sediment carried by the river settles in the reservoir. The water dis-
charged by the spillway has a very low sediment content and, therefore, a
high erosive capacity. In the first years after construction of the dam,
degradation of the river bed immediately below the dam may be expected.
Later, a new equilibrium will be established, generally with much lower
sediment transport due to reduction of sediment supply from upstream.

3.7.2 Diversion of Rivers

Some engineering structures call for the diversion of river systems from
their original channels. This has the same effect as the natural switching
of river channels (discussed above)--namely, increased erosion due to di-
minished sand supply. The diversion of 90 percent of the flow of the San-
tee River, South Carolina (U.S.), in 1940 essentially cut off the sediment
supply to the coast (Stephen et al., 1975). The beaches at the river mouth

have eroded hundreds of meters since the diversion.

124

3.7.3 Sand Mining
River sand and gravel are important sources of building and fill aggregate
in many parts of the world. In areas where large seasonal variations in
river flow occur, the reduced water level in streams during periods of low
river f low makes it easy to mine sand and gravel directly from the river
bed. Such extraction of river sediment can have a direct impact on coastal

erosion in that it will result in either a decrease in the volume of sedi-

ment brought to the shoreline or an increase in river erosion downstream,
or both. If the sediment mining occurs in the lower reaches of the river
system, it is unlikely that erosion downstream will replenish the volume of
sediment lost by extraction. In this case, there will be a net deficit in
the volume of sediment brought to the coast.
Mining beaches for construction material is a common practice on many
shorelines. In areas of strong longshore drift or high wave energy, this
can result in local coastal erosion, because removing sand from a beach re-
duces the sediment supply available to the longshore transport system. In
many areas of Europe and Africa, intensive beach mining has resulted in se-
vere beach and coastal erosion problems, particularly where there is no
fluvial (riverine) sand input to replenish the mined sand.
Offshore sand mining influences coastal erosion if it is done on
shoals which act as partial breakwaters. Dredging these shoals has two ef-

fects:
1) Alteration of depth contours,which changes wave refraction patterns and
may cause a focusing of wave energy at the shore, and
2) Elimination of a natural breakwater,which acts to reduce wave energy ar-

riving at the shoreline.
Offshore mining in water deeper than about 15 m has little effect on shore-
line erosion since it is rarely extensive enough to alter wave refraction
patterns and will not cause a significant change in wave heights.

3.7.4 Modification of Inlets

Inlets along coasts are influenced by tidal action as well as by the lit-
toral drift. From the studies made by O'Brien (1931) it is well known that
the stability of the inlet is governed by the relative strength of the lit-
toral drift and the tidal prism volume. Sand bypasses the inlet by bar

125

migration or by tidal current transport of individual grains. On coasts
with large littoral drift, there is a tendency for the inlet to migrate due
to the infilling of the mouth on the updrift side.
Modifications to a tidal inlet, therefore, can have significant influ-
ence on the erosional/depositional patterns on adjacent beaches. Artifi-
cial deepening of an inlet for development of harbors, for example, could
change the bar-bypassing nature of the inlet, depriving the downdrift coast
of its supply of sediment and thus leading to erosion. Where inlets serve
as the only outlet to the sea for a coastal lagoon, they are commonly "cut
open" artificially in order to maintain a given level of water quality
within the lagoon. Such a cut interferes with longshore sand transport. A
similar effect would be felt by constructing jetties for artificial stabi-
lization of the inlets. A large number of sand-bypassing plants, which
move the littoral drift past jettied inlets, have been built in the United
States in order to prevent coastal erosion on the downdrift sides of the

inlets.

3.7.5 Construction of Shore-Perpendicular Structures
Jetties, piers, groins, and outfalls are structures built more or less per-
pendicular to the shore. Their functions may differ, but they all have a
common effect on the shoreline: their blockage of sediment transport

causes erosion on their downdrift sides.

Jetties are built at a river mouth or a tidal inlet in order to stabi-

lize the channel, to prevent shoaling by littoral drift, and to protect the

channel entrance from storm waves. Jetties direct or confine the flow to
help in the channel's self-scouring capacity. Jetties extend through the
entire nearshore to beyond the breaker zone in order to prevent the entry
of littoral sediment into the channel. The jetties act as barriers to the
longshore drift, causing the sediment to accumulate on the updrift side.
At the same time, on the downdrift side of the jetties, the sand transport
processes continue to operate and cause the sand to move away from the jet-
ties, resulting in the erosion of the shoreline.
Groins are structures built perpendicular to the shoreline to help
beach buildup by trapping a portion of the littoral drift. They are rela-
tively narrow in width and may vary in length from 10 m to about 200 m.

126

Though their function differs from the jetties, they are also barriers to
littoral drift. Groins may be used in a series--groin fields--to protect a
large area, but the zone of erosion will shift downcoast through time.
Once a groin is filled, some littoral drift may pass by its seaward end.
While sand is accumulating between the updrift groins, the sand is prevent-
ed from reaching the downdrift groins, enhancing erosion there. To prevent
such damages, groins may be filled by artificial nourishment. Poorly de-
signed groins may deflect sand past their ends into deeper water, resulting
in its loss to the littoral drift system.
Outfall structures built to carry storm sewers may also cause buildup
on their updrift sides and erosion on their downdrift sides. The erosion
downdrift can be minimized by building the outfalls on piles.
Examples illustrating the effect of the structures mentioned above are
shown in Figures 28 and 29. The jetties built in 1935 to stabilize the in-
let south of Ocean City, Maryland, on the Atlantic Coast of North America
trapped the southerly littoral drift, causing the beach to erode on the
south side by 450 m in 20 years. By 1961, the south beach had eroded to
the point where it actually separated from the inner end of the south jet-
ty, leaving a gap of almost 240 m of open water. The situation had to be
controlled by dredging and filling the eroded area. The construction of a
pier in 1875 at Madras, India, created serious problems of erosion just
north of it due to accumulation of sand on the south side, because that

coast is influenced by very strong littoral transport from south to north.

The erosion on the north side extended to as much as 5 km and had to be

checked by use of seawalls and bypassing of dredged sand.

3.7.6 Construction of Seawalls and Revetments

In areas experiencing severe erosion, it is sometimes necessary to con-
struct vertical seawalls and revetments to protect valuable property.
Thousands of examples could be cited to demonstrate the effectiveness of
such structures in saving property. However, erosion of the beach itself
is usually accelerated in front of these features because of wave reflec-
tion from the hard, vertical structures. According to Silvester (1977, p.
639), when waves are obliquely reflected from such walls, energy is applied

127

GROINS JETTIES

EROSION

BREAKWATER DIRECTION OF LITTORAL DRIFT

HEADLANDS

EROSION

Figure 28. Examples of shore-perpendicular features which block longshore
transport, causing erosion on their downdrift side (modified after Komar
1976, Figure 9-7).

EROSION

40 50
INITIAL SHORELINE 25
5 15

5 3
110
10 OU 40 25

DEPOSITION

0 1 2km

LITTORAL TRANSPORT
Sj: 1.5 X106 M3/yr

Figure 29. Illustration of the blockage of littoral sand transport by the
emplacement of a breakwater or groin transverse to the drift. This example
is from a physical laboratory model of a proposed breakwater at Cotonou,
Benin; included are the shoreline changes, given in years, as well as the
drift rate pertaining to the prototype. Twenty minutes of model operation
is equivalent to a year of prototype conditions according to the model
(after Sireyjol, 1965; from Komar 1976, Figure 8-1). Field conditions
mimicked the model.

128

"doubly" to the sediment bed and "hence expedites the transmission of mate-
rial downcoast." This process is illustrated in Figure 30.

WAVE CREST

WAVE
ORTHOGONAL

�S;EROSION SHOAL

IMA L. L ORIGINAL SHORELINE

EROSION

Figure 30. Illustration of erosion in front of and on downdrift side of
seawall (modified after Silvester, 1977, Figure 8). The approaching wave
crests meet the reflecting wave crests at approximately right angles, gen-
erating a flow parallel with the shore in a downdrift direction. This cur-
rent scours a channel a few meters seaward of the wall. Wave orthogonol--
line drawn perpendicular to wave crest.

129

4. METHODS USED TO PREVENT BEACH EROSION

4.1 Introduction

Engineers have attempted to curtail beach erosion for centuries. Their
success ratio is variable, depending upon the vagaries of the sediment sup-
ply, storm-wave conditions, and water-level changes in the erosion zone. A
list of the commonly used methods is given in Figure 31 and definitions of
some of the structures used are given in Table 7.
In determining what kind of structure to erect to stop erosion in a
given area, engineers usually apply a set of criteria to the site. These
normally include the following (Kana et al., 1980):
1) Definition of a need to protect the critically eroding, or flood-prone,

area.

2) The desirability to achieve continuity in structure design (including
type, crest elevation, and position) within communities.
3) The requirement of the design to be compatible with some predetermined,
combined wave-and-water level (usually 50- to 200-year levels).
4) The need for structure designs to have a design life of a given number
of years (usually at least 50).
5) The most cost-effective method that will achieve long-term protection.
A brief discussion of some of the methods proposed is given below.

4.2. "Hard" Engineering Solutions
4.2.1 Introduction

Engineers usually deal with beach erosion by building resistant, permanent
features which reflect or dissipate incoming waves. These are referred to
as "hard" solutions in this discussion.

4.2.2 Seawalls, Revetments, and Bulkheads
In places where fixed property (such as highways, cottages, and hotels) is
threatened by erosion, seawalls, revetments, and bulkheads are usually
constructed. Examples of these types of structures are shown in Figures 32
and 33. Seawalls are massive, concrete structures designed to hold a line
against storm-wave erosion. Reflecting waves tend to set up scour in front
of such walls, as shown in Figure 30. Usually, the end result is that the
fixed property is saved for some period of time and beach sand in front of

130

COMMONLY USED METHODS FOR
CONTROL OF BEACH EROSION

r
SHORELINE BACKSHORE
STABILIZATION PROTECTION
I
'jEApLL
BULKHE2J PROTECTIVE BEACH
(with or without restoration)

IREVETMENT1 SAND DUNE
I I
BEACH NOURISHMENT REVE MEN7T
(with or without restoration)

GR INS 1BULKHEADI

SAND BYPASSING CONSIDERATIONS:
AT INLET
Hydraulics
Sedimentation
CONSIDERATIONS: Control Structure
Legal
Hydraulics Environmental
Sedimentation Economics
Control Structure
Legal
Environmental
Economics

Figure 31. Some commonly used methods for controlling beach erosion (modi-
fied after U.S. Army Coastal Engineering Research Center, 1973).

131

TABLE 7

Coastal structure definitions [revised from Coastal Engineering Research
Center (1973) with additions; from Kana et al. (1980), Table 7].

BREAKWATER A structure protecting a shore area, harbor, anchor-
age, or basin from waves.

BULKHEAD A structure or partition to retain or prevent sliding
of the land. Generally used in areas of quiet water.

GABION Wire cages, filled with loose stone, tied together in
an orderly arrangement to construct seawall, groins,
or other shore-protection structures.

GROIN A structure built to trap littoral drift or retard
erosion, generally placed perpendicular to shore.
Generally not associated with inlets.

JETTY A structure extending into water,designed to prevent
channel shoaling and direct flow. Generally associ-
ated with inlets.

PIER A structure usually of open construction serving as a
landing place.

REVETMENT A facing of stone, concrete, etc., built to protect a
scarp, embankment, or shore structure against erosion
by wave action or currents.

REVETTED SEAWALL Generally a seawall which is protected on the seaward
side by a revetment of stones.

ROCK CRIB A cage of wire and pipe or wood, f illed with gravel
and used for shore protection.

SEAWALL A structure separating land and water areas, designed
to prevent erosion by keeping waves and wave over-
topping from reaching the land behind the wall.

132

4d )w
VIA

.... @4.

T
FITT,

77 ilk-

'p
P1

A-

Figure 32. Examples of shore-protection structures at Lake Ontario, U.S.
(from Kana et al., 1980). [Upper] Wood bulkhead composed of horizontally
laid railroad ties (Sodus Bay). [Lower] Composite structure composed of
concrete slab built on concrete-filled oil drums (Henderson Bay).

133

LM-

Figure 33. Examples of shore-protection structures at Lake Ontario, U.S.
(from Kana et al., 1980). [Upper] Revetted gabion seawall (near Roches-
ter). [Lower] Revetted concrete groin at Hamlin Beach State Park. Sedi-
ment transport is right to left.

134

the wall is lost. A bulkhead is made of pilings, composed of a wide range
of materials (Figure 32 upper), driven into the ground. They are usually
built in areas of moderate waves. Revetments (Figure 32 lower) are con-
structed by armoring the sloping face of a dune or bluff with one or more
layers of rock, concrete, or asphalt (U.S. Army Coastal Engineering Re-
search Center, 1973). The armor stones of revetments tend to dissipate

waves and inhibit reflection better than vertical walls, thus sand removal

by wave reflection is not as severe.

4.2.3 Groins

Groins are structures built to slow down longshore transport of sand by
blocking its passage at a given location. They consist of fingerlike pro-
jections of hard material perpendicular to the beach (example in Figure 33
lower). They are commonly made of rubble stone, but they may consist of
wood, sand bags, gabions (rocks or pebbles in wire mesh) (Figure 33 upper),
or other materials. They work best where waves approach the coast oblique-
ly. Erosion may occur downdrift of groins, necessitating the construction
of a series of them (groin field). Groins have not proved to be effective
solutions to beach erosion in many localities, although they have been used

in abundance.

4.2.4 Offshore Breakwaters

Offshore breakwaters are short structures detached from the shore and

placed normal or nearly so to the direction of the incoming waves. These
structures reduce wave energy on their landward side, which causes buildup
of the beach by deposition of littoral drift. These structures can be ei-
ther above the high-water level or submerged. The submerged breakwater
causes waves to break prematurely, thus reducing the wave energy. However,
because of the beach buildup in the zone of its immediate influence, the
erosion on the downdrift side of the offshore breakwaters may continue or
even be accelerated. Some sand generally passes on through the system.
Offshore breakwaters have been used successfully to curtail erosion in
a number of areas. A detached breakwater was constructed in 1878 at Ceara,
Brazil, which extended about 430 m parallel to the coast. The longshore

drift there is from east to west. The construction of the breakwater

135

caused a tongue of sand to grow outward from the shore until it finally
reached the breakwater. A 600-m-long, detached breakwater was constructed
about 600 m offshore at Santa Monica, California, in 1934. Immediately
thereafter, sand began to accumulate on the protected lee of the breakwa-
ter, although erosion did occur further downcoast. Breakwaters are common

around the shoreline of Japan, where they are considered to be the best so-
lution to beach erosion (discussed in detail below).

4.3 "Soft" Engineering Solutions

4.3.1 Introduction
There are many workers in the area of coastal erosion, particularly geol-
ogists, who prefer to use solutions to erosion problems that do not involve
hard structures (Concerned Coastal Geologists, 1981). Two lines of
reasoning are used to support this position:
1) Hard structures such as seawalls accelerate sand losses.
2) Once in place, hard structures are difficult to remove, making it vir-
tually impossible to correct a mistake.
Some examples of alternative "soft" solutions are given below.

4.3.2 Setback Lines

The "softest" of the soft solutions is the construction of a line behind

the shoreline seaward of which building is prohibited. These lines are
called setback lines. They work best in areas that have not been developed
as yet. The best-known example of legislation concerning the construction

of setback lines on the basis of scientific considerations is a 1971 law of

the State of Florida, U.S. (section 161.053, F.S.). This setback regula-
tion is discussed by Purpura (1979) and Murday and Asherman (1981).
The criteria which are usually applied in the establishment of coastal
setback lines include the following (from Murday and Asherman, 1981):
1) Erosion rates. Historical maps and charts are studied to determine
rates of change, and a line is established based on the predicted life
of the project (e.g., 50 years).
2) Dune protection. The line is established to protect a foredune barrier.
3) Flood hazard. A line is drawn based on flooding levels (e.g., 100-year
flood).

136

4) Wave uprush. Several computerized prediction techniques have been de-
veloped to determine a level of uprush of severe storm waves. Construc-
tion is prohibited seaward of this level.
5) Ground contours. Elevations are chosen for construction, basically for
protection from storm flooding.
6) Vegetation type. Lines are drawn based on vegetation types that have
required a number of years to become established, such as a climax mar-
itime forest or mature dune vegetation.

4.3.3 Sand-Bypassing
Jetties constructed to stabilize navigational channels usually block the
flow of littoral drift. Consequently, severe erosion may develop on the
downdrift side of the jetties. This is one of the more common causes of
erosion problems around the world. Erosion downdrift of the jetties at the
ports of Lom4, Togo, and Cotonou, Benin, on the coast of West Africa are
notable examples. This problem is solved by installing mechanical sand-
bypassing systems. The most commonly used methods of mechanical transfer
are land-based dredging plants, floating plants, and land-based vehicles
(Chestnutt, 1982; Watts, 1966).

4.3.4 Beach Nourishment

Beach renourishment with sand is the most commonly used soft solution.
Kana (1983) classified these projects as those deriving sand from either
external or internal sources. Many projects have been implemented on the
coast of North America that utilize external sand sources. Projects at
Miami Beach (Florida), Wrightsville Beach (North Carolina), and Rockaway
Beach (New York) involved moving millions of cubic meters of sand. Sand
for such projects may come from a variety of sources, including (1) conti-
nental shelf, (2) tidal deltas at tidal inlets, (3) trucked in from borrow
sites on the mainland, and (4) dredge spoil from waterways and canals.
This method of beach erosion control is discussed in detail in U.S. Army
Coastal Engineering Research Center (1973). Kana (1983) emphasized the
cost-effectiveness of deriving sand from local (internal) sources and
moving it with land-based equipment. Sources of such sand include (1)

137

attached shoals adjacent to tidal inlets and (2) laterally adjacent zones

of accretion.

The major objection to beach renourishment schemes is that they are
not permanent. Watching millions of dollars worth of sand wash away within
a few years of its emplacement does not appeal to some money-conscious
planners, who feel more secure with hard structures. Such projects require
a careful analysis of monetary costs and benefits balanced against the aes-
thetic and recreational value of maintaining a sand beach in place.

4.3.5 Design with Nature
The trend of the future in beach erosion control is to attempt to mimic the
natural system. Two examples of this approach include the construction of
artificial crenulate bays (Silvester, 1974) and relocation of migrating
tidal inlets (discussed below under case study on South Carolina coast).
Silvester's (1974) approach is based on the recognition of natural spiral
bay systems (crenulate bays) on shorelines with rocky headlands subject to
oblique wave approach (Figure 34). On such coasts, a bay beach with a log-
spiral shape develops downdrift of the protruding headland. Through a pro-
cess of wave refraction, sketched in Figure 35, the bay beach develops an
equilibrium f orm. Silvester has proposed the construction of offshore
breakwaters which mimic natural headlands so that equilibrium beaches may
develop on their downdrift sides. In some cases, renourished sand may be
placed in the lee of the breakwaters to aid in the development of the equi-
librium beach. Renourished sand would have a much longer residence time in
such embayments than if it were placed on an open beach. A sketch of a
shore-protection system of this type, which combines both hard and soft so-
lutions, is given in-Figure 36.

138

ALFRED
CPORT ELIZABETH
3S)CAPE ST FRANCIS

CAPE SEAL
CAPE ST. BLAIZE

2
APEINFANTA

CAPE AGULHAS

SOUTH AFRICA

0 AST LONDON
2
M 3

PORT ELIZABETH
CAPETOWN GEORGE
/DIRECT,ION OF
PREDOM NANT SWELL

Figure 34. Examples of natural crenulate bays on the coast of South Africa
(modified after Silvester, 1974, Figure 2-1).
AFRIC@A
EAST LONDON
@2 3
PORT ELIZABETH
CAPETOW@N

139

EOUILIBRIUM SHAPE ORTHOGONALS
PERSISTENT SWELL
FOR DIFFRACTION ONLY BAY SHAPE FOR
DIF CTI N AND
REFRACTION

TAN EN
PO T

Figure 35. Schematic plan of crenulate bay showing the influence of wave
refraction on the shape of the bay (from Silvester, 1974, Figure 2-2).

'DO
BREAKWATER

D....

Figure 36. Sketch of beach protection scheme which involves (1) construc-
tion of offshore breakwaters and (2) emplacement of sand. The stable
crenulate shape forms'under oblique waveapproach from the left. Based on
ideas expressed by Silvester (1974).

140

5. GENERAL CASE STUDIES

5.1 Introduction

In order to be more specific about the problem of beach erosion around the

world, a series of case studies have been chosen for discussion. First,

erosion in a more regional context will be discussed, starting with a sum-
mary on erosion on the Russian shoreline and concluding with a discussion
of beach erosion in Florida (U.S.). Five site-specific case studies will
be presented in section 6. The intent of the case studies is to summarize
lessons learned and develop guidelines for applications in developing coun-

tries.

5.2 Beach Erosion in Russia
The shoreline of Russia exceeds 100,000 km in length (counting islands;
Zenkovich, 1982b) and rivals any in the world f or complexity. Dramatic
rates of erosion prevail in some areas, such as the eastern shore of the
White Sea (5 m/yr) and the permafrost lowland of the western Kara Sea (7-8
m/yr). Only the developed shorelines of the Black Sea (including Sea of
Azov) and Caspian Sea have been of much concern to engineers, however.
Zenkovich (1982a) outlined some of the methods used to curtail beach

erosion in Russia. Seawalls have met with the same fate in Russia as

elsewhere. Examples of failed walls which front pebble beaches are numer-
ous (Figure 37). Breakwaters are widespread on the coast of the Black Sea.
They are commonly connected to the mainland by concrete traverses to pre-
vent scour by longshore currents. Beach renourishment projects on several
bays of the Black Sea and Sea of Azov have been successful and economically
justified (Alibulatov and Pogodin, 1974). On the clayey coast at Odessa, a
10-km-long groin field which has submerged breakwaters between groin heads
has been constructed. Sand hauled from 30 km away was placed between the
groins. According to Dodin and Ponomarenko (1972; cited by Zenkovich,
1982a), only about 5 percent of the nourished sand was lost over a 7-year
period. Long-range plans that call f or changing responses through time
have been proposed for the coasts of the Baltic and Black Seas by Zenkovich
and Kiknadge (1981). The valuable experiences gained in Russia during the
past few decades, particularly from the works on the Black Sea coast, add
significantly to the understanding of beach erosion problems elsewhere.

141

lob

Figure 37. Erosion of seawall at Kilkhida on the southeastern Black Sea
coast (sketched from photograph in Zenkovich, 1982b, Figure 11).

The principal lesson learned is that detailed assessment is required to
deal adequately with beach erosion problems.

5.3 Beach Erosion in Japan

Few other countries in the world are so closely tied to their coastline as
Japan, from both economical and social points of view. Japan's compara-
tively small land area of 380,000 kM2 is circumscribed by 33,800 km of
coastline (Watanabe and Horikawa, 1983," p. 186). These coastal areas are
subject to frequent attack by typhoons (high waves and storm surges) and
tsunamis. Figure 38 outlines the different hazards along the Japanese

coast.

142

SANDY BEACH
AAAA SEVERELY ERODED COAST
TSUNAMI
...... SEVERELY SUBSIDED ZONE
CRUSTAL MOVEMENT ZONE
AV I WINTER MONSOON

TOKYO

0 100 200 300 KM

Figure 38. Outline of the different hazards to the coastline of Japan
(after Watanabe and Horikawa, 1983, Figure 1).

143

According to Watanabe and Horikawa (1983), erosion of the coast of
Japan has been a problem for only the past few decades. In fact, most of
the erosion problems in Japan can be related to two forms of engineering
activities by man:
1) Reduction of sediment supply to beaches by construction of dams and di-
version channels and by mining of river sediment. Figures 39 and 40
clearly illustrate the relationship of dams on the Tenryu River to
shoreline recession adjacent to the river mouth.
2) Interception of longshore transport by man-made structures at the coast.
Beach erosion in Japan has accelerated so rapidly over the past 40
years that now one-half of its coastline (15,000 km) is protected by

man-made structures.

,D-[]-O

SAKUMA DAM

VOLUME OF
DREDGED AGGREGATE
WIN ,ArA-
@AIKIBA
107 DAM

UJ VOLUME OF
2 BED DEGRADATION
0
W
U)
LL
0
W

0 6
> 10

1955 1960 1965 1970
YEAR

Figure 39. Sediment accumulation behind the dams built on the Tenryu
f@VOLU4MEO
1@
A

River, Japan (from Watanabe and Horikawa, 1983, Figure 2).

144

50
WEST COAST OF TENRYU R.

* NO. 141-143
* NO. 149-151
*NO. 157 - 159

-50-
0

'A -A
LU
.100
Z
2 %A

0
j
Uj
Z
D -150
LU I
cc
0 A
x A
(n 'A A@n A

-200
1960 1965 1970 1975
YEAR

Figure 40. Shoreline recession west of the mouth of the Tenryu River,
Japan (from Watanabe and Horikawa, 1983, Figure 10). This recession corre-
lates directly with the trapping of sediments behind dams on the river
(Figure 39).

A discussion of several case studies in Japan by Watanabe and Horikawa
(1983) revealed the following chronology of events for any given erosional
segment of the Japanese coast:
1) No problem perceived (prior to mid-1900s).
2) Interference with sediment supply by man-made structures such as dams or

diversion channels.

3) Erosion recognized; seawalls, groins, and other hard structures estab-

lished.

4) Structures damaged severely during typhoon or tsunami.
5) Structures continually replaced or made stronger after storms.
6) Finally, a series of detached, offshore breakwaters established.

145

The loss of the seawalls was usually due to scour at their toes and/or
wave overtopping (Figure 41). Groins were also quite unsuccessful, as
noted by Watanabe and Horikawa (1983, p. 192):

It is rather difficult to give an example of a groin system which func-
tioned positively without producing some adverse effect as well.

0 0 20 30 40 50%

EROSION/SCOURING/SUCTION

WAVE FORCE/OVERTOPPING

SUPERANNUATED

SINKING OF FOOT PROTECTION BLOCKS

BEACH EROSION SINGLE CAUSE
EARTHQUAKE

OTHERS

Figure 41. Causes of destruction of coastal dikes and seawalls in Japan
(from Watanabe and Horikawa, 1983, Figure 14).

In the past few years, the Ministry of Construction has turned almost
exclusively to coastal dikes and detached, offshore breakwaters for solu-
tions to their erosion problems, as seen in Figure 42. An example of a de-
tached offshore breakwater is shown in Figure 43. These structures, which
were originally built strictly for shore protection, had the happy side ef-
fect of producing tombolos of sand in their lee, thus providing recrea-

tional beaches.
In their summary, Watanabe and Horikawa (1983) noted the change from
hard to more soft solutions in Japan over the past few years, concluding
that this change was due in part to public demand for recreational beaches.
Their final words of summary, based on perhaps the world's most concen-
trated effort to stop beach erosion, follow (p. 193):

We have learned that even works executed for coastal protection some-
times accelerate severe beach erosion. It should be deeply engraved in
our minds that any development project must be examined from a broad
view of both positive effects and negative results.

146

100-

@001
W
COASTAL DIKE

X
Cn
-J 50-
4 , -'Z:@
z
z
,SEAWAI @L'
DETACHED BREAKWATER
0 1960 1@65 19'70 1@75

GROIN

Figure 42. Types of coastal structures built by the Ministry of Construc-
tion in Japan (by fiscal year). Note the shift to detached offshore break-
waters over the past 10 years (from Watanabe and Horikawa, 1983, Figure
13).

1968 1966 1967 1968
102M 60M 397M 50M 320M 90M 206M

A D

0
10 15 2 25 30 35 40

Figure 43. Detached offshore breakwaters on the Kin-eicho coast,
Niigata, Japan. Note the accumulation of sand in the lee of the break-
waters (from Watanabe and Horikawa, 1983, Figure 15).
55 [email protected]

147

5.4 Beach Erosion in Sri Lanka

About 80 percent of the shoreline of Sri Lanka is natural sandy beaches,
one of the nation's most vital resources. Crowding and unwise engineering
and mining practices have induced severe erosion problems in some parts of
the coast, particularly the southwestern sector.
The general setting of the country with regard to coastal processes is
depicted in Figure 44. The southwest monsoon, which occurs between May and
September, generates considerably larger waves (mean significant height 5
f t) than the weaker northeast monsoon (mean signif icant height = 3 f 0
which occurs between November and January. The most severe coastal erosion
in the country occurs on the southwestern coast, which is impacted by the
largest waves. Long-term erosion also occurs on the northeastern coast.
Deposition prevails on the southeastern and northern shorelines, both of
which are zones of accretion for the sediment transported away from the two
exposed, eroding areas.
Beach erosion in Sri Lanka was related to three principal causes by
Gerritson and Amarasinghe (1976): (1) natural processes, (2) man-induced
changes, and (3) biological activity. The major natural causes were
monsoon-generated waves (discussed above) and migration of tidal inlets.
An example of a migrating tidal inlet, or river mouth, is shown in Figure
45. This inlet, located at Kalutara on the southwestern coast, had mi-
grated fully between the 1920s and 1970s. However, southerly migration
threatened a hotel that had been built on the south spit in 1973. A com-
bination of boulder groins and rubble revetments were constructed in 1976
in an attempt to hold the inlet in place.
Man's negative activity with regard to beach erosion in Sri Lanka has
occurred in the following ways:
1) Mining of sand and coral from the coastal zone.
2) Building training works and fishery harbors that impair longshore sedi-

ment transport.
3) Construction of groins and seawalls that adversely affect neighboring

areas.

148

D EPos,;@.
,OZ

0
0
N.E. MONSOON

25 0 25
KM 67M/50YRS.
TRINCOMALEE 00
@01
0

SRILANKA

59M/65YRS.
EROSION 113M/50YRS.

DEPOSITION
LITTORAL COLOMBO
TRANSPORT 18M, 65YRS.

I'm 304M/50YRS.
'J3
0
0 1108M/50YRS.
aw
N
S.W MONSOO

Figure 44. Coastal processes and beach erosional/depositional trends in
Sri Lanka. From Figure 4 and and descriptions in Gerritson and Amarasinghe
(1976).

149

............
... ......... .0
C,
10A

BRIDGES

TARA INLE7'
INLET
y
J. 'A U
Y, \3
SEA

SEA

1921
-.-.1931 1943
1943 ......... 1970
1976
PROPOSED
HOTEL ',",\@\HOTEL GROINS
i@@ LOCATION
GROINS

RAILROAD
RAILROAD ENTRANCE To
R PROPOSED
PROPOSED
FISHERY
HARBOR CHANNEL

k
A 1 1000 0 1000

FEET

Figure 45.- Migration pattern of Kalutara Inlet, Sri Lanka (from Gerritson
and Amarasinghe, 1976, Figure 5).

150

The principal biological reason for erosion is the destruction of some
of the reefs in the Trincomalee area by the coral-eating starfish
Acanthastar planci.
Gerritson and Amarasinghe (1976) emphasized the need for a coastal
area management plan for Sri Lanka. From the scientific standpoint, the
erosion problem could be solved with adequate study, but related social
problems are much more difficult to deal with. For example, hundreds of

thousands of cubic meters of coral are mined from the coastal zone of Sri

Lanka each year. If this practice were stopped, erosion would be abated;
however, 20,000 people would no longer have a livelihood.

5.5 Beach Erosion in Florida (U.S.)
The beaches of the State of Florida are the most popular in the United
States, because of the combination of abundant natural sand and warm tem-

peratures. But, as in many other parts of the world, beach erosion is
taking its toll (Figure 46). A study conducted by the U.S. Army Corps of
Engineers (1971) found over 200 miles of the Florida shoreline to be in a
11critical state of erosion."

Walton (1979) listed the following general causes for beach erosion in

Florida:

1) Sea-level rise. As indicated in Figure 47, sea level is presently ris-
ing at the average annual rate of 3.3 mm in Florida.
2) Erosion during hurricanes. The coast is struck by a major hurricane
every few years, which erodes the dunes, overwashes the barriers, and
moves beach sand to offshore depths so great it cannot be returned to
the beach. Dune erosion during Hurricane ELOISE (1977) is illustrated
in Figure 48.
3) Modification of tidal inlets. The State of Florida has 57 tidal inlets
along its shore, many of which have been deepened and/or jettied. A
deepened inlet robs sand from the littoral drift system,and jettied in-
lets without bypass systems tend to cause erosion on their downdrift

sides.
After reviewing the erosional conditions of Florida's beaches, Walton
(1979, p. 10) reached a pessimistic conclusion:

151

In all, the picture is not a pleasing one. Erosion is with us to stay
due to rising sea level and our needs for improved navigation in our
coastal zone.

GEORGIA

FERNANDINA
ST MARYS RIVER
FLORIDA JACKSONVILLE
ST. ANDREWS ST AUGUSTINE INLET
N 0 MATANZAS INLET
INLET
APALACHICOLA O'@
DAYTONA

PONCE DE LEON INLET

CAPE CANAVERAL

CLEARWATER 'T
'NLE
BLIND 'S SEBASTIAN INLET
PAS
PASS-A-GRIME FT PIERCE INLET
ANNA MARIA KE LONGBOAT PASS
LIDO KEY BIG PASS ST LUCIE INLET
VENICE INLET JUPITER ISLAND

CATFISH PA PALM BEACH INLET
SS
CAPTIVA ISL ND EVERGLADES BOCA RATON INLET
DEERFIELD
GORDON PASS PT EVERGLADES INLET
NAPLES BAKERS HAULOVER INLET
MANGROVE MIAMI

SWAMP

KEY WEST

ANNUAL SHORELINE RECESSION
=
20 FT PLUS
10-20FT so 0 50
@ 5-10FT
M 3-5 FT. KM
0 1-3 FT.
e0-1FT

Figure 46. Erosion on the Florida shoreline during 1963 (from Walton,
1979, Figure 7).

152

JACKSONVILLE, FLA

V
20- MIAMI BEACH,
FLA.

15-

PENSACOLA, FLA.
10-
LU

U
5

01
1910 1920 1930 1940 1950 1960 1970
TIME [YEARS1

Figure 47. Relative rise of sea level in Florida between 1925 and 1970.
The average of all stations is 3.3 mm/yr (after Hicks, 1973, from Walton,
1979, Figure 1).

2d- ERODED AREA
El EROSION
PRESTORM PROFILE 17-77.1
z 10,13.5' U ACCRETION
0 OLD VEG. LINE VELEV.
POST-
STORM 3'- 5'
PROFILE 3 '
LU 83' DEPOSITION AREA
...... ........
. . . . . . MSL
. .......... .
0.

_5'_ 100, 200' 300' 400'

DISTANCE

Figure 48. Results of dune erosion near Panama City, Florida, during Hur-
ricane ELOISE (1977) (after Chiu and Purpura, 1977; from Walton, 1979,
1 OJ@AWr

Figure 4).

153

6. SPECIFIC CASE STUDIES

6.1 Introduction

This section, in contrast to section 5, concentrates on specific, local

areas. Section 5 presented a general picture of erosion in large areas.
This section is probably the most important part of the discussion, because
all lessons learned regarding beach erosion have been derived through pain-

ful trial and error at the local level.

These case studies are taken from the literature, and they represent
the best judgments of the authors who have written them. A word of caution
is in order, however, because given enough time, conditions may change from
those described in these papers. For example, in reading Hale's (1977)
discussion of beach erosion in Los Angeles County, California (U.S.), one
gets the impression that beach erosion is nonexistent in the county. He
implies that the county's survey methods, which were used for over 12 years
to check hundreds of structure designs and to design "numerous structures,"
were foolproof. "We have not had one single failure," he states on page
460. Unfortunately, massive storms in the winter of 1982-1983 devastated
the beaches and share-protection structures of Los Angeles County and other

areas of southern California.

6.2 Erosion in Togo and Benin

6.2.1 Introduction

Shoreline erosion in Togo and Benin, West Africa (Figure 49), is so acute
that the two countries requested that the United Nations (UNEP) initiate a
program to study the problem. A UNEP-sponsored workshop held in the two
countries on 29 January-9 February 1979 provides a basis for this discus-
sion. The working technical group consisted of 33 expert engineers and
technicians from Togo and Benin as well as nine experts from four other

countries. The writer of this document was the convener of the outside

technical group.

6.2.2 Present Situation

The present state of erosion and deposition on the shoreline of the two
countries is shown in Figure 50. The key elements in the problem are the

154

AFRICA

TOGO BENIN

UPPER VOLTA

BENIN

GHANA NIGERIA

TOGO 0 100 200
KM
COTONO
LOME

OF GUINEA
r
.,ULr

Figure 49. General location map for Togo and Benin.
UPPER VOLTA
@GHANAtNIGERIA
TOGO 0 '0. 21
KM
LOJMi COTONO 7

155

Z
< LAGOON
L) ANEHO GRAND POPO COTONOU SIAFATO
E:
0

LOMi
C=:> =>

LITTORAL TRANSPORT
ZONE OF CONTINUAL EROSION
DOMINANT INTERMITTENT EROSION
WAVE AND NATURAL INSTABILITY
APPROACH SEDIMENTATION

Figure 50. Present conditions on the coasts of Togo and Benin. Note the
major role played by the ports in beach erosion in the two areas (from U.N.
Technical Group, 1979).

construction of deep-water ports at Lom6, Togo, in 1966, and Cotonou,
Benin, in 1963. The jetties of these ports interrupt the longshore trans-
port of sand, one of the strongest in the world (greater than 1,000,000
M3/yr; NEDECO, 1978). Transport is from west to east almost every day of
the year due to the influence of waves arriving at an oblique angle to the
shore from the southwest. No sand-bypass systems have been installed at
either harbor entrance, so erosion has become a serious problem downdrift

of both harbors.
The jetties at Lom6 provide a classic case study of man's impact on
beaches. The shoreline updrift (west) of the jetties is building out in
excess of 50 m/yr, whereas downdrift the beaches are receding at rates up
to 8 m/yr. Local outcrops of beachrock slow the erosion rate on the down-
drift side. In the erosion zone, many fishing villages have been abandoned
and a major tourist hotel is threatened.
East of the erosion zone, extending to Aneho (Figure 50), the coast-
line is subjected to periodic erosional episodes. This is due to seasonal
beach evolution and perhaps local zones of higher wave energy because of
offshore bathymetric variations. The inlet area near Aneho is naturally
unstable due to fluctuations in inlet position and morphology.
@ @COTONOUSIAFATO,

T
I'VE
PROACH

156

The area of Grand Popo, Benin, is another area influenced by inlet mi-
grations. The shoreline is evidently undergoing long-term erosion, but the
data are not precise. Many dwellings and other important structures and

relicts have been lost.
The erosional/depositional patterns at the jetties at Cotonou, Benin,
mimic those described for Lom6, Togo. West of the port, the beach has
built out 700 m since construction of the jetties (U.N. Technical Group,
1979). The area just east of the jetties is complicated because of the
presence of a dam and some groins, but a huge erosional crenulate bay has
formed east of the last groin. A maximum of 250 m of erosion has occurred
in the middle of the bay, which is located approximately 1,000 m east of the
jetties. Many villages have been moved and an industrial zone is threat-
ened in this zone. The rest of the coast of Benin is relatively stable.

6.2.3 Other Causes of Erosion

The experts who studied the erosion in Togo and Benin (U.N. Technical
Group, 1979) recognized that some of the erosion in the area could be

related to causes other than construction of the two harbors. Some of

these include:

1) Natural Causes
a) Gradual rise in sea level.
b) Periods of high wave activity, particularly between May and August.
Significant wave heights are on the order of 1.3-1.4 m (NEDECO,
1978).
c) A possible decrease in sediment supply due to a recent drying trend
and subsequent reduced river discharge.
d) Local variations in large-scale beach topography (i.e., rhythmic to-
pography) and offshore bathymetry.
2) Man-Influenced Causes
a) Dams on rivers. It was suggested that sediment supply might have
been reduced by the construction of the Alcosombo dam on the Volta

River in Ghana.

b) Sand mining. This is a common practice in both countries. It is es-
timated that 200,000 m 3/yr are mined from the updrift side of the
jetties in Lomd.

157

6.2.4 Suggested Solutions
After ten days of evaluating the problem, the group of experts, relying
heavily on data supplied by NEDECO (1978), formulated several options for
dealing with specific erosion problems in the two countries. Some of these
recommendations are outlined on the map in Figure 51.

GRAND POPO RENOURISHMENT
ANEHO COTONOU SIAFATO
RELOCATION OF ROAD SET BACK LINE

LOME

GRAND POPO
TROPICANA STABILIZATION
RECHARGEMENT & MANAGEMENT
DETAILED BATHYMETRY OF INLET
SAND TRANSFER
106M'/YEAR
ZONES OF MORPHOLOGICAL STUDIES

Figure 51. Some suggestions for dealing with the erosion problems on the
coasts of Togo and Benin (from U.N. Technical Group, 1979).

The most obvious solution to the major problem in both areas, erosion
downdrift of the jetties, would be to bypass sand at both harbors. The
volume required would be on the order of one million cubic meters per year
at each harbor. In view of the huge costs involved, many millions of dol-
lars for each project, alternative solutions were sought.
The experts could not agree entirely on how to deal with the general
erosion downdrift of the harbor at Lom6 in the absence of a bypass system.

Three alternatives were offered:

1) Establish setback line and treat isolated problems on a case-by-case

basis.

2) Establish setback line and build a series of short groins to slow down

erosion.

3) Pump quantities of sand (volume dictated by economics) onto the beaches

where maximum erosion is occurring.

158

The specific problem at the tourist hotel would be solved by building a
series of groins in front of the hotel. A more complete solution would in-
volve some form of beach nourishment after construction of the groins.
A series of groins were also recommended for the protection of the
town of Grand Popo, Benin. Concern was expressed about the stability of
the inlet,and a detailed study of the coastal hydrodynamics of the area was
suggested.
The solution to the problem of the eroded crenulate bay downdrift of
the harbor at Cotonou was another area of disagreement among the experts.
A laboratory model demonstrating the development of this crenulate bay is
shown in Figure 29. There was considerable disagreement among the experts
regarding the continued erosion of the bay, some saying it would become
stable and others predicting it would continue to erode. Three alternative

solutions were offered:

1) Establish a monitoring program and construct appropriate setback lines.
2) Establish setback lines and reinforce the deteriorating groin at the
head of the embayment.
3) Build another groin on the eastern end of the embayment so an equilib-
rium planform can develop.
Several suggestions relative to scientific and educational aspects of
the erosion problems in the two countries were made during the discussions.
Of particular concern was the recognition that the problems go beyond the
borders of the two countries and, in fact, affect the whole of the West
African coast. The following recommendations resulted from this concern:
1) A study should be initiated to synthesize and summarize all consultant
reports related to coastal processes in the area. The summary should
pinpoint critical data gaps. Furthermore, it was recommended that fu-
ture contracts awarded to consultants require enough copies of the final
reports- to allow distribution among the concerned countries and, fur-
ther, that these reports include complete and annotated reference lists.
2) A second study, involving fieldwork, if necessary, should be initiated
to fill the data gaps identified by the aforementioned study.
3) A regional sand budget study should be carried out. This would include
an analysis of specific sources of the sand, synthesize existing data

159

(and collect new data where necessary) on longshore sand transport
rates, and identify sand sinks.
These suggestions on research and education are important because as
more and more case studies are examined, it becomes clear that many of the
erosion problems that now exist around the world have arisen because of
man's interference with the natural system. If there had been a require-
ment for functional sand-bypass systems to be built during the construc-
tional phases of the ports at Togo and Benin, most of the erosion problems
that now plague both countries would have been avoided. A sound prelimi-
nary study would have recognized this need, and prudent planners would have
required it.

6.3 Beach Protection at Lorain, Ohio (U.S.)

6.3.1 Introduction

Much of the preceding discussion of case studies has been negative regard-
ing beach erosion and man's role in it. A more optimistic report is pos-
sible for this case study of a beach restoration project on Lake Erie at
Lorain, Ohio (U.S.).
In October 1977, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers constructed three
segmented breakwaters and placed beach fill behind them at a public park,
Lakewood Park, in Lorain. This was only the second project ever carried

out on the shoreline of the United States which used offshore breakwaters,
although they are fairly common in other areas, notably Japan (discussed
above). It has been a remarkably successful project, from both engineering
and social points of view, in that the erosion problem was solved and rec-

reational beaches were created in the process.

6.3.2 The Project
This project was constructed to serve two purposes: (1) protection of ex-
isting park facilities and the adjacent lake bluff, and (2) creation of a
public recreational beach. The components of the project, which are il-
lustrated in Figures 52 and 53, consist of the following features (Pope and
Rowen, 1983, p. 757):

160

ism

Figure 52. Sketch from oblique aerial photograph of Lakeview Park, Lorain,
Ohio. View looks east (from photograph in Pope and Rowen, 1983).

161

K R E

DETACHED 160' 250'
BREAKWATERS

558

BEACH EAST GROIN
SAND TOE 17
I/ WATER EDGE FILL 0
AT L.W. D.
WEST
GROIN `568-6 '0
Ln
576.6' BEACH ERM M
+8 L. F D.
F -BASE LINE
0 0
0 0 0 0
V) T____00 0
Be TVE
H U
CA U)

NOTE: 100 0 100 200 FEET
L.W.D. 586.6
STA. IN 100ANCREMENTS 30 0 30 60 METERS

Figure 53. Outline of the principal components of the beach protection
project at Lakeview Park, Lorain, Ohio (from Pope and Rowarl, 1983).

1) Three 76-m rubblemound breakwaters segmented by 49-m gaps.
2) Two end groins; 46-m concrete groin on west and 107-m composite rubble-
mound and concrete groin on east.
3) Initial placement of 84,106 M3 of sand with a median size of 0.5 mm be-
tween the end groins.
4) Periodic beach nourishment of 3,800 M3 /yr to replace a predicted annual
loss of 5 percent of original fill.

6.3.3 Monitoring Program
This project was monitored closely for the 5-year period of 1977-1982. Se-
quential aerial photography showed an areal readjustment of the sand, with
the beaches on the exposed, western end of the project being narrower than
those on the sheltered, eastern end (see Figure 52). Bathymetric and topo-
GR
0 1 N@,, -C
U

162

graphic surveys carried out in the spring and fall of each year showed the
following:
1) The slope of the shoreface diminished in the first six months.
2) The project has gained 2,200 m 3 of sand per year from the natural drift

system.
3) The two additional beach renourishments totaling 6,900 m 3, added in 1980
and 1981, were not actually needed.
Several process-oriented studies including wave-gage measurements,
near daily field measurements of wave conditions, current studies, and a
model study, kept the engineers abreast of the seasonal changes of the
shoreline. Detailed sediment sampling and analysis showed that native sand
was being added to the project area from the east, at the rate of about
15,000 m3/yr. Approximately 12,800 M3 of sand passed out of the system to
the east, so the zone sheltered by the breakwaters was accreting. The fact
that some of the sand passed through was thought to represent an advantage
of the detached breakwaters in comparison with groins or jetties.

6.3.4 Conclusion

A beach restoration project that lasts five years is unique, but one that
gains sand is a revelation. Much of the success of this project is owed to
the careful planning involved, as evidenced by the detailed monitoring
program. Also, no shortcuts were taken nor costs spared in assuring that
the project would work.
Pope and Rowen (1983, p. 767) made the following conclusion about the

project:

Lakeview Park Beach is a highly successful man-made recreational beach,
not only technically, but also economically and socially . . . it has
become one of the most popular and heavily used public beaches along
the Ohio shoreline, providing the city of Lorain with a major recrea-
tional asset.

6.4 Erosion at the Muara Port Area, Brunei

Muara Port is the only deep-water port on the coast of Brunei, which is
situated on the northern side of the island of Borneo. A natural harbor

exists at Muara, but its exit to the South China Sea is too shallow and too

163

prone to siltation to make a good navigation channel. Consequently, an
approach channel was cut directly across Pelompong Spit to the open ocean
in 1969 (Figure 54). The spit protrudes to the east across the natural
channel (Anson Passage) as a result of a dominant wave approach from the
west, particularly during the southwest monsoon. A typical swell refrac-
tion pattern for the area is shown in Figure 54. Sand transport along the
spit is estimated to be 100,000 m 3/yr. The easterly growth of Pelompong
Spit is reflected by the orientation of prograding beach ridges on the
spit, shown in Figure 55. The growth rate was determined by Goh et al.
(1983) to be 27 m/yr between 1888 and 1956 and 76 m/yr between 1956 and
1976. Six maps of the island, dating from 1888 to 1980, are given in
Figure 56.
Several problems have developed since the construction of the approach
channel in 1969, as might be expected for a structure built so contrary to
the forces of nature. The major problems cited by Goh et al. (1983) fol-

low:

1) Land erosion south of the east jetty.
2) Scour problem at seaward end of east jetty.
3) Seabed scour at the approach channel.
4) Potential instability of the west jetty.
5) Shoaling at the entrance to the approach channel.
6) Siltation in the inner harbor.

7) Erosion of the beach east of the channel.
Only erosion of the beach east of the navigational channel (problem 7)
will be discussed here. The width of the spit east of the channel de-
creased from 375 m in 1969 to 80 m in 1980, as a result of the complete
stoppage of the sand supply by the new navigation channel. The possibility
of a breach of the spit as it continues to erode is cause for much concern,
because of the following probabilities:
1) The flow velocity of the channel would drop and siltation would in-

crease.

2) Waves would break through the spit and into the port.
3) The inner island, Pularo Maura Besar, would begin to erode.
In order to avoid these calamities, the problem was studied carefully
and a design was arrived at to stabilize the truncated (eastern) end of the

164

PELOMPONG SPIT
BRUNEI

Figure 54. Swell refraction off the Pelompong Spit, Brunei. Taken from
aerial photographs shot during the southwest monsoon in July 1971 (from Goh
et al., 1983, Figure 4).

BRUNEI BLUFF SOLj-rH CHINA SEA

PELOMPONG SPIT

1968

BRUNEI ANSON PASSAGE

PULA
MUARIUA
BESAR

0 1 2KM

Figure 55. Prograding sand ridges on Pelompong Spit and Paula Maura Besar
(after Tate, 1970; from Goh et al., 1983, Figure 5). These ridges reflect
the dominant easterly longshore transport direction generated by the west-
erly waves depicted in Figure 54.

165

PELOMPONG
SPIT 1888

1
8
88 L::@ 1945

1945
1956

1968

1968
@@@@1976

CHINA SEA
SOUT
1976

1980

HORE PROTECTION
STRUCTURE
BRUNEI
BRUNEI BAY

EROSION

Figure 56. Growth of Pelompong Spit between 1888 and 1980 (from Goh et
al., 1983, Figure 6). Note erosion of eastern limb of spit after channel
was cut in 1969.
PPELOMPONG
S T
ZjFIT

166

spit. The design calls for a series of 12 headland breakwaters of the type
recommended by Silvester (1974). A sketch of the proposed project, which
began in 1982, is given in Figure 57.

6.5 Erosion at Heron Island, Great Barrier Reef (Australia)

Heron Island is a small cay (sand island) on Heron Reef which is located in
the southern portion of the Great Barrier Reef (Australia) . The reef is
about 9 km long and 4 km wide, and the island itself is 830 m long and 300

m wide. The island is located on the extreme leeward end of the reef where

sand accumulated through time as a result of sand transport by refracted
waves (Figure 58). It is a precarious feature with a maximum elevation of

4.5 m above low-water datum.

Heron Island is one of two islands that provide tourist facilities on
the Great Barrier Reef. The island has a complex history of man-
modifications and storm erosion. The first development was a turtle soup
factory in the 1920s, which later became a tourist resort (1932). A chan-
nel was blasted through the reef in 1945, and a small boat harbor was
dredged in 1966. The present developments on the island are shown in Fig-
ure 59. Heron Island is struck by tropical cyclones about once every five
years, and most of them do some damage to the island. A rock wall was
built in the 1950s to protect the northwestern side of the island, which
had been eroded by storms. The leeward side of the island, site of the
harbor and tourist facilities, has been anything but stable, as can be seen
in the shoreline maps in Figure 60.
Gourlay (1983) outlined the following sequence of events which demon-
strate how the behavior of the island has been influenced by man:
1) In response to erosion during several tropical cyclones, a rock wall was
built to protect the tourist facilities.
2) Sand was transported by ebb currents off the reef platform and through
the gap cut through the reef.
3) The sand "tail" on the cay rotated west; the wall was extended because
of the increased exposure.
4) The extension of the wall into the zone of converging waves accelerated
the loss of sand from the reef platform.

167

0 250 500M
ETTEiiaE!m"
HEADLAND BREAKWATER

RECLAMATION
SOUTH CHINA SEA
HEADLANDS
BREAKWATERS
N01 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

SPIT
PELOMPONG

ANSON PASSAGE

Figure 57. Design proposed to stop erosion along the truncated eastern end
of Pelompong Spit (after Gob et al., 1983, Figure 15). Work began on the
project in 1982.

NJN.W SE DOMINANT DIFFRACTED
WAVE INTERFERENC WAVES
REFRACTED
WAVE
UNSTABLE
"TAIL"

CAY
LAGOON

WAVE-GENERATED EDGE
CURRENTS
DOMINANT WIND AND/
/ / OR SWELL DIRECTION

Figure 58. Model depicting the formation by wave-generated currents of a
hypothetical sand cay on the sea side of a reef (from Gourlay, 1983, Figure
6). Heron Island is thought to have had a similar origin.

168

GROUTED ROCK EFFLUENT
RETAINING WALL PIPE/
BEACH ROCK GROIN 1958 4C
CONCRETE BLOCK GROIN

TIMBER RETAINING WALL4,
TOURIST
RESORT
AFTER DREDGING 1968
1967
50 25 0 so
HELIPAD
METERS
FUEL POST
0

AFTER CYCLONE "EMILY"
IV
APRIL 1972
ESEARCH
STATION
BOAT HARBOR
-lox/

Figure 59. Modification of the western end of Heron Island (from Gourlay,
1983, Figure 4).

169

OLT

*(g aanSia 'C86T 'KvTanoo uioaj) 0861 PUP 9C6T
uaam4aq PuvTsI u0JaH 10 PuO uJalsam aql uO sa2uvqD au'TOJOqS -09 aan2Tj

096L'HVW Z ....... 9M *Nvr zz .......
SM *03G OL SM 100 L -
LL6L'HdVVL SL6L 'Nvr u -
Iv 9L6L '03a 9L ZL6L,onvvL

OW-@@61 9L61 - ZL6T

OM AVVY 9- - 9M 100 LZ
696L *8dV SL - V96L3Nnr 9z
L96L 100 9Z 696L'UVVY S
9M

Ile

.........t

TL6T-L96T 9961-W61

5) Wave erosion around the newly constructed helipod and destruction of re-
taining walls of the harbor added to the sand loss into deeper water.
6) Sand will probably not remain in front of the rock wall under present
conditions, and constant repairs of the seawalls will be required.
As a result of his work on Heron Island, Gourlay (1983) made the fol-
lowing plea regarding development of islands on coral reefs (p. 1,481):

In planning development on a coral cay, relatively wide buffer zones
must be allowed between the shoreline and the development to accommo-
date both normal erosion-accretion cycles and long-term erosion. This
is particularly important in the apparently sheltered lee of the cay.
It should always be remembered that these islands are geologically
temporary structures and could be destroyed by a severe 'direct hit'
cyclone.

6.6 Beach Erosion at Seabrook Island, South Carolina (U.S.)

Seabrook Island near Charleston, South Carolina (U.S.) (Figure 61), is a
typical mesotidal (tidal range = 2-4 m) barrier island consisting of veg-
etated beach ridges and low frontal dunes bounded by tidal inlets and a
marsh/tidal creek system. It has been developed as a private vacation re-
sort, starting in 1973. Due to its proximity to a major tidal inlet and
the presence of numerous shifting offshore shoals, the ocean shoreline has
tended to change rapidly in response to local variations in wave energy.
This has presented significant problems to portions of the existing devel-
opment. Several homes and the community center are located in erosion
zones and have required seawalls or rubblemound riprap for protection,
whereas some nearby beaches are presently accretional.
While coastal protection works are providing immediate relief to cer-
tain highly erosional areas of the development, they are causing long-term
adverse effects, including acceleration of erosion in unprotected areas and

destruction of the natural character of the island. This latter effect is

of great concern since the key attraction of this and other South Carolina
coastal developments is their unspoiled beaches.

171

CAPE HATTERAS

SOUTH-
EAST
COAST !,. i4 I'! CAPE FEAR
OF
UNITED OC
:.:L3. CHARLESTON
STATES

STUDY AREA
JACKSONVILL E

KIAWAH
ISLAND

SEABROOK*.'.::
ISLAND

MIAMI NORTH EDISTO INLET

Figure 61. Location map of Seabrook Island, South Carolina (30 km south of
Charleston, S.C.).

172

6.6.2 Modification of Coastal Processes by Artificial Structures
Coastal structures existing in 1978 at Seabrook Island included (1) sandbag
groins designed to trap sediment moving alongshore, (2) vertical poured-
concrete seawalls to protect a clubhouse and several houses, and (3) rub-

blemound riprap.

1) Sandbag Groins.
The groins at Seabrook trapped some of the sand moving alongshore and ini-
tially caused minor reorientation of the shoreline as fillet beaches devel-
oped on the updrift (northeast) side and erosion on the downdrift side.
However, after the reorientation to a new "equilibrium" shoreline, the ero-
sional trends continued despite the presence of these groins.

2) Concrete Seawalls.

The vertical seawalls at Seabrook have protected several houses and the

clubhouse by retaining sand behind them. However, they have had some ad-
verse effects including accelerated erosion along adjacent shorelines.

Wave reflection from the seawalls has caused scour and sediment removal

from the nearshore area.

3) Rubblemound Riprap.

These features also protected property, but like the vertical seawalls,
wave reflection tended to generate scour in front of them. The riprap
seawall is not solving the long-term problem of continued erosion on the
island, which is the lack of enough sediment supplied from updrift.

6.6.3 Shoreline Changes
In order to learn about the more recent short-term shoreline changes on
Seabrook Island, all charts and maps available were assembled and studied
by Hayes et al. (1980). Particular attention was placed on the changing

location of shoals and inlet channels. Five historical charts were avail-
able covering the period 1661 to 1924. A series of vertical aerial photo-
graphs covering the interval 1939 to 1973 were also examined. Historical
shoreline changes of Seabrook dating back to 1853 are shown on Figure 62.
Note that Seabrook was largely accretional until 1973.

173

RELATIVE SHORELINE

CHANGES

_70- SEABROOK 1853
6
dix
0 /7 ----- 1939
BOTAN
Y BAY/ 1973
ISLA
/Y . ......... .1978

o KM 1

oc"r,
0 MILES 2

Figure 62. Relative changes of the shorelines of Seabrook and Botany E,::,/
Islands between 1853 and 1978.

The maps, charts, and aerial photographs studied indicate that the re-
curved spit affiliated with Captain Sam's Inlet at the northern border of
the island undergoes a cycle of change that has occurred at least four
times since 1661. The cycle (Figure 63) includes:
1) Breaching of the spit at the neck (where Kiawah River crosses the island
perpendicularly) during a major storm.
2) Migration of the spit southwestward at the rate of approximately 60 m

per year.
3) Extension of the spit up to as much as the entire distance from the spit

neck to the southwestern end of Seabrook Island.

4) Breaching of the spit by another storm.
As the spit/inlet complex migrates, the affiliated ebb-tidal delta
complex migrates with it. As waves refract around the moving ebb-tidal
delta, the beach downdrift of the inlet tends to build out. The migrating

174

HISTORICAL CHANGES OF
CAPTAIN SAM'S INLET

SEABROOK ISLAND SEABROOK ISLAND
1696@@@@@
41AWAH ISLAND 1949 KIAWAH ISLAND
REFERENCE@@ fREFERENCE
CAPTAIN SAMS INLET CAPTAIN SAMS INLET
1822 1963

1854 Z z 1967

1922
1973

1938 1979

0 2000 f
0 2000

Figure 63. Historical changes of Captain Sam's Inlet, South Carolina (from
Hayes et al., 1980). Note periodic migration of the inlet from northeast
to southwest followed by spit breaching at an updrift location. The cycle
typically runs from 40 to 80 years.

175

ebb-tidal delta traps large volumes of sand. When the neck of the spit is
breached updrift, this sand is freed to move onto the beach to the south.
One of the most important discoveries of the historical analysis was
the fact that Deveaux Bank, a huge shoal on the ebb-tidal delta to the
south of Seabrook, has retreated a phenomenal amount since 1939 (over 1,000
m). From 1939 to approximately 1970, Deveaux Bank was an effective,
natural, offshore breakwater that sheltered the shoreline in the vicinity
of the southwestern point of the island from direct wave attack. In recent
years, however, the bank is too far landward to provide this protection, a
fact which has, no doubt, contributed significantly to the increased rate
of erosion of the Seabrook shorefront. In recent years, the rate of ero-
sion appears to have accelerated. Figure 64 shows the changes to Deveaux
Bank up to 1978. The supratidal portion of the bank underwent rapid land-

ward migration and erosion. The small intertidal shoal remaining in the
former location is relatively ineffective in blocking wave energy at high

tide.

Since the erosion area on Seabrook is located adjacent to North Edisto
Inlet, one of the largest tidal inlets on the South Carolina coast, bathy-
metric surveys of the main channel were compared from historical records to
determine if the channel had migrated north. Such channel migration would
undoubtedly contribute to erosion of the adjacent shoreline. However, the
surveys found no evidence to suggest channel meandering was occurring in
the vicinity of the southwestern point. There was evidence, however, that
the northern marginal flood channel (a secondary channel dominated by flood
currents) which flanks the main channel had shifted slightly landward to-
ward the southwestern point of Seabrook Island. This probably helped cause

the observed increase in erosion.

6.6.4 Causes of Erosion

The historical evidence indicates that until 1973, Seabrook Island had un-

dergone long-term accretion. This indication that Seabrook Island is ba-
sically a regressive barrier (seaward-building) in a geological sense, as

well as the fact that tremendous volumes of sand are stored in the North

Edisto ebb-tidal delta complex (roughly one-half the volume of the sand
stored in the entire Kiawah/Seabrook barrier-island complex) (Hayes et al.,

176

SEABROOK

vd@@o -1939

-1978

DEVEAUX
BANKS

OC
Vol JIG f@AN
RELATIVE LOCATIONS
OF 0 400
DEVEAUTX BANK MMia
METERS

Figure 64. Comparison of aerial extent of Deveaux Bank between 1939 and
1978. The center of the bank retreated 1,500 m, and the bank decreased
roughly one-fourth of its original size between 1939 and 1978. Thus, the
natural breakwater effect formerly provided by the shoal was no longer
available to Seabrook Island, which began to erode in 1973.
A
\\@EABROO.K

177

1976), suggests that localized erosion problems at Seabrook are reversible.
It is primarily a matter of inducing an adequate amount of the sand avail-

able in the area to reside on the beach.

The foregoing analysis suggests the following major causes of shore-
line change along Seabrook Island:
1) Southerly migration of the updrift (Captain Sam's) inlet and inlet-
affiliated ebb-tidal delta which causes erosion along the inlet shore-

line and accretion in the lee of the delta.

2) Encroachment of the northern marginal flood channel of the downdrift
(North Edisto) inlet against the southeastern point of Seabrook Island.
3) Erosion and landward migration of an offshore supratidal bank (Deveaux)
which has allowed increasing amounts of wave energy to reach the shore.
Based on the above causes of erosion, a number of soft engineering so-
lutions were proposed by Hayes et al. (1980) to retard or eliminate local
erosion problems at Seabrook Island. These included:
1) Dredging of a new inlet channel north of Captain Sam's Inlet to allow
sand in the ebb delta to migrate naturally onshore at Seabrook.
2) Dredging of a new, northern, marginal flood channel further seaward on
the North Edisto River ebb-tidal delta to relieve the erosive pressure
at the southeastern point of Seabrook.
3) Reestablishment of a natural (or artificial) breakwater in the former
position of Deveaux Bank.
One possibility for the latter would be to construct a floating, offshore
breakwater. These solutions are outlined in Figure 65.
One of these recommended solutions, relocation of Captain Sam's Inlet
updrift, was completed in February 1983. The design plan for the relo-
cation is shown in Figure 66. At the time of this writing (October 1983),
the new inlet is functioning as planned, and sand from the abandoned
ebb-tidal delta is going ashore on Seabrook Island.

6.6.5 Conclusion
Although the solutions proposed by Hayes et al. (1980) to abate beach ero-
sion at Seabrook Island do not have the permanence of hard engineering
coastal protection works, their cost of implementation is at least an order
of magnitude less than presently used structures. They also have the

178

aesthetic advantage of preserving the character of Seabrook beaches. The
apparent success of the relocation of Captain Sam's Inlet demonstrates the
relevance of geologic and coastal process information not only for use in
hard designs, but also as a means for determining appropriate soft design
solutions for coastal protection.

NY
is.
SEABROOKISLAND 0 1600
em;01SQ
DEVEAUX BANK FT.

M c V
LUB HOUSE
H Is
1K1

F
A IN
LO'
BREAKWATER
el e2
t4-fic; OCEAN
f2 A
L j - - I

Figure 65. Proposed "soft" engineering solutions for reducing shoreline
erosion along Seabrook Island, including (1) dredging new channels at e 2
and fV allowing existing Captain Sam's Inlet channel (eI) and North Edisto
Inlet marginal flood channel (f ) to infill; and (2) construction of a
floating breakwater (or hydraulic filling) in the former position of
Deveaux Bank.

179

RELOCATION OF CAPTAIN SAMS INLET

36,
4,S
40" 4 SEABROOK ISLAND
L
URPLUS DISPOSAL AREAJ
S MHW
MLW
W
RIV
X F;q
SEABROOKISLAND
_OOD
'-@@NG
F[ eX IS T @G@
SAND SPIT

A >-:0-A, KIAWAH ISLAND
'PROPOSED DIKEJ.".*@-@'.- MHW
'00 T
C@ 2500x
F
T MLW
MLW

0
PROPOSED CHANNEL
1400 FT x 250 FT
TO -5 FT MI W

1000 0 1000
FEET
CAV,

Figure 66. The plan for relocating Captain Sam's Inlet which was completed
in February 1983. The project freed a large volume of sand trapped at the
mouth of the existing inlet, which is now (October 1983) renourishing the
eroding downdrift beach to the southwest.

180

7. EROSION ASSESSMENT

7.1 Introduction

Before assessing the impact of beach erosion or determining methods to com-
bat it, baseline data must be gathered and compiled for the area in ques-
tion. This process has normally been carried out at two levels: (1) a
general coastal environmental assessment, which includes a wide variety of
data inputs; and (2) a specific determination of shoreline erosion rates.
Examples of these two approaches are discussed below.

7.2 Coastal Environmental Assessment

7.2.1 Introduction

Development of guidelines for proper management of any coastal zone re-
quires an adequate knowledge of the nature and distribution of natural en-
vironments, land and water capability, and man's impact on the coastal

zone. One of the best known efforts to tabulate such information for a
specific region is a series of "Environmental Geological Atlases" that have
been compiled for the coastal zone of the State of Texas (U.S.) by the
Bureau of Economic Geology at the University of Texas. The principal prod-
uct of this endeavor is an environmental geology map.

7.2.2 Environmental Geology Map
The techniques employed in compiling the environmental geology map (by the
Texas group) is paraphrased generally as follows (from Fisher et al., 1973,
pp. 2-4). Environmental geology units for the entire coastal zone were
interpreted from and plotted on aerial photomosaics and corresponding U.S.
Geological Survey topographic maps, both at a scale of 1:24,000. All envi-
ronmental maps were printed on a regional base map of the coastal zone.
Mapping involved extensive aerial photographic interpretation, field-
work, aerial reconnaissance, and utilization of available published data
for the region. General sources and flow of data used in mapping are shown
in Figure 67. Interpretation and mapping of environmental geologic units
were based on a genetic grouping of the major natural and man-made features
of the coastal zone. Units mapped were interpreted to be of first-order
importance to the environmental character of the zone. First-order envi-
ronmental units included the following:

181

PRIMARY DATA SOURCES

Aerial Photos Aerial recon Field Mapping Geologic Zoology, Bozany Navigations Special Maps Soil Maps and
Mapping and Checking Publications Reports Charts and Reports Topographic maps

Environmental Geologic Map
Substrate, process, biology
and man-made units
scale: 1:125,000

SUPPLEMENTAL DATA SOURCES FOR SPECIAL-USE MAPS
TOPOGRAPHIC ECOLOGY ENGINEERING CLIMATOLOGY TEXAS PARKS POWER PIPELINE
CULTURE MAPS BIOFACIES SOIL TEST DATA METEOROLOGY AND WILDLIFE OIL FIELD MAPS
REPORTS REPORTS U.S. GEOL. SURVEY OTHER STATISTICS
DATA

TOPOGRAPHY CURRENT MAN-MADE ENVIRONMENTS PHYSICAL ACTIVE RAINFALL MINERAL AND
AND LAND USE FEATURES AND AND BIOLOGIC PROPERTIES PROCESS DISCHARGE AND ENERGY
BATHYMETRY WATER SYSTEMS ASSEMBLACES SURFACE RESOURCES
SALINITY
SPECIAL USE MAPS DERIVATIVE INTERPRETIVE
SCALE 1:125,000

ENVIRONMENTAL GEOLOGICAL
POLIO AND TEXT

SEVEN MAP AREAS : 83 MAPS
6 SPECIAL USE MAPS

Figure 67. Sources and flow of data used in compiling the Environmental
Geologic Atlas of the Texas Coastal Zone (from Fisher et al., 1973, Figure
2).

1) A wide variety of sedimentary substrates (sand, mud, shell) and associ-
ated soil units displaying distinct properties and composition.
2) Units displaying a variety of natural processes, including storm chan-
nels, tidal passes, tidal flats, fluvial channels, wind erosion, and
other dynamic properties of significance in maintaining and modifying

the coastal environments.
3) Biologic features such as reefs, marshes and swamps, subaqueous grass-
flats, and plant-stabilized sediment where biologic activity is of prin-
cipal importance.
4) Man-made features such as spoil heaps, spoil wash, dredged channels, and
modified land where man's activities have resulted in significant envi-

ronmental modification.

Approximately 135 specific environmental geologic units were recognized and
mapped in the Texas Coastal Zone. These environmental geology map units
were grouped into higher order natural systems, such as fluvial/deltaic
barrier island, and bay/estuary/lagoon.

182

7.2.3 Other Maps Produced
Following the production of the environmental geology map, a series of
11special-use environmental maps were prepared to present more specific in-
formation for a variety of potential users" (Fisher et al., 1973, pp. 5-6).
The following topics were covered by the maps:
1) Physical properties (characterization of soils and land forms).
2) Environments and biological assemblages.
3) Current land use.
4) Mineral and energy resources.
5) Active processes (including a general delineation of zones of erosion
and deposition).
6) Man-made features and water systems.
7) Rainfall, stream discharge, and surface salinity.
8) Topography and bathymetry.

7.2.4 Summary
The approach used by the Texas group produces a high level of understanding
of the coastal zone under consideration. Unfortunately, this approach is
costly and thus unattainable for many coastal management programs.

7.3 Specific Shoreline Erosion Inventories

7.3.1 Introduction

In the absence of funds to carry out an extensive survey of the type dis-
cussed in the preceding section, specific determination of beach erosion
trends may be feasible. U.S. studies carried out in North Carolina (Staf-
ford, 1971) and South Carolina (Stephen et al., 1975; Hubbard et al.,
1977b) could be used as models.

7.3.2 Study Procedure
The principal data sources are all the aerial photographs of the region
that have been taken. In some cases, older topographic maps and nautical
charts may be used if the data are thought to be reliable.
As a first step in beginning the survey, all the overlapping aerial
photographic coverage available is obtained. For best results, a spacing of
5- to 10-year intervals is required. For example, the South Carolina survey

183

(Stephen et al., 1975) included photographs taken in 1939/1941, 1949, 1953,

1957, 1963, and 1973.
Next, selected reference points, identifiable from year to year on the
photographs, are established. Permanent structures or fixed points, such
as road intersections and ends of beach ridges, are used. The distance
from the reference point to the beach is measured as closely as possible.

The difference, after scale corrections, between measurements from two
successive photographs is the amount of erosion or deposition which
occurred during the time interval under consideration. Scale corrections
are calculated by using a ratio comparing the distance between two fixed
reference points on photographs of known scale to the distance between the
same reference points on the successive photographs. Stafford (1971) has
shown that errors in measurements using aerial photographs at a reasonable
scale are usually insignificant when dealing with large mean rates of
change such as those which generally occur in most coastal areas.

7.3.3 Data Presentation

The results of the aerial photographic study may be presented at three
levels. A general management map may be provided which delineates areas of
coastline that have undergone (1) long-term erosion, (2) long-term accre-
tion, (3) periods of both accretion and erosion (instability), and (4) sta-
bility. These terms are defined as follows:
1) Long-term erosion - Areas which have undergone relatively continuous
erosion over the study interval (usually several decades).
2) Long-term accretion - Areas which have undergone relatively continuous
deposition over the study interval.
3) Unstable - Areas with fluctuations greater than 50 ft over the study

interval.

4) Stable - Areas with fluctuations in position of the shoreline of less

than 20 m over the study period.
Use of this map allows for a rapid determination of the general char-
acter of any stretch of shoreline under study. An example of one of these
maps from the South Carolina study is given in Figure 68.

184

ISLE OF PALMS
W 2
3

5
00

METERS
12
14
171
8

20
22 21 OCEAN UNSTABLE
23 LONG-TERM EROSION
24
25 EgSTABLE
MLONG-TERM ACCRETION

Figure 68. Example of a coastal management map based on shoreline erosion
inventory. Area is Isle of Palms, South Carolina, U.S. (from Stephen et
al., 1975, Figure 8).

Another type of presentation gives the cumulative trends for the mi-
gration of the shoreline at selected reference points (e.g., Figure 69).
These graphs are of value to anyone interested in coastal development, be-
cause the migrational trends for very short stretches of beach (200-500 m)
are clearly shown. All the interested party need do is study the graphs
for the section of beach of concern, and he can immediately see if it has
had an erosional, depositional, or stable history.
Finally, the incremental change between photographic years, as well as
the total amount of change at each reference point, may be presented as ta-

bles.

7.3.4 Summary
The data obtained by the study of sequential aerial photographs and charts
is a fundamental source of information regarding coastal zone development.
An important consideration in any beach management program is the estab-

185

lishment of a reasonable setback line, seaward of which no construction is
allowed. Critical to the determination of such a line is the knowledge of
the changes that can be expected along any given section of beach through
time. The individual erosion/deposition curves derived from a study of the
type just outlined detail the variability that exists at given locations.
Therefore, these erosion/deposition data could be used to establish zones
where development should be prohibited or where remedial measures are apt

to fail.

ISLE OF PALMS

0 1500

METERS

0 3
25 23 22 19
1 13
200-

0-- 1 121 3

-100-
200-
UJ 09
UJ
2 0- 23 17
_T r

_100-
200-
0" 25 19 ------------ \-13
(0 0 (000 S it 8 W W (DID
-100- r2 4 (A 0) -4 K) Jh CPO) -4 oh (a 0) 14
tj C) CJ C4 W ro C4 C4 Q,

Figure 69. Erosion/deposition curves for the Isle of Palms, South Caro-
lina, U.S. During the past 100 years, the northeastern end of the island
(graphs 3-13) has been characterized by periods of erosion followed by
periods of accretion. These have been caused, in part, by changes of adja-
cent tidal inlets. The central and southwestern shorelines (graphs 15-25)
have been accretional or stable since 1872. A field of groins located
along these beaches has been partially responsible for this stability (from
Hayes et al., 1978).
5

186

8. LESSONS LEARNED

The goal of this report is to provide guidelines for dealing with present
and potential beach erosion problems in developing countries. The best
time to deal with such problems is in the planning stages for coastal de-
velopments, not after unwisely building a structure that is threatened by
erosion within a few years of its construction. Much has been learned
about the causes and cures of beach erosion during the past few decades.
The case studies previously discussed provide many lessons learned for ap-
plication elsewhere. For example, the case study in Japan demonstrated
that dams on rivers cut off the sand supply. This is a problem that could
not be readily solved, so ingenious engineering designs were required.
Offshore breakwaters have proved to be the best solution for Japan's beach
erosion problems. In other areas not so intensely developed as Japan, it
is possible that relatively low-cost "soft" engineering solutions can be

used, as was demonstrated at Seabrook Island, South Carolina. The writer
is convinced that sound planning and management can help avoid most of the
pitfalls of beach erosion in developing countries, particularly if the fol-
lowing basic guidelines ("golden rules") are adhered to.

9. GUIDELINES
(1) UNDERSTAND THE NATURAL BEACH SYSTEM BEFORE IT IS ALTERED. SITE-
SPECIFIC STUDIES MAY BE REQUIRED AT MANY LOCALITIES TO INSURE WISE
PLANNING DECISIONS.

The interface between the land and the sea is a dynamic, changing natural
system. Man's interference with natural, longshore sand transport is one
of the major causes of beach erosion problems. Dealing with the nearshore
system requires careful study, which can be moderately costly. But, these
costs are miniscule compared with the restoration costs of major losses in
a beach erosion zone. Several of the case studies, the erosion in Togo and
Benin for example, demonstrate that prior study and planning could have
prevented most of the erosion problems that now plague those areas.

(2) DEVELOP A SETBACK LINE BEFORE CONSTRUCTION BEGINS.

This is a most important rule; however, a thorough knowledge of the histor-
ical evolution of the site is required. The case study of Seabrook Island,

187

South Carolina, demonstrates a serious erosion problem that could have been
avoided if a proper setback line had been established. Kiawah Island,
South Carolina, Seabrook's neighbor to the north, has been developed with-
out erosion problems because of the establishment of a carefully designed
setback line prior to development.

(3) WHERE A MAJOR OBSTRUCTION TO LONGSHORE SAND TRANSPORT IS BUILT, SUCH
AS A LARGE HARBOR, ALLOW FOR AN ADEQUATE SAND-BYPASSING SYSTEM.
Decisions to begin major developments such as harbors are usually based on
weighty issues like the economic well-being of a country. Beach-erosion
concerns pale when compared with such issues in the planning stages of a
project. Unfortunately, a few years later, after it is too late to do any-
thing about it, beach erosion may be so severe that it becomes the overrid-
ing economic concern. Sand-bypassing systems cost only a small fraction of
the costs for a major project, so they should be integrated in the master
plan for every project that will impede littoral transport. The bypass
system should place as much sand on the downdrift side of the structure as
arrives on the updrift side.

(4) WHERE POSSIBLE, USE SOFT SOLUTIONS, SUCH AS SAND NOURISHMENT OR DI-
VERSION OF CHANNELS, RATHER THAN HARD SOLUTIONS, SUCH AS REVETMENTS
OR SEAWALLS, TO SOLVE BEACH EROSION PROBLEMS.
"Sof t" solutions are always difficult to sell to developers and managers,
who usually prefer to see a hard structure in place. The few applications
of "soft" solutions carried out to date have been generally successful, so
it is anticipated that these techniques will be adopted quickly by progres-
sive engineers. Costs for such projects vary on a site-by-site basis. The
rechanneling of a tidal inlet at Seabrook Island, South Carolina (previous-
ly discussed) was considerably cheaper than hard solutions.

(5) MAINTAIN A PROMINENT FOREDUNE RIDGE.

Building on top of foredunes or flattening them for construction sites are
common practices in highly populated areas. Dunes should be spared so sand
can always move back and forth along the beach in an unimpeded natural cy-
cle. Removal of dunes does not allow space for the occurrence of natural
erosional/depositional cycles on the beaches. The result is undercutting

188

of the buildings on the dunes, which necessitates the construction of

seawalls.

(6) IF A BEACH IS VALUABLE FOR TOURISM, RECREATION, OR WILDLIFE HABITAT,
DO NOT MINE THE SAND FROM DUNE, BEACH, OR NEARSHORE BARS.

The sand supply on beaches is not limitless. In fact, the longshore trans-
port system is so delicately balanced that removing sand from it is the
surest way to guarantee beach erosion.

(7) DO NOT PANIC AFTER A STORM AND DRASTICALLY ALTER THE BEACH. WHEN-
EVER POSSIBLE, LET THE NORMAL BEACH CYCLE RETURN THE SAND.

Resist the urge to move sand around during the f irst f ew days af ter a
storm. Beaches recover rapidly, and the first few hours and days are the
periods of greatest change.

189

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200

Case Study Three

CORAL HARVESTING AND SAND MINING

MANAGEMENT PRACTICES

Random DuBois and Edward L. Towle

SUMMARY

This study addresses the coastal resource management problems asso-
ciated with sand mining and coral harvesting in tropical areas. Cus-
tomary sand and coral extraction techniques, large and small scale use
practice, impacts on local environments, and alternative harvesting
approaches to various marine minerals are reviewed. Specific examples
of adverse effects on the environment from excessive, badly sited,
ill-planned or un-monitored coral harvesting and beach, dune, and marine
sand mining activities are presented and analyzed. These examples are
based on existing documentation, and in some instances, were corrobo-
rated by site visits to areas where large scale, hydraulic dredging
strategies for marine sand had been employed or land-based beach or dune
sand mining were common practice.
Study findings suggest the following.
(1) The mining of beach and dune sand should be discouraged except
under special circumstances, with careful advance planning and monitoring.
(2) Coral reefs, marine sand deposits, sand beaches and dunes are
each a part of dynamic natural coastal systems which provide barriers to
potentially damaging storm-driven waves and swells. Modifications to
them resulting from poorly planned or sited sand and coral mining activ-
ity can, over time, diminish their protective capacity causing loss or
damage to shoreline areas and facilities.
(3) Marine sand mining (especially by hydraulic dredging) should be
confined to coastal waters sufficiently deep, open and distant from ad-
jacent coral reefs and beaches to minimize coastal impacts.
(4) Sand and coral mining projects require antecedent impact assess-
ments, baseline site studies and monitoring. Ideally, they should be
preceded by a comprehensive sand and coral resource assessment, as part
of a sand and coral management planning strategy. Post-mining site re-
surveys and impact assessments are recommended.
(5) The commercial harvesting of deep "precious coral" species re-
quires specialized management strategies because of their exceptionally
slow growth rates.

204

1. INTRODUCTION

Coastal and nearshore marine minerals of most developing countries repre-
sent both a traditional and expandable resource of economic value and
strategic significance. For centuries, coastal minerals of both geolog-
ical and biological origin have served as sources of building materials
(rock and coral), lime (derived from coral and calcareous sands) and
currency (shells and corals). More recently, as the economies of many of
these countries have grown and diversified, marine minerals are being
heavily exploited for uses as fuel (oil and gas), rare metals extraction
(placer deposits), jewelry and tourist curios (coral and shell), and, on
a much larger scale using new technologies, for construction aggregate.
Coastal areas are not only a source of valuable and useful minerals;
they also represent a zone where massive amounts of sedimentary materials
are often dredged or dug from one location and moved to more preferred
locations as fill or discarded spoil. Harbors are often built, im-
proved, or expanded by deepening the seaward portion, approach channels
and turning basins. Excavated material is sometimes discarded but more
customarily is used as fill to expand landward portions of harbors for
new docks, warehousing and cargo handling facilities or waterfront re-
newal areas. Sea sand is occasionally dredged from "offshore" and trans-
planted "onshore" to restore, improve or even create a beach in a process

called beach nourishment. Sometimes sand is extracted from offshore de-
posits and used solely as fill to create new "flat land" by covering over
coastal swamplands, mangrove areas, or shallow lagoons. In these in-
stances where "sand" is used for fill, the value of the dredged or mined
material is derived largely from its mass and accessibility rather than
its compositional quality.
As the uses for coastal minerals have expanded and demand continues
to grow, their often unquantified, unmanaged, and unmonitored extraction
has resulted in significant modifications to coastal regimes--often with
considerable environmental damage and occasional economic loss. Exam-
ples of these impacts include coastal erosion, loss of habitat, declining
water quality and reduced biological productivity. Due to the biological
and physical processes characteristic of tropical coastal areas, these

205

natural systems are slow in returning to pre-existing conditions or
sustain irreversible impacts (see Section 4).
The principal causes of adverse environmental impacts associated
with coastal mineral resource extraction include: 1) the failure to

account for the relevant biological, geological and physical parameters
which characterize the mining and emplacement or disposal sites; 2)
failure to discern the pathways and linkages between the biotic (living)
and abiotic (non-living) components associated with the activity; 3)
failure to employ proper technologies; and 4) failure to develop and
adopt sand and coral resource management strategies which allow for
environmentally sustainable mining activities.
Though coastal and marine mining as an extractive or harvesting
process implicitly involves environmental disturbance, many of its asso-
ciated impacts can be reduced if not eliminated. It is the purpose of
this case study to demonstrate the consequences of poorly planned or
executed marine mining activities and to identify possible alternative
extractive or harvesting strategies which minimize some of the negative
environmental effects and which also minimize costly Lx-22st-Lacto
remedial engineering interventions.
Sources of information for the case study were derived from a sys-
tematic review of the literature, reports from expert consultants, and
visits to various sand mining and dredging sites in St. Lucia, the
Virgin islands, and Puerto Rico in the Caribbean and Fiji in the South
Pacific. The discussion on coral harvesting per se is based on selected
examples described in the literature, due to the absence of extensive
hard coral block extraction activity at the beach and nearshore sand
mining sites visited.
The authors acknowledge the valuable field assistance and construc-
tive input from the following individuals: Robert Devaux and Henry
Edmunds (St. Lucia); Robert vanEepoel, Thomas Nunn, James Beets,
and Werner Wernicke (St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands); and Dr. Uday Raj,
Cruz Matos, and B. Singh (Fiji). Editorial and technical support was
provided by Judith Towle (Island Resources Foundation) and Frances
Roberts (World Wildlife Fund-US).

206

2. STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM

Substantial portions of the nearshore marine areas and coastal zones of
most developing countries are simultaneously 1) a target of expanding
development initiatives and 2) a source of large volumes of mineral
materials required for development activity or generated by that very
development as a secondary product requiring "disposal". Unfortunately,
the development process is rarely planned or scheduled to permit the
"materials" needs of one scheme to be filled in a timely fashion by the
mineral materials excavated in another. Locational separation of the
source (or borrow site) and the emplacement (or spoil site) often ex-
acerbates the problem. High transport costs complicate moving low unit
value, high volume materials (like sand) even moderate distances.

Marine mineral material serves many different purposes and may be

harvested:

as aggregate for concrete by small and large scale users;
for the sole purpose of later extracting small quantities
of some valuable trace mineral, leaving vast amounts of waste
materials called "tailings";
because it is simply in the way and needs to be moved (e.g.,
harbor, canal, marina, and ship channel sediments);
0 for its bulk and cheapness as "fill" (in coastal storm defense
systems, causeways, roads, airports);
for beach enhancement and storm damage repair to shorelines;
because, in tropical areas, it is needed for its chemical and
physical properties, e.g., as coral construction block, for
lime production, cement manufacture, or to sell as an export
(precious coral, shells, aggregate).

The most commonly harvested marine mineral is sand. In non-tropical
countries, sand is an erosion product of the land areas. Rivers and
streams transport sand and other sediments to the sea where they are
subsequently distributed somewhat unevenly by waves and currents along
the shorelines as beaches, dunes, sand spits, barrier islands, and
submerged layers of sediments on coastal shelves and platforms and in
estuaries and harbors. By way of contrast, in tropical countries with

207

sea coasts and coral reefs, sand is formed in the sea biogenically.
Like its terrestrially derived temperate counterpart, this carbonate
sand often ends up distributed unevenly on adjacent coastal areas.
Sometimes both types are intermixed in varying proportions.
Regardless of the origin of the sand or its composition, all na-
tions have it and mine it by various methods as a mineral. It is a
basic material, and developing and developed countries alike confront
coastal sand supply, distribution and resource management problems for a
variety of reasons:

Sand is a vital component of various coastal processes and

habitats, and is difficult to "harvest" without disrupting

one or the other or both.

Sand, although a renewable resource, is replaced only on a
long-term basis or cycle due to low natural production rates.
Sand deposits are usually in the "wrong" place when needed
(i.e., often "underwater" or distant from intended use sites).
Marine sand can be expensive to harvest or "mine"--and if
large volumes are involved, the process requires specialized,
elaborate and costly hydraulic dredging or excavating equipment
(which is always at risk and subject to damage or loss on open
coastlines under even moderate storm conditions).

Demand cycles for marine sand and aggregate mining activity
vary widely which makes advance planning difficult.

The scale and method of extraction and the mode of transport
and emplacement also vary widely, and each step poses the risk
of inadvertent, undesireable environmental effects.
Unfortunately, the development planning and resource management
approaches used in many developing countries are not sufficiently respon-
sive to the complexity of local demand factors, site selection and har-
vesting practices. There is a need for antecedent and post-audit envi-
ronmental impact assessments. The least damaging extraction and emplace-

ment strategies need to be selected when addressing coral and sand mining

requirements.

208

3. THE RESOURCE

3.1 Coastal Minerals

The coastal plain and adjacent nearshore submerged continental shelf

constitute a zone abundant in useful mineral resources. The area

serves as a sink for terrestrial alluvium and marine minerals trans-

ported onshore to beaches by wind-driven waves and tidal currents.
Typical nearshore marine minerals include bauxite, phosphates, placer
deposits, and aggregate (sand, gravel, shell). Beneath the sea bed of
submerged coastal shelf areas may be found such economically valuable
and extractable resources as petroleum and natural gas, as well as

surface minerals which have been reworked downward. Dissolved minerals

are present in the waters overlying the marine portion of the coastal
area, of which salt (sodium chloride), the most prevalent, is commonly
harvested by solar evaporation of sea water in low lying coastal areas

around the world.

3.1.1 Placers

The two categories of hard minerals of greatest economic importance
which occur in the coastal area are placers and aggregates. Placers are
deposits of minerals and heavy-metal ores such as gold, magnetite and
chromite concentrated by the mechanical sorting action of currents
(Press and Siever, 1972). Due to their high specific gravity, these
minerals settle rapidly near the mouths of rivers whenever stream flow
energy levels fall below critical points determined by the minerals'
respective specific gravity. Subsequent sorting by local waves and
currents removes the lighter elements leaving behind the heavier min-
erals. Cronan (1980) suggested that mid-latitude and high energy trop-
ical beaches are the most favorable environments for these deposits.
The existence of offshore or nearshore placer deposits is highly
correlated with drowned river valleys and submarine terraces formed by
global changes in sea level (eustatic), the submarine erosion of min-
eralized outcrops and occasionally nearby terrigenous sources.

209

3.1.2 Aggregate
Aggregate is a technical term for deposits of sand, gravel or occasion-
ally shell. When harvested, sorted by size and washed free of clay and
organic material, these materials are capable of being bound together by
cementing agents for use in the construction industry. Coastal aggregate
deposits, especially those of temperate zone continents and even some
larger islands, are essentially the products of terrestrial erosion.
They are most often associated with river beds and mouths, sand beaches
and shallow offshore platforms and shelf areas.
A second major source of aggregate characteristic of many tropical
coastal areas is carbonate sand derived from nearshore coral and algal
communities (Figure 1).
Corals are living systems of invertebrate coelenterates which live
as colonies within a self-made external supportive structure composed of
calcium carbonate. A characteristic feature of one group of corals, the
hermatypic corals, is the presence of symbiotic algae (zooxanthellae)
which appear to serve the corals in respiration and skeletal growth
(Stoddart, 1969). Many species of hermatypic or stony corals are note-
worthy in that they are the principal species in forming a large and
diverse but interrelated community termed a coral reef. These commun-
ities, composed of a complex assemblage of marine life, represent a
reservoir of calcium carbonate, stored in the form of shells and skele-
tons of organisms that inhabit the reef. Due to physical and biological
forces that erode and transform these organisms' skeletal remains, cal-
careous sand is continually being generated, and some is subsequently
transported to shore by the prevailing wind-driven waves and currents.
Marine calcareous algae, often occurring both inshore of and asso-
with the adjacent reef, are a second significant source of carbonate
sands in tropical waters. Decay of carbonate plates and nodules con-
nected with these algae also contributes to the sand budget of tropical
coastal areas. Hubbard, et.al. (1981a) estimates that the calcareous
algae and other associated members of the coral reef community (molluscs,
sea urchins, etc.) may even surpass corals in production of calcareous

material that becomes carbonate sea sand.

210

CbM

*. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..

Figure 1. Geographical distribution of hermatypic corals where ten or more genera have
been recorded (Source: Stoddart, 1969).

3.2 Uses

3.2.1 Placer Deposits
Industrial scale exploitation of marine placer deposits is rare among
less developed countries (LDC's), due in part to limited financial and
technical resources for geological surveys. Placer mining is usually of
small scale and conducted through a joint venture with a second country
or firm willing to invest resources in exchange for a percentage of the
profits. However, increased awareness of the importance of strategic
metals by the developed world, together with a desire by LDC's to
diversify their economies, could result in an expansion of current
activities. The ongoing United Nations program strategy to support
regional Coordinating Committees for Offshore Prospecting (CCOP) is
currently assisting a number of Asian and Pacific coastal and insular
developing countries in the achievement of this objective.

3.2.2 Aggregate Materials
In contrast to the limited distribution of placer deposits, sand and
gravel are generally plentiful and widespread. Despite this abundance,
however, local scarcities do occur. Due to the low unit value and the
high unit transport cost of aggregate, economics dictate that mining
should occur in close proximity to the site of intended use. This is
especially true when extremely large volumes of sand and gravel are
extracted for fill, beach nourishment or remedial shoreline stabiliza-

tion. In coastal areas, this constraint is complicated by the recent
rapid growth of urban centers which has exhausted traditional nearby

mining sites.
One response to this scarcity has been to exploit adjacent sandy
beaches and dune systems. However, despite the short term advantages in
convenience and reduced costs associated with this alternative, there are
hidden long term consequences (habitat destruction, coastal erosion, and
reduced natural hazard protection against storm waves).
Customary extraction patterns reflect two distinct use categories
with very different scales of operation. In one category, a few--even
a few hundred--persons remove sand and aggregate from a beach, dune,

212

reef flat or lagoon system on a modest scale over a long span of time.
This first approach requires one kind of resource management strategy.
The second category involves massive, capital intensive, mining or
dredging operations removing millions of cubic yards of material over a
period of a few months from a single location on a one-time development
project basis. Such a scale and intensity present a very different kind
of resource management problem.
As awareness of the problems associated with beach sand extraction
has grown, increasing interest has been diverted to offshore mining as a
viable alternative. This technique has proven to be economically feas-
ible in many coastal sites. Today the most active aggregate mining
countries are Japan, the United States, the United Kingdom, Australia,
and the Netherlands (Cruickshank and Hess, 1975). Established marine
sand mining enterprises from these countries often are intermittently
involved as contractors in developing country projects, using massive,
sea-going dredging vessels and equipment. Such marine dredging endeav-
ors, often harvesting large volumes of material, require different kinds
of equipment, involve different kinds of impacts, and necessitate very
different resource management strategies from terrestrial sand mining

activities.

3.2.3 Coral Harvesting
In many developing countries coral chunks or "heads" are mined from the
living reef or from the landward rubble zone behind the reef to provide a
source for building "blocks" and the production of lime (Mahadevan and
Nayar, 1972). Typically, coral is cut or sawn into blocks before being
allowed to dry and harden by exposure to sun and air. once blocks are
set they are often covered with some form of waterproofing which also
serves as decoration (Phelan, 1952).

Coral-based lime production is a centuries old traditional indus-
try in many parts of the coastal tropics. The process only requires the
application of heat (9000C.) to coral or algal limestone traditionally
worked in an easily contructed basalt kiln. The calcined (burnt) lime-
stone is then removed, slaked, graded, sacked and stored until needed.

213

Typical industrial and domestic uses of the lime include application in
mortar and cement and as a clarifying agent, neutralizer and soil condi-

tioner.

The use of both coral sands and coral blocks for building and con-
struction purposes became quite common in the Caribbean and South Pacific
theatres of World War II where construction of airbases and defensive
fortifications required the use of locally available building materials
on many of the resource-poor islands. Their use is still common today
throughout most smaller offshore tropical island areas when populations
are clustered along shorelines.

3.3 Methods of Extraction

Onshore sand harvesting from beaches and associated beach berms and
dunes is convenient and inexpensive. As a result, it has been a tradi-
tional practice for centuries and is still common in some countries, es-
pecially in more remote coastal areas. Methods of extraction range from
a hand shovel and wheel barrow or truck to various types of mechanical
front-end loaders, back hoes, draglines, power shovels and bulldozers.
For many people and rural villages, beaches are the only source of
affordable and accessible sand (Figure 2).
Coral harvesting of dead coral blocks, taken from back-reef areas,
is normally done by hand from the shallow rubble zone, "lagoon" or reef
flat. Where coral heads deposited by storm waves have become "cemented"
to the substrate or in cases of living corals mined directly from the
reef, long handled tongs, steel pry bars, dynamite, wire rope, and power
winches are the principal means of harvest. Small scale entrepreneurs
use boats to transport the coral blocks ashore for processing, direct

use or sale. The cumulative environmental impact of these practices,
however, can be costly (see Section 5) and, in combination with a rising
demand for aggregate and building material, has forced most countries to
look to offshore sand resources and a dredging strategy.
In contrast to beach sand and coral mining, marine dredging repre-
sents a more technically-demanding extractive process; the required
equipment is cumbersome, costly and complex where large quantities of

214

Y@-@ -w.

AWL

k-n

41,

Figure 2. Illegal beach sand mining, St. Maarten, Netherlands Antilles.

sand are involved; the process is often at risk due to adverse weather
conditions; and the impact to coastal ecosystems can be severe. Des-
pite these constraints, dredging is a proven strategy for harvesting
marine aggregate and sedimentary material for fill and construction
use. Dredging is also used to create canals, harbors, ship channels,
turning basins, marinas and underwater trenches for pipelines, tunnels
and power cables, where the dredged material is only a by-product.
The prevailing methodology for the extraction of nearshore or off-
shore non-fuel minerals (especially aggregate) involves two types of
dredge systems, mechanical and hydraulic. The most common mechanical
types are the dipper dredge and various bucket dredges.
The dipper dredge is basically a barge-mounted power shovel (Figure
3a). It is equipped with a power-driven ladder structure and operated
from a barge-type hull. A scoop-like bucket is firmly attached to the
ladder and is forcibly thrust into the bottom material to be removed.
Dipper dredges normally have a bucket capacity of 8 to 12 cubic yards
and a working depth of up to 50 feet. There is a great variability in
production rates, but 30 to 60 cycles per hour are common.
Customary use of the dipper dredge is for excavation of hard, com-
pacted materials, rock or other solid materials after blasting. Al-
though it can be used to remove most bottom sediments, the violent
scooping action of this type of equipment may cause considerable bottom
sediment disturbance and resuspension during any digging of fine-grained
material. In addition, a significant loss of the finer material will
occur from the open bucket during the hoisting process. Scow-type barges
are required to move the dredged material to a disposal area, and pro-
duction is relatively low when compared to cutterhead dredges. The
dipper dredge is not recommended for use in dredging fine grain or con-

taminated sediments.

Bucket dredges involve a crane which may be permanently or tempor-
arily barge mounted. If a wheeled or crawler type crane is employed, it
can work from shore or from a self-built temporary causeway. A drop-
able bucket on the end of a wire is used to excavate bottom material.

Different types of buckets can fulfill various types of dredging re-

216

SPUDS

3a.

@SPUDS

3b.

Figure 3. Dredging equipment, 3a Dipper dredge 3b bucket
dredge with clamshell.( Source: U.S. Army Corps
of Fn(Tineers, 1983
Z@

"A FRAME

DISCHARGE LINE

17 a n 7

SPUD

IV CUTTERHEAD

3c.

co HOPPERS
70 Q

PUMPS
DRAG

3d,.
@0

Figure 3 Cont ). 3c Hydraulic pipeline cutterhead dredgq.;
3d Self-propelled seagoing hopper dredge.

quirements. The most common buckets used are the clamshell and drag-
line types and can be quickly changed to suit operational requirements.
The clamshell is worked vertically and "grabs" the sediment, while the
dragline is worked horizontally and scoops up sediment (Figure 3b).
The material excavated is placed in scows or hopper barges that are
towed to the disposal areas. Bucket dredges range in capacity from 1 to
12 cubic yards. Twenty to thirty cycles per hour are typical, but large
variations exist in production rates because of the variability in depths
and materials being excavated. The effective working depth for a bucket
clamshell dredge is limited to about 100 feet and somewhat less for a
dragline.
Bucket dredges may be used to excavate most types of sea bed ma-
terials except for the most cohesive, consolidated sediments and solid
coral and rock. Bucket dredges usually excavate a heaped bucket of ma-
terial from off the bottom, but during hoisting turbulence washes away
part of the load. Once the bucket clears the water surface, additional
losses may occur through rapid drainage of entrapped water and slumping
of the material heaped above the rim. Even under ideal conditions, sub-

stantial losses of loose and fine sediments will usually occur. To
minimize the turbidity generated by a clamshell operation, watertight
buckets have been developed.
In contrast to the mechanical dredges, hydraulic sand and gravel
harvesting systems are a relatively recent innovation which first be-
came operational on a large scale in the early 1960's. The two most
prominent types used in coastal waters are the cutterhead-suction and
trailing suction hopper dredges. Both are capable of moving large

volumes of aggregate at a rapid extraction rate.
The cutterhead-suction dredge uses a spiral shaped cutter to force
its way through hard consolidated material including some coral but
excluding rock (Figure 3c). Once material is broken up by the hardened
teeth of the rotating cutterhead, it is sucked as a slurry (approximately
80 percent water) into the open mouth of the dredge by a suction pump.
Then, it is pumped to the shore emplacement or spoil area using a semi-
flexible floating pipeline or, less commonly, to an adjacent barge.

219

Operations of the cutterhead dredge are restricted to moderate sea
conditions, especially if a floating pipeline to a shoreline dredge
spoil discharge area is deployed. Such discharge pipes often range
from 8" to 36" in diameter. A 24" dredge can discharge approximately
1,500 cubic yards per hour, depending on the material, pump size, pipe
line distance, pipe-joint leakage factors, and elevation of the spoil

area above sea level.
The trailing-suction hopper dredge is unique among the various
dredge types in that it is a self-propelled, sea-going vessel, and it
makes sequential shallow cuts over a large area (Figure 3d). It func-
tions principally like a wet vacuum cleaner, by dragging a suction pipe
or dragarm across the bottom which is "trailing" from the dredging
vessel above. Material collected as a slurry is pumped into the ship's
hoppers and periodically transported to shore. Hopper dredges are self-
unloading. They can either dump the material in submarine storage pits
located nearshore to be used at a later date or pump the material direct-
ly ashore. One significant advantage of the hopper dredge is that it
allows operations in more exposed, heavier sea conditions due to the
flexible linkage between the trailing suction pipe and the ship.
Hopper dredges are classified according to hopper capacity: large-
class dredges have hopper capacities of 6,000 cubic yards or greater;
medium-class hopper dredges have hopper capacities of 2,000 to 6,000
cubic yards; and small-class hopper dredges have hopper capacities of
from less than 2,000 to 500 cubic yards. During dredging operations,
hopper dredges travel at a ground speed of from two to three mph and
can dredge in depths from about 10 to 80 feet. They are equipped with
twin propellers and twin rudders to provide the required maneuverability.
The comparative advantages and disadvantages of dredge types are

presented in Table 1.

220

Table 1. Comparison of dredge types commonly used for extraction of coastal area marine minerals.

DREDGES WORKING
DEPTH ADVANTAGES CONSTRAINTS
(in meters)

Dipper- 0-20 Can excavate bulky consolidated, High sediment discharge
(single open scoop hard materials (debris, rock, Low productivity
or bucket w/teeth coral) Requires calm sea
on leading edge) conditions

Bucket (Dragline)- 0-20 Low mobilization costs High sediment discharge
(single open flat Barge or shore develop- Low productivity
scoop, not illus- ment option Limited range
trated) Softer materials only

Bucket (Clamshell)- 0-40 High flexibility High sediment discharge
(double-sided close- Handles variable conditions Low productivity
able "bucket") Low mobilization costs Not suitable for hard
surfaces

Hydraulic/Cutter 0-30 High production capacity Requires calm sea
Head Suction Can work semi-consolidated conditions
materials (coral, algae Relatively shallow depths
sand, hard pan, clay) High mobilization costs

Hydraulic/Trailing- 6-30 High production capacity Requires softer uncon-
Hopper Suction Handles exposed conditions solidated bottoms
Self-propelled with hopper High mobilizations costs
dumping capacity Deep draft vessel
Sources: Euroconsult, 1981; Bhatt, 1979; Clark, 1977; U.S. Corp. of Engineers, 1971, 1973, 1978, 1983.

4. ENVIRONMENTAL CONTEXT
4.1 Coastal Dynamics
In order to understand the potential impacts associated with marine min-
ing it is helpful to summa'rize certain physical processes characteristic
of coastal areas. A more detailed presentation can be found in the
Coastal Erosion Case Study.
The coastal zone is a dynamic system where the land, air, sea and
human activity meet at a common high-energy interface. The major physi-
cal forces which drive the system are wind, waves, tides and currents
which in turn are generated by gravity, the rotational force of the earth
and solar radiation. One element in this system, the sand and other sed-
imentary material, exists in a continuous state of flux between erosion,
transport or deposition phases. To help understand sediment flux as it

pertains to sand, the concept of a "sand budget" was devised. Bowen and
Inman (1966) divided the budget into credits and debits, the net differ-

ence being evident on the shoreline as either deposition or erosion.
In temperate latitudes the primary sources of new beach sand sup-
plies are terrestrial material requiring river or stream transport prior
to coastal deposition. Supplies of beach sand attributable to terres-
trial origins may be augmented from offshore sources as well. On tropi-
cal coastlines, carbonate sands derived biologically from reefs and al-
gal flats in offshore and nearshore areas can equal or surpass terres-
trial sources. Carbonate sand precipitation from salt water also repre-
sents an additional source of sand for tropical beaches (Komar, 1976).
On the debit side, physical factors contributing to the erosion of a
beach include abrasion, chemical breakdown, wind and wave transport
(Figure 4).
In addition to these local inputs and outputs, the longshore trans-
port of sand is significant in many cases. Herbich (1975) defined lit-
toral (longshore) transport as the movement of sediment along the coastal
area by currents created mainly by waves and tides. Such transport is
primarily due to the presence of a longshore current formed by wave
trains breaking at an angle to a beach. Water "piles up" on the side of
the small angle formed between the wave and beach creating a current

222

LAND OCEAN

Cliff, Dune and Onshore-Offshore
Backshore Erosion Transport

Beach Replenishment fto* It Submarine Canyon

Rivers

@4
01
P,
A
r-1
on co
Dune and Backshore HI Dredging
Storage Ae E'l
Littoral Zone
i
Winds 00100011clcium Carbonate
(supply and deflatOieon) (production and loss)

Inlets and Lagoons 10 Hydrogenous Deposition
Including Overwash 00

oeom
Mining Beach Replenishment

Longshore Currents
Tidal Currents
Longshore Winds

Figure 4. Sources of credits and debits to the
littoral sand budget (Source: Modified
after U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, 1974).

223

transporting water parallel to the coast in the same direction as the

angle. Wind driven longshore currents when combined with wave action may
have much the same effect (Komar, 1976).

The rate of sand transport is generally correlated with the angle
and height of wave attack as measured from the beach. The greater the
angle and height, the higher the rate. Conversely, littoral wave trains
breaking more or less parallel to the beach result in little or no sedi-
ment transport and signify a relatively static situation. The volume of
transported sediment depends on several factors including the velocity
of flow, sediment characteristics and the slope of the bottom.
Given the importance of wind and wave forces in driving coastal
processes, it is clear that seasonal variation will significantly affect
beach dynamics. Whereas solitary storms passing near a coastline have
been known to create or destroy entire beaches and sand cays (Stoddart,
1963), other seasonal changes are less drastic and more regimented.
Beaches on northwestern United States coasts are typical of the latter,
where summer shorelines characterized by sand beaches and wide back berm
features contrast dramatically with the pebble and boulder beaches of the
winter. This transformation is caused by the seasonal offshore transport
of sand to submarine bars during the winter months due to high energy
wave conditions. Under calmer conditions, sand is retransported onshore
once again covering the rubble and boulder beach area before the cycle is
repeated (Bascom, 1964).
While this seasonal sand transport pattern affects whole coastlines,
there are localized sand transport patterns or "cells" which differ sig-
nificantly in their characteristics. Inman and Chamberlain (1960) iden-
tified discrete sand transport cells along the southern California coast,
each cell consisting of a beach situated between two rocky promentories.
Beach sand, originating from upland areas near the first promentory, is
transported "down current" where, upon reaching the second promentory,
it leaves the cell as it is transported offshore.
A second type of littoral cell has been described (Inman, et.al.,
1963) for a carbonate beach site on the eastern coast of Kauai, Hawaii.
Offshore reefs and reef flats are periodically interrupted by shallow

224

depressions or channels running perpendicular to the shoreline. These
channels (most in-flowing, a few out-flowing) serve as traps for cal-
careous sands originating from the reef. Incoming swell drives sand
closer to shore, serving to replenish the beach. Sand reaching the
shore is subsequently moved by longshore transport to eventually be lost
to the beach/reef system upon reaching a deeper inlet with a seaward
flowing bottom current. Storage sinks for sand involved in the process
can either be temporary (like beaches, dunes, sand bars and cays), semi-

permanent features like inshore lagoons, or permanent repositories like
offshore canyons.

4.2 Biological Impacts.
Coral and sand mining activity involves an adverse impact on coastal or
marine habitats and biological communities either directly or indi-
rectly. Operational design, scale and duration of the activity are very
significant factors as each materials handling phase--extraction, trans-
port, and emplacement--can generate undesireable effects. Biological
communites on the sea bed or lagoon/bay floor, in the water column above,
or on the beach at the site of the emplacement or effluent run-off (if
"hydraulic" dredging is involved) are usually affected. Organisms
occurring at some distance from the mining sites may also be threatened

since water-borne fine sediments associated with one or more of the

extractive phases can be transported considerable distances down-
current before finally settling out.
Additionally, the indirect biological or environmental effects as-
sociated with marine mining activities are often more complex and of
greater significance than the direct impact of removing relatively small
areas or volumes of material from the sea bed or beach system. These

include:

reduction of feeding and respiratory efficiencies and induced
mortalities in bottom-dwelling, non-mobile organisms, such as
bivalve molluscs and corals, attributed to increased sedimen-

tation;
reduction of primary productivity (i.e., p hotosynthesis)

225

due to reduced light transmission caused by turbidity in the
water columns;
introduction of abnormal volumes of organic material and
nutrients, increasing biological oxygen demand and, in turn,
reducing oxygen levels and productivity;
re-introduction of toxic substances uncovered by mining acti-
vities in the water column, posing the risk of incorporation
into the food web;
inadvertent destruction of adjacent habitat critical to life

cycles of certain organisms;
disruption of migratory routes of motile marine organisms.
With few exceptions, a concentration of re-suspended sediments and
their later deposition are the primary agents causing the biological
effects cited above. Point sources of sediment vary with the existing
method of extraction. For all marine dredging strategies, concentra-
tions of re-suspended material may occur at the bottom of the water
column where the cutterhead or bucket stirs it up. Mechanical dredges
such as the clamshell, bucket or dipper also create a "rain" of particu-
lates in the water column as material is brought to the surface. Hydrau-
lic dredges also lose some sediment in pumping the material ashore when
floating discharge pipe joints flex and leak due to wave action or faulty

design.
Fine sediments can be lost in any barge loading process, a pro-
blem common to all dredges discharging into self-contained or along-side
barges. However, hydraulic cutterhead dredges which use suction to draw
up a water-sand slurry to be pumped ashore are the worst contributors as
finer silt and clay sized components are often discharged at three dif-
ferent locations--the excavation site, along the discharge pipe, and
at the spoil area ashore. This problem can be mitigated if the spoil
area is "diked" and settling ponds with weirs (small dams) are employed
to reduce the "fines" carried back into coastal waters by the effluent.
Any dredging operation piping into a series of large settling ponds
(low energy level, long residence or settling time) is going to have less
suspended sediment in the final overflow to the sea than a dredge pumping

226

into a series of small hoppers or barges (high energy level, brief
residence time). However, fine sediments discharging from a mobile
hopper dredge or anchored cutterhead tend to be dispersed by current
action over a large area, whereas shore based dredge spoil areas tend to
concentrate discharges of fine sediments in one coastal location. For
land fill purposes, the grain size of dredged material is not critical,
but for construction sand or beach nourishment only a small amount of the
very fine sediment can be accepted (see Section 7.1).
The degree of impact from sand mining-induced sedimentation is
dependent on the sensitivity of the exposed community to stress as well
as the quantity and size characteristics of sediment and rate of sedimen-
tation. Non-motile benthic communities which.filter their food are gen-
erally the most vulnerable to high rates of sedimentation. Coral reefs
and marine grass beds are two tropical marine communities which are
particularly sensitive to both high rates of sedimentation and abnormally
high turbidity which reduces light penetration (Table 2).
In fact, sediments deposited on some coral species are likely to
kill them within only a few days if the layer of material is thick enough
and within weeks even if it is thin but continually replaced by recurr-
ing deposits (Johannes, 1975). Hubbard and Pocock (1972) demonstrated
that coral species exhibited varying tolerances to sediment size and
attributed this ability to the respective coral polyp's size and inherent
filtering ability.

Other effects on corals attributed to sedimentation include reduced

rates in growth (possibly due to declines in photosynthetic rates of the
symbiotic zooxanthellae, Goreau and Goreau, 1959) and reduced species
diversity (Brock, et.al., 1966). The quantity and size characteristics
of sediment--and thus its biological impact--vary with distance from the
point of suspension in the water column, which in turn is dependent on
current velocity. The greater the current speed, the farther heavier
sediments are carried from the source. Conversely, low velocities usu-
ally mean only finer sediments will be carried outside of the immediate
area of the mining site. Particle shape can also affect distance
traveled. For example, plate-like, flat or irregularly-shaped calcareous

227

Table 2. Documented stresses, effects and impacts from mining activi-
ties to marine grass and coral reef communities.

a. Marine Grass Communities.

STRESS EFFECT IMPACTS REFERENCE

Sedimentation Suffocation Reduced distri- vanEepoel
bution (1971)
Reduced producti- Odum (1963)
vity
Reduced light Reduced density Thayer (1975)
transmission

Resuspension of Increased BOD* Reduced density Thayer (1975)
subsurface
materials
Changes in Reduced density Thayer (1975)
Redox**
potential

Reintroduction Reduced density Thayer (1975)
of toxics

b. Coral Reef Communities.

STRESS EFFECT IMPACTS REFERENCE

Sedimentation Suffocation Death Brock (1966)

Reduced light Reduced growth Goreau and
transmission rate Goreau (1959)

Reduced depth Goreau and
range Goreau (1959)

Reduced species Brock (1966)
density

Increased BODOI Reduced species Brock (1966)
diversity

Modification of Alter current Reduced larval Hubbard (1972)
reef topography regime settling/sur-
vival rates

Weakening of Toppling of Death Maragos (1982)
substrate under- corals
pinnings
Biological oxygen demand
Reduction - oxygen

228

fragments derived from Halimeda (a calcareous alga) travel farther at the
same velocities than round sand particles of the same weight characteris-
tics. This may seem like a trivial factor, but it can dimensionally
affect the area of corals damaged or killed by nearby dredging activity.
Additional environmental effects commonly associated with the resus-
pension of sediments are increased biological oxygen demand (BOD) and
the re-introduction of toxic contaminents and clays into the water
column. When small organic particles in various stages of decomposition
buried by overburden are again exposed to an oxygen-rich, sea water en-
vironment, the rate of decay is accelerated. The result of this decaying
process is a local reduction of dissolved oxygen. When significant
quantities of these organics are involved (especially in coastal embay-
ments and lagoons with poor water circulation), oxygen levels can be
reduced to a point detrimental to sessile and pelagic organisms. Simi-
larly, when buried layers of clay are uncovered by dredging, there is a
risk of continuing resuspension of very fine material from the newly
exposed deposit. Continued resuspension of fine sediments in the vicin-
ity of coral reefs may prevent substrate consolidation and subsequent
recolonization by many benthic organisms (especially the planktonic
larvae of corals, as well as other reef invertebrates) which require

hard bottom to establish themselves.

These impacts are significant in evaluating differences between
available dredging technologies. Most mechanical and hydraulic dredges
working from anchored positions (Figure 5a) leave a borrow pit or
dredge hole (actually a depression) as a result of the extraction activ-
ity. If the pits are deep enough and occur in waters characterized by
reduced circulation, they act as sinks or traps for fine particulate
matter both during and after dredging. When organics are involved, these
pits often become severely oxygen depleted; further, due to the trapping
of fines, their bottoms are characterized by a semi-fluid anoxic sed-

ment, with perpetually turbid water, which inhibits colonization and
leaves the pits as semi-permanent features of the local sea bed. Some
marine sand dredge pits, as in the U.S. Virgin Islands and St. Lucia,
have not recovered after forty years (vanEepoel, et.al., 1971 and

229

ANCHOR DREDGING

SAND

Figure 5a.

TRAILER DREDGING

Figure 5b.

Figure 5. Two common approaches to hydraulic dredging, resulting
in very different kinds of benthic impacts (Source:
ICES, 1975).

230

Deane, et.al., 1973).
Turbidity and oxygen depletion can be ameliorated by dredging in
deeper water with better circulation where currents and waves can more
readily transport coarser sand, by dredging shallower borrow pits, by
filling deep borrow pits with solid nontoxic waste materials to provide a
hard substrate for re-colonization, or using a hopper trailer dredge
which leaves long but shallow channels during the sand extraction or
harvesting process (Figure 5b).

4.3 Physical Impacts
Marine mining activity, whether on the shoreline or on the adjacent
submerged shelf, incurs a risk of altering physical processes (especially
beach dynamics and coastal current and wind driven wave and swell pat-
terns) which may adversely affect coastal systems. Even slight modifica-
tions in nearshore bottom contours by small scale long term or large
scale short term dredging activity may induce slight changes in wave
height. These changes result in significant changes in delivered energy
impinging upon adjacent beaches, reefs, sea grass beds, and other shore-
line areas. What often follows next is a slow erosion, slumpage or

continuing "draw down" of existing beach sand, to refill the adjacent

dredge hole or borrow pit that was too close to shore. Shore based sand

mining that reduces beach berm and dune mass and height also poses risks

of increased storm wave damage to inland areas and reduces the supply of
naturally stored sand available for equilibration of the system.

4.4 Toxic Sediments

Another consideration in assessing alternative approaches, optimum

mining site and mining technologies is the possibility of re-introducing
previously buried toxic substances into the environment. This is espec-
ially true where mining occurs in areas adjacent to large urban centers,
industrial sea ports or dump sites. Many toxic materials are non-bio-
degradable and as such continue to persist in the sedimentary environ-
ment. Nearshore bottom areas act as more or less benign sinks for these
and other pollutants where they become smothered by subsequent sediment

231

deposition. When these polluted bottom sediments are disturbed by
mining or other similar activity, they become re-exposed and open up
the risk of pollutant re-introductions into the water column at concen-

trations higher than when they were originally introduced. Incorporation
of pollutants into local food webs is possible, creating the potential

for reaching toxic levels in any of several critical organisms including
man. One solution to this problem is to relocate any dredging operation
to an alternative, nearby site where prior core borings have established
the absence of buried layers of organic or silty sediment, toxic or

otherwise.

232

5. EXAMPLES

The foregoing overview established the physical and biological context in
which most sand and coral mining activities take place, without account-
ing for a "human intervention" factor in the "sand budget ledger".
Such intervention can take the form of mining or dredging (a debit) or
nourishment (a credit). Similarly, biological processes can also take
the form of debits (die off, loss of productivity) and credits (habitat
creation). Failure to account for these dynamics in the planning and
management of mining activities may result in significant, inadvertent

modification to coastal and nearshore environments. The indirect or

deferred economic costs associated with these modifications, as demon-

straLed by the following case studies, can be considerable. In each
case, inadequate attention to project design, environmental planning
and monitoring resulted in serious damage, often with significant

economic costs.

5.1 Coral Harvesting and Mining
One of the utilitarian functions of living fringing and patch-type coral
reefs, in situ dead coral reefs, sea grass beds, beaches and coastal
rubble, and sand or lagoonal-shelf deposits is to buffer adjacent

tropical shorelines. These formations create a natural breakwater
system, protecting coastlines from attack by high energy, storm-driven.
waves and swells. When this "breakwater" effect is diminished by natural
or man-induced removal or degradation, incoming oceanic waves and swells,
occasionally heightened by abnormally high storm tides, can pass unim-
peded to break directly on the shoreline. This can accelerate normal
erosional processes and raise the risk of severe damage to human life,
coastal villages, roads, tourist facilities, beaches and harbors.

Given the role of coral reefs in providing storm buffering, there
are sound economic reasons to draw up environmental guidelines for mining

coral and coral sand resources. The following three site examples

illustrate this point.

233

5.1.1. Bali, Indonesia
Sengkidu Beach is on the east coast of Bali, fringed by a barrier coral
reef lying approximately 150 meters offshore. The reef was mined for
construction block and coral material to use in the production of lime;
and subsequently Praseno and Sukarno (1977), employing remote sensing
techniques, identified zones of coral depletion and demonstrated cause
and effect linkages between mining practices and shoreline erosion. They
calculated that approximately 100 meters of beach had eroded over a

relatively short period of "some decades." Beach loss at the time of the
study was beginning to translate into economic losses, and adjacent
plantations and lands bordering a nearby rural village were increasingly
at risk (Figure 6).

5.1.2 Sri Lanka
The island of Sri Lanka (formerly Ceylon) (Figure 7) provides another

example of modern coral mining practices which have resulted in signifi-
cant economic costs. Coastal erosion there is not a new phenomenon-but
has been cited in references dating back to the pre-Christian era (Swan,
1974). Although some long-term erosion occurs on the eastern and north-

western coasts, it is most acute along Sri Lanka's southwestern coast,
attributed, in part, to the coastline's continuing adjustment to the
physical forces associated with the southwest monsoon (Swan, 1965).
High population densities have also created severe pressures on Sri

Lanka's coastal and coral reef and sand resources. Human activities

which have adversely affected coastal systems are (1) residential and
recreational development; (2) salt evaporation pans (salterns); (3)
mineral extraction; (4) coastal land put into cultivation; and (5)
fishing (Amerasinghe, 1978).
The activity most harmful to shoreline and beach stability is the
widespread mining of coral and coral sands for lime production, cement
manufacture, and other purposes. Coral material is harvested from both
coastal quarries and offshore using dynamite, crowbars and boats. Ero-
sion is further accelerated by mining natural replenishment sands for

use as construction aggregate, for lime production and as placers

234

J?o #or

Not destroyed

Partially deatfOyodreef

....... Totally destroyed reef

Eroded beach

Settlement
7

0 N

Ox
6 Ll

00m

Figure 6. Coral destruction and subsequent beach
erosion in Seng-kidu Beach, Bali, Indonesia.
(Source: Modified after Praseno and
Sukarno, 1977.)

235

Scale
0 80

Kilometres

Trincomalee

Kalpitiya

SRI LANKA

Negombo

COLOMBO Pottuvil

Beruwela

Hikkaduwa
Galle
Kottegoda
Dondra

Figure 7. Sri Lanka, showing location of Hikkaduwa coastal erosion
site.

236

(ilmenite, monazite, rutile) (Pattiaratchi, 1964).
The net effect of these practices combined with existing physical

conditions has been to create zones of critical coastal erosion through-
out the southwestern coastal regions of Sri Lanka.
One such zone is Hikkaduwa, some twenty miles north of Galle
(Figure 7). This area is characterized by a low-lying coastline under-
lain and fringed by a coral reef. Swan (1974) suggested the area was
somewhat erosion resistant until 1915 when a storm cut off the headland

at Telwatte Point from the mainland. Despite gradual losses of beaches
in the area, the existence of offshore coral reef systems played a miti-
gating role by moderating the seasonal forces contributing to erosional
processes. However, concentrated exploitation of the offshore coral
reefs have degraded the coastal defenses resulting in accelerated ero-
sion along a six mile stretch of coastline from which an estimated
75,000 tons of coral is mined annually (Amerasinghe, 1978 and Soysa,
et.al., 1982). According to Linsky (Valencia, 1981), the resulting
loss of beach from direct wave action has been estimated at 300
meters over 50 years with a net dollar loss of over US $3 million"
(Figure 8). In response to the problem, the government has con-
structed an expensive series of groins with little success as beach

IJ,@*1*',.,-,J1 Eroded shoreline Area

Rocky Islets

1973 Coastline

1850 Coastline

Hikkaduwa

.9- 077,

ars

Figure 8. Erosional changes in Sri Lanka's southwest coast, adjacent
to Hikkaduwa. (Source: Modified after Swan, 1974.)

237

areas remain exposed to the unmoderated influences of offshore wave
attack (Swan, 1974).

5.1.3 Tarawa, Kiribati
The construction of expensive restorative structures to reverse erosional
impacts to beach systems is not unique to Sri Lanka. These trends are
also illustrated by the Tarawa Atoll site example, a reverse "L" shaped
assemblage of very small islands situated in the former Gilbert Islands,
now named the Republic of Kiribati (Figure 9). Situated on the equator
in the central-Pacific, Kiribati has a population of 56,000, concentrated
on sixteen atolls with a combined land area of only 280 square kilo-

meters.

The Tarawa Atoll has a total land area of only 21 square kilo-
meters, divided into rural and urban concentrations in the north and
south portions respectively. The lagoon opens to the west, measures 350
square kilometers and is enclosed to the east and south by a chain of
small, low-lying islands characterized by sloping beaches, limestone
rock outcrops and mangroves (Bolton, 1982). Offshore, turtle grass beds
and numerous coral patch reefs (living and dead) are scattered throughout
the area before the coral barrier reef is met at the atoll's edge (Zann,
1982).

As in most atolls, Tarawa has a high coastline length to land ratio
signifying a scarcity of land. This is particularly critical in south
Tarawa where a high birth rate and in-migration from Kiribati's other

populated atolls have resulted in a dramatic contrast in human densities
between the north and the south (144/km2 vs. 2,700/km2).
Stress imposed by human activity is especially critical for the
atoll's marine resources because of their significant economic utiliza-

tion: fishing, dredging, breakwater and causeway construction, waste
disposal, and coral and sand extraction.

Mining of coral is a traditional activity in Kiribati. Ironically
one of the primary uses of coral is for the construction of barriers to
protect shorelines from erosion. Howarth (1982) in a survey of South
Tarawa's two major islands (Betio and Bairiki) identified eighteen

238

0
160 1700

&qUatoL-
-($@713il'b'e'fto Islands
/'BUARIK I

Solomon
Islands

Lagoon edge
TARATAI
Fij i

T09ga

Reef edge
VP
v

LAGOON

TABITEUE

0"
n
BONRIKI
IRPORT
TA.AEA

BIKE 15EU
@fBETIO El

3 A 5k@

EREKE
BAIRIKI

Figure 9. Tarawa Atoll, Republic of Kiribati (Gilbert Islands).
(Source: Modified after Howarth, 1982.)

239

coastal protection zones using coral and/or concrete blocks enclosed by
heavy wire mesh baskets (gabions) for shoreline protection.
Coral mining and other man-induced impacts on the coral reefs have
produced major environmental problems. In a recent survey of corals in
or near the islands of Betio and Bairiki, Zann (1982) found no living
coral cover greater than forty percent cover of the bottom, and most
sites on the lagoon side indicated ten percent or less cover. One
result of the presence of a diminished living reef (partially created by
the mining practices) has been increased erosion undermining coastal
protective structures and creating new sites at risk. In a second irony,
once coral populations were depleted, the traditional source of coastal
protective structures (gabions) disappeared, and alternative sources
of materials were required.
Howarth (1982) compared the number of gabions employed between
September 1978 and August 1982 (Table 3a) and calculated that approxi-
mately 110 additional gabions a year were being built for coastal protec-
tion (Table 3b). Based on the price of the coral substitute, concrete
blocks at 85 cents per block, the approximate cost for a four cubic meter
gabion was US$213 (Table 3c). At the average annual production rate for
gabions this represented an annual expenditure of US$23,430/year for
preventative coastal erosion structure production (Table 3d).

Table 3a. Gabions known to be erected between September, 1978 and
February, 1982, indicating the increased need for coastal
protective structures. (Source: Howarth, 1982.)

September/October 1978 February 1982
Coastal Defense Zone 2xlxl 2xlxO.5 2xlxl 2xlxO.5

Betio 216 69 565 114

Bairiki 30 0 29 31

Total Gabions 246 69 594 145

Equivalent 2 x I x 1
meter gabions 281 666

240

Table 3b. Average number of gabions constructed annually in South
Tarawa Atoll. (Source: Howarth, 1982.)

Total No. of Gabions Total No. of Gabions Average No. of Gabions
in February 1982 - in October 1978 Constructed
Interim Period of Time Year

606 - 281
3.5 110 gabions/year

Table 3c. Costs of constructing a 2m x 2m x Im gabion
with concrete block in US $. (Source:
Howarth, 1982.)

1982

Basket 83
Labor 12
Blocks @ 0.85 cents 106
Plant Hire 12

TOTAL COST PER BASKET US$213 (approximately)

Table 3d. Annual capital expenditure on gabion construction in South
Tarawa Atoll. (Source: Howarth, 1982.)

Ave. No. of Gabions x Cost per basket Total annual capital expenditure
for gabion construction

110 x $213 $23,430/year

241

5.2 Beach Sand Mining

5.2.1 St. Lucia

In many tropical countries, coral exploitation for construction block and
lime production is overshadowed by mining coastal sand for aggregate on
an even larger scale. This practice is expecially prevalent in develop-
ing countries where scarce technical and financial resources prohibit
the exploitation of inland sand deposits. St. Lucia, an island situated
in the West Indies, is one such area where mining sand and aggregate from
beaches has been a convenient and traditional practice.
Vigie Beach, located on the northwest leeward coast of St. Lucia, is
a small crescent-shaped beach measuring 20-30 meters in width and extend-
ing approximately 5,000 feet between two basaltic headlands (Figure 10).
No rivers enter the area, and the principal sources of sand appear to be
nearby offshore calcareous algal and fringing coral reef communities
supplemented by incidental erosion from the adjacent headlands (Edmunds,
1983). Waves approach from the north/northeast and vary in strength
between seasons, driving an offshore-onshore sand transport cell. Long-
shore transport appears to be insignificant. These characteristics
suggest that the beach system is relatively self-contained and dependent
on sand in the system rather than on continuous replenishment from
outside, upstream sources to replace losses, whether natural or man-made.
Due to the proximity to Castries, St. Lucia's capital, Vigie Beach
and the narrow low lying neck of land to Vigie Point have been exposed to
a variety of uses. For example, the city cemetery is located immediately
behind the beach. Vigie Airport, running diagonally behind the cemetery,
was built in 1943 and subsequently expanded to its present length of
5,700 feet. The only access road to the airport terminal parallels the
beach (running between the cemetery and the airport runway) and also
provides the access to Vigie Point. Vigie Beach has been a traditional
recreational area for local residents of Castries, and since the early
1960's has served two major hotels, one at either end of the beach (Fi-
gure 10).

In addition to these activities, the beach has also served as the
primary source of sand for the city and its citizens. There is little

242

VIGIE BAY

couples
Hotel

t
t
tl
otetl
01
..@Red Lion
Hotel

Votos
VIGIE

40N
CASTRIES

r
0
ST. LUCIA

CASTRIES HARBOUR

0 5
0 250 1
miles
meters CASTRIES 610W

Figure 10. Location map of Vigie Beach, St. Lucia, showing interrelationship of threatened areas
and facilities because of excessive beach sand mining.

data to indicate beach mining was a problem in Vigie prior to 1948. Up
until that date, domestic and commercial building construction was based
on lumber as a basic material, and there was little need for aggregate.
However, in 1948 a catastrophic fire destroyed a large portion of Cas-
tries and in the subsequent reconstruction period concrete block and
reinforced poured concrete replaced lumber as a building material.
Vigie Beach became the principal source of sand for cement block manu-
facture and concrete. Despite early indications of beach erosion, sand
mining continued unimpeded until 1963. By that year the condition of
Vigie had deteriorated to the point that the government introduced a
Beach Protection Ordinance which placed the mining of sand under licenses
administered by the Ministry of Communications and Works. The law suf-
fered from several weaknesses: it exempted the officers of the Crown,
the Castries Town Council (one of the primary users) and the neighboring
village councils; it only applied to Vigie and one other beach; and,
finally, it was inadequately enforced. Sand mining continued unabated
at Vigie Beach even though it was officially illegal for some users.
Exceptionally heavy swells during the winters of 1963/64 and 1964/65
exacerbated the erosion process which was further accelerated by continu-
ing illegal sand mining. Visible narrowing and deterioration of Vigie
Beach, and other St. Lucia beaches also locally mined for construction
sand, led to public outcry and to the passage of the Beach Protection
Act of 1967. This Act, still technically in force today, placed the
administrative responsibility for all sand mining under the Director
of Public Works (DPW). By doing so, the new legislation effectively
broadened the scope of the 1963 Act while providing a mechanism to
establish volume and time limits on beach mining activities.
Despite the passage of the 1967 legislation and its ostensibly more
stringent constraints regarding sand extraction at Vigie Beach (and
elsewhere), regression continued and was accelerated by the unusual
winter storms of 1967/68 and by ongoing, although reduced, illegal sand

extraction.
The potential economic consequences of continued beach regression
began to appear critical. The estimated volume of sand mined from the

244

Vigie site during the period 1960-1970 had totalled 110,000 cubic yards
(Table 4a). An analysis of aerial photographs between the period 1941-
1970 indicated beach regression had reached 80 feet (Table 4b). A com-
parison of documented erosion (lost beach area) and estimated sand
removal (Table 4c) suggests that beach recession was caused entirely by
mining of sand for the building industry (Deane, et.al., 1973). By 1970,
an estimated 10.1 million dollars of real estate alone was at risk (Table
5a). In addition to loss of land value, there were other significant

issues. The city of Castries was threatened with loss of its airport
access road and its principal cemetery, the city and country were threat-
ened with a loss of tourist revenues derived from visitor use of two

major Vigie Beach hotels, and the local population was faced with the

loss of a traditional recreational site.

In response to these concerns and in an attempt to reduce the rate
of beach and beach berm erosion threatening both the cemetery and the
only access road to the airport and Vigie Point, the government elected
to construct a 300 foot long strip of gabion mattresses (a system of
rectangular wire mesh baskets filled with stone) on the face of the
eroding beach berm near the road. This emergency measure cost approxi-
mately US$25,000--a not inconsiderable sum in 1970 for a small island
government with many other public development priorities.
By 1973, the beach front of the Red Lion Hotel (at the southern end
of Vigie Beach) had eroded down to a pebble and cobble beach, resulting
in a reduction in tourism and lost revenues. In an attempt to restore
the beach, the government used rock from a nearby quarry to build a
rubble stone groin adjacent to the hotel at a cost of approximately
US$5,000.
Three years later abnormally heavy sea swells from a winter storm
overwashed the diminished beach and flooded the Couples Hotel. Contin-
ued flooding prompted the government to build a new set of gabion mat-
tresses costing another US$5,000 on the eastern end of the beach. As the
situation continued to deteriorate the government recognized that the
.1 patchwork" strategy was ineffective and temporary, so another approach
was needed. The new strategy was offshore sand mining for beach nourish-

245

Table 4a. Estimates of sand mined from Vigie Beach, St. Lucia
(1960 - 1970). (Source: Deane, et.al., 1973.)

LOCATION OF ESTIMATED VOLUME OF SAND MINED (Cubic Yards)
SAND SOURCE
1960-62 1962-65 1966-68 1969-70 TOTAL

-Vigie Beach 70,000 35,000 3,000 2,000 110,000

Table 4b. Beach loss from erosion at Vigie Beach, St. Lucia
(1941 1970). (Source: Deane, et.al., 1973.)

BAY STATION COASTAL EROSION (Ft.) AVE BEACH LOSS PER YR.
1941-51 1941-66 1941-70 (1941-1970) (Ft.)

1 16 65 80 2.66 ft.

Vigie 2 0 48 50 1.66 ft.

3 14 54 54 1.80 ft.

Table 4c. Camparison budget of sand losses, Vigie Beach, St. Lucia.
(Source: Deane, et.al., 1973.)

Estimate of Sand EROSION
LOCATION Used By 1941-1970
Building Industry
(1960-1970) (Cu. Yds.) (Cu. Yds.)

-Vigie Beach 110,000 104,000

246

Table 5a. Current value of real estate at risk due to Vigie Beach
erosion. (Source: Edmunds, 1983.)

TYPE OF REAL ESTATE VALUE (US $)

Hotel

Red Lion $ 2,000,000

Couples 3,500,000

Other

Public Road 384,615

Vigie Airport:
Runway Costs 2,115,305
Buildings 576,923
Land 1,538,461
TOTAL . . . . . . . $10,115,384

Table 5b. Estimated costs of protective/restorative activities to
protect Vigie Beach and property at risk from the threat
posed by coastal erosion. (Source: Edmunds, 1983.)

Estimated
Activity Location Date cost (us $)

Gabion Mattress Adjacent to Public Road 1970 $ 25,000

Stone Groin Red Lion Hotel 1973 5,000

Gabion Mattress Couples Hotel 1976 5,000

Beach Nourishment Couples Hotel/Cemetery 1980 434,245

247

ment, selected in part because of the temporary presence of a large
Jamaican-owned suction dredge working in Castries Harbor. The scope of
the beach replenishment project was limited by government access to ex-
ternal funding which in the end amounted to US$434,000. By mid-May of
1980 the work had been completed, and a total of 289,000 cubic yards of
sand was deposited on the beach in a zone extending from the Couples
Hotel 1,600 feet to the southwest, building up the area adjacent to the
cemetery which was most seriously threatened by erosion.
Although no data exist to determine the effects of dredging on
offshore algal and coral communities, there was evidence that a consider-
able portion of the new beach sand put in place washed out subsequent to
emplacement, a process attributed to "fines winnowing" (Edmunds, 1983).
Total investment of public funds to protect and restore Vigie Beach
following long term beach sand extraction activities was estimated to be
US$469,245 (Table 5b). Since sand cost US$1.87 per yard in 1980 to place
on the beach, the overall restoration costs of US$469,245 represents
slightly more than twice the adjusted market value of sand previously
removed, legally or illegally. It was a costly lesson in beach dynamics
and resource management. Unfortunately, the beach berm is still being
under cut, and beach sand draw down continues although perhaps at a
slower pace than previously recorded.
There is a further irony to the situation stemming from the exis-
tence of large but as yet undeveloped pumice "sand" deposits in St.
Lucia, a volcanic island. Up until recently, these resources, which
are relatively close to Castries, have been rejected as too costly to
develop (primarily costs associated with an access road) and because
greater care is required to mix cement when lighter pumice sand is used.
Nevertheless, the events detailed above contributed to the establishment
of a Regional Beach Erosion Control Project, which undertook the testing
of pumice as an alternative source for aggregate. Upon finding that
pumice blocks were structurally superior to those made with beach sand,
the government began considering greater use of the resource, and an
experimental project is underway using pumice as a substitute for beach
sando The extraction of beach sand at Vigie has ceased, but the future

248

of the beach itself remains in doubt. It was a costly lesson.

5.2.2 Puerto Rico

In contrast to the leeward beach situation at Vigie in St. Lucia, many
windward or more exposed insular and continental shorelines function
differently. With high energy beach systems, they exhibit very different
kinds of sand budgets, higher onshore-offshore sand and rubble exchange
rates, and large scale sand sinks or reservoirs of material behind the

beach itself.

Sand blown from exposed, generally windward beach foreshores and
berms often develops into sand dune systems behind the berm crest itself.
Salt-tolerant vegetation subsequently takes root and helps stabilize
these sand dunes. Dunes, in turn, serve both as a secondary barrier
protecting inland areas against seasonal storm waves impinging on the

beach and as a reservoir of sand for the beach itself when it is attacked
by storm waves, swells and tides generated by hurricanes or cyclones
(Figure 11).

High
Dune Water Low
Line Line Waterline

Dunes Toreshore
Inland
Berm (Light (Dark in Wetted
Area
Dry) Zone)

Water

AN D -

Figure 11. Idealized cross-section showing beach, dune line,
and water line. (Source: Nichols and Cerco, 1983.)

249

Unfortunately, dune systems are also easily accessible, naturally
stock-piled sources from which semi-sorted, pre-washed sand is readily
obtained. Quite often, this happens without a formal government permit
and with little regard for environmental consequences.
An instructive example of this exists on the north coast of Puerto
Rico and has been addressed recently in an intensive policy and manag-
ement study which focused on three major dune sand mining areas on the
more exposed Atlantic coast of the island (Nichols and Cerco, 1983).
Sites were selected by the Puerto Rico Department of NaLural Resources as
the most representative heavily mined areas (Figure 12).

Construction of a major international airport for the island east of
its capital city of San Juan at Isla Grande in the 1950's required enor-
mous volumes of fill. Some of the material was taken from nearby Playa
de las Tres Palmetas at Carolina, east of the airport site. Within a few
years, high levels of erosion were reported for the Carolina beach area.
During the 1960's and early 1970's the Hatillo beach area to the west
also experienced an intense large scale removal of dune sand, some by
permit and some illegally. In the 1970's the Isabella beach dune areas
were also harvested for large volumes of sand. Again, some mining was
by permit; some was not. The justification for the dune/beach sand
mining was always "development" and the long term impact remained an
unknown--at least until the mid-seventies when studies by government
resource managers and technical consultants (see below) suggested limits
to sand extraction quantities were required to prevent further damange

to Puerto Rico's sand beaches and dune systems.
The Environmental Quality Board of Puerto Rico raised the issue of

excessive sand mining and long term sand resource planning as early as
1971 (PREQB, Annual Report, 1972). Preliminary guidelines for sand ex-
traction in Puerto Rico were provided by one consultant (Hernandez-Avila)
as early as 1973 based mainly on qualitattve observations giving insights
into sedimentary processes active in the dunes. Noticeable effects of
storm waves on beach erosion and alteraLloris of (lune height and width at
Playa de las Tres Palmitas, Carolina by a sand extraction episode were
recorded by Cintron and Pool (1976). The problem of dune protection and

250

......... Isabela
Hatillo
......... ............ .. -.100. Carol ina
30 N ...... ... ....
..... ..... X. ...........
. .............. ........
.....................

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... . . . . . . . . . .
0

. ... . . . . . . .
. . . . . .. . . . . . . : - , * " , * ,
......... . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .*
. . . . . . ....... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
..... . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Escotio
X.
.... ....... .......
..... .....
deArenos
.......... ...
........ ...... .. ..............
............

.................. ... ..... . . ...........
78. 00@ N

........ ?bo Rojo.. .
Dune Erosion
10 0 20 k.
0 San Juan 10 0 20 30.

1 66-100,w

Figure 12. Location of dune erosion sites on the north coast of Puerto Rico
(Source: Modified from Nichols and Cerco, 1983).

sand extraction was subsequently documented by NOAA under Puerto Rico's
Coastal Zone Management Program in 1978 (NOAA, 1978). Two years later,
the history and magnitude of sand extraction and estimates of Puerto
Rico's total sand resources were provided by Castillo and Cruz (1980);
the hazard of coastal flooding was documented in a government study
(PRDNR, 1980); and three pertinent sand dune management studies from
outside Puerto Rico also became available (Armon, 1980; Cullen and Bird,
1980; and Gares, et.al., 1980).
Due to increasing concern expressed by resource managers and plan-
ners over the growing evidence of impacts attributable to excessive sand
extraction, the Puerto Rico Department of Natural Resources began to
assemble all the available data needed to define the dimensions of the
problem and to establish both a technical and policy based solution.

This took time, in part because as in most sand resource management
matters the government had to address not only traditional, ongoing and
new kinds of legitimate and illegal sand uses but also had to project

future needs and assess those needs within the context of the associated

environmental constraints. It was a difficult task.

Fvery prospective user of sand confronting changed controls, limits,
licensing or fees wants to know why there are new "unfair" and "costly"
rules which did not apply yesterday to someone else. It was necessary in
Puerto Rico to build a solid government position for a new beach resource
management strategy, based on sound scientific data, because of the pre-
sence of resource users accustomed to fewer restrictions. When data was
collected and analyzed as part of a management planning project under the
Department of Natural Resources, it produced findings which suggested
there was real cause for concern. By coincidence, the outcome of the
study was reinforced by exceptionally severe storm damage at the three
study beach areas during the course of site assessment field work in
1982 (Nichols and Cerco, 1983).
It has been documented that over a thirty year period (1950 to
1980) sixteen million cubic meters (approximately 21 million cubic yards)
of sand had been mined From Puerto Rico's north shore dunes and beach

areas. Of this total, eleven million cubic meters (14.3 million cubic

252

yards) were extracted for fill and construction use from the three key
beach areas of Carolina, Hatillo and Isabella (Castillo and Cruz, 1980).
The sand used, in this case, was not "free" but had a deferred cost.
Nichols and Cerco (1983) summarized the situation well:

Along the north coast, sand dunes once provided protection
against storm surges, waves and flooding. They not only
offered natural protection for human life and property but
served as a source of sand to buffer beach erosion. Today,
after several decades of massive sand extraction few natural
dunes remain. By removing back-up dunes and lowering fore-
dune crests, storm waves now [19831 overtop and breach the
remaining ridge and flood lowlying areas landward. Where
dunes have been completely destroyed, ocean front property,
settlements and mangrove habitats are exposed to the full
force of ocean storm waves ....

The size, height and stability of residual dunes at
Isabella, Hatillo and Carolina [are now] inadequate in many
places for long term protection of life and property. As a
result of high northern swells, October 11-13, 1982, dune
ridges collapsed, were breached at 23 points [and are] in-
sufficient to protect the coast from wave run-up of a one in
20-year hurricane.

Given the deteriorating status of the dunes in response
to man-induced and natural processes, the task now is to main-
tain the dunes in their best achievable condition.... If the
dunes are to serve both as a sand and recreational resource
as well as a barrier for storm protection, they must be
understood ....

This case confirms that some environmental management lessons come
at a price. Fortunately, some of these lessons are transferable and may
reduce the risk of replication at other locations. Conclusions drawn in
the Nichols and Cerco (1983) post-audit of the Puerto Rican experience
are instructive for most sand dune mining activities. The problem is how
to continue to mine sand from dunes while minimizing the risk of future
storm damage to property and human life, thus lessening the need for

costly protective structures and other remedial measures.
At the outset, the operating characteristics and natural functions

of beach and dune areas must be addressed. These were identified by

Nichols and Cerco:

253

The dune and beach system is dynamic. Dune sand is continually
exchanged between the beach or nearshore zones.

Dunes constitute a natural reservoir of sand. When the dune face
is eroded during storms, the sand released nourishes beaches and

reduces erosion effects.

Dune width and dune height provide a volume and mass of sand
that reduces the landward extent of overtopping, overwash and flood-
tng of zones behind the dunes.

The life expectancy of protection depends on the lateral erosion
rate and the dune height in relation to the heights and frequency
that storm surge and runup attain.
Over the long-term the dune/beach system can migrate landward in
response to storms, erosion, rising sea level and a negative sedi-
ment budget [especially when accelerated by sand mining activity]
(Nichols and Cerco, 1983).
Since the type and status of dunes vary widely, both naturally and as
a result of previous sand extraction and other development activities,
different management approaches may be needed. These include: (1) pro-
hibiting all dune sand mining; (2) letting the natural process prevail,
while mining some sand on a sustainable yield basis; (3) modifying the
natural processes to maintain or restore the dunes for protection while
mining sand on a managed by-product or secondary yield basis; (4)-opti-
mizing sand extraction and subsequently rebuilding the dunes artificially.
For most developing countries, option (1), no dune (or beach) sand
mining, is unacceptable. If option (2) is chosen and natural processes
are allowed to prevail, the coast must be managed in a manner that is
compatible with beach and dune migration trends and historical erosion
rates. The approach permits some sand extraction or development but
controls it to minimize interference with natural processes and to
provide a degree of protection (Nichols and Cerco, 1983).
To manage the beaches and dunes so that natural processes prevail
and critical existing sand dune reservoirs are kept more or less intact,
a beach/dune management zone needs to be defined (see Nichols and Cerco
for the procedure). By establishing a dune management or setback zone,

254

future sand extraction and vehicular activities, as well as development,
can be directed inland away from the more active portion of the dunes.
No sand mining would be allowed from the primary shoreward dune and
protection" would have precedence over "sand mining."
Should option (3) be selected to encourage the natural processes
(a) to provide sand for harvesting and (b) to maintain and/or restore
dunes previously damaged by a combination of sand mining and storm
action, the management strategy involves:

building up dune gaps and washover zones through fencing and planting
appropriate vegetation and/or;
building up dune gaps, washover zones and elevations of sand mining
borrow pits to appropriate design heights (50 year or 100 year storm)
by large scale sand nourishment from offshore using a hydraulic

dredge;
establishing a set back zone landward of surviving dunes, into which

dunes can migrate and recover;

regulating all sand mining and restricting it to carefully selected
undamaged accreting and residual back dune areas behind the primary
shoreward dune (which would not be mined except under special cir-
cumstances where accretion rates exceed required storm protection
requirements).
Option (4), emplacing protective engineering structure in dune gaps

and washovers resulting from excessive sand extraction, can only be jus-
tified where the value of existing property and facilities is very high.

It is a proven high risk, short sighted approach leading to potentially
disastrous and costly consequences, as illustrated by both the St. Lucia
and Puerto Rico examples. Engineering structures are no substitute for
natural sand dunes along open stretches of coastline.

5.3 Marine Sand Mining

5.3.1 U.S. Virgin Islands
Over the past two decades, many developing countries have stopped or

reduced the practice of harvesting beach sand for construction purposes.
To a degree, this is attributable to increased awareness of negative

255

environmental impacts associated with coastal sand and coral mining
activity. More significant is the simple realization that there
are socially and economically valuable alternative uses for beaches,
i.e., for local recreational uses and development of waterfront resorts,
hotels, condominium sites and other tourist attractions. But when a
government declares beach sand extraction illegal or restricts tradi-
tional harvesting practices and therefore the supply of sand, it will
sooner or later be forced to identify and regulate the mining of alter-
native sources of aggregate.
This was the situation in the U.S. Virgin Islands in the 1960's when

external factors began to stimulate economic growth in three sectors,
government operations, export manufacturing and tourism. In tourism,
growth rates were exponential, both in number of arrivals and In accom-
modations. Between 1960 and 1970, visitor arrivals increased tenfold.
As the employed labor force tripled, the stock of housing doubled, real
per capita income rose ten percent annually, and electric and water
consumption averaged 20 percent per year growth (McElroy, 1978).
Environmental stresses from such massive social changes quickly be-
came apparent. Open spaces were replaced by suburban sprawl, shorelines
were altered by hotel, marina and industrial expansion, and prevously un-
disturbed ecosystems became sites of residential clusters, government
facilities, commercial buildings and road networks (McEachern and Towle,
1974). Much of this activity required sand for a variety of purposes
for land fill, for increasing beach width or length, for building docks,
and for construction of hotels, houses and other facilities. Between
1960 and 1970 the consumption of sand tripled along with the price which
went from $1.00 to $3.00 per cubic yard. In the context of a growing
beach-oriented, tourism-based economy, traditional sand removal from
beaches began to be publicly questioned. It was eventually legally
challenged and, in 1973, prohibited by law, resulting in a sharp increase
in more costly imports of sand (at $5.00 to $7.00/cubic yard) from other
islands such as Puerto Rico, the British Virgin Islands, Anguilla,
Barbuda, and even the distant Bahamas. Other alternatives were examined
which included large scale offshore marine sand dredging to provide the

256

needed construction sand and fill material.

Marine sand mining has a long history in the U.S. Virgin Islands.
As early as 1935, over one million cubic yards of material was dredged
from the bottom of Lindbergh Bay on the southwestern coast of St. Thomas.
Fill was placed in a nearby, swampy area for the construction of the
present airport runway, leaving a large, deep excavated turbid basin in
the bay bottom. As a result of the ensuing turbidities, benthic grasses
once found to a depth of 10 meters are now absent in depths exceeding
2.5 meters. Dredging effects were compounded by large quantities of fine
terrigenous clays washed into the bay as a result of continuing construc-
tion on nearby hillsides (vanEepoel, et.al., 1971). The extensive sump
resulting from dredging activities still, nearly 50 years later, col-
lects fine sediments which then are available for resuspension and re-
distribution throughout the bay system. This periodically increases
turbidity and limits the regrowth of coral and sea grasses. Adjacent
Lindbergh Bay Beach, a public recreation area, remains popular with
local residents (not tourists), more for its accessibility by public
bus transport than its marginal water quality.
Between 1961 and 1�81, over 2.2 million cubic yards of aggregate
(principally sand) were extracted for local construction activity from
Christiansted Harbor, St. Croix, the most southerly of the Virgin
Islands (Hubbard, et.al., 1981a). Over 200,000 cubic yards of sand was
harvested from each of eight other bays in the Virgin Islands (Brewers,
Water, Crown, Cruz, Great Cruz, Vessup, Long, and Turners) during the
1960's and early 1970's. One area in particular, Water Bay, was the
focus of repeated sand mining activities between 1960 and 1971 and was
selected as the "case study" site.

5.3.2 Water Bay, St. Thomas
Situated on the northeastern shore of St. Thomas, Water Bay opens to the
east facing the Leeward Passage, an inter-island channel from the
Atlantic Ocean to the Caribbean Sea. It is bounded on the north by Coki
Peninsula, on the west by Pineapple Beach, and on the south by the island
land mass proper, ending at Footer Point. Prior to dredging, Water Bay

257

supported marine flora and fauna characteristic of most West Indian
shallow water marine communities dominated by turtle and eel grass flats
interspersed with small patch reefs. The sublittoral area of the Bay
was approximately twenty hectares with a relatively even bottom and
gradual slope to seward (Figure 13).
Part of the Bay's southern shore is the bold slope of Mt. Pleasant,
which rises steeply to a 200 foot elevation. A small indentation be-
tween Footer Point and Mt. Pleasant is known as Sugar Bay, behind which
there is a lowland area which was at one time used as a public garbage
dump. Until 1969 Sugar Bay had a rather nice beach; the story of its

disappearance is instructive.
The seabed of Water Bay was dredged for sand on five separate occa-
sions between 1961 and 1971 (Table 6). In 1961, as part of a resort
development project at Pineapple Beach, 50,000 to 100,000 cubic yards of
sand were first dredged from the shallow area near the beach to provide
adequate depth for a boat dock, for beach improvement and for construc-

tion and fill use. An area continguous to the original mining site was
subsequently mined in 1965 for additional construction material and fill
for a swamp adjacent to the already existing hotel on Pineapple Beach.
After 9,000 of a scheduled 25,000 cubic yards were extracted by a suc-
tion dredge working over a large area only six to eight feet deep, the
hotel owners ordered the contractor to stop. Mounting complaints of
water quality by hotel guests using the beach had reached booking agents
on the U.S. mainland, who threatened to refuse to book further guests at

the Pineapple Beach Resort until swimming and snorkeling conditions im-
proved. Rather than-risk the possibly irreparable loss of visitors and
potential repeat customers, the hotel owners elected to absorb the added
costs of hauling the required fill material.
Four years later, however, a 1967 U.S. Department of the Interior
permit to dredge 600,000 cubic yards of sand from Water Bay (issued to a
local concrete ready-mix company) was announced and activated by the
contractor. The same hotel, perceiving that its investment was again
threatened, joined forces with the environmental community to oppose the
action. The owner/manager of the Pineapple Beach Resort facility re-

258

64* 5 1' N N 65. W 0
Soundings and Elevations
In Feet WATER BAY

homas
1-4 ... ... ... ... ... ..
U.S.V-1.

Coki
Bay COKI PT. 6

4
0 16 41
52 60
16
38
1802 1'N
Pineapple 2 9 19 33
Beach 9 8
WATER BAY '...2"'
34 52
2 7 14 :::Rock
16
3
41
3 Sugar 45
Bay 10
*. 38
Mt. Pleasant I-Ir
Footer 8
Point

5
0 17 N
0 300
Yards

Figure 13. Water Bay, St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Tslands, showing
bathymetry and shoreline swamps prior to dredge and
fill operations (1960-1971). (Base map from NOAA
Chart No. 938.)
S ug
8
e t2
9

Pis
5"@ 1, @,F o o Nt
Po

259

Table 6 . History of marine sand mining, Water Bay, St. Thomas, U.S.
Virgin Islands. (Sources: vanEepoel, 1969; Grigg and
vanEepoel, 1972.)

Year Dredging Quantity Dredge Purpose
Location (yd3 sand) Type

1961 Pineapple 50,000 to Dragline Construction
-62 Beach 100,000 (est.) aggregate/
(nearshore) beach nour-
ishment/
dock

access

1965 Pineapple 9,000 Sand sucker Land fill
Beach
(nearshore)
1969 Sugar Bay 100,000 Hydraulic Fill/Aggre-
(nearshore) cutterhead gate

1970 Inner Bay 50,000 Hydraulic Aggregate -
cutterhead off site
use

1971 Outer Bay 450,000 Hydraulic Aggregate -
cutterhead off site

use

260

sponded to the proposed scheme as follows in a letter to the government:

It came to my attention during the first week of January
1969 that a large dredging operation was contemplated in
the vicinity of the Water Bay Area, St. Thomas, V.T ....
Since we had the previous experience of a business loss on
dredging only 9,000 cubic yards we [know] that dredging -
fadditional sand) would cause a very sizeable operating loss
we could not afford.... The greatest asset we have is our
beach. By July 1969 we will have a total investment of
approximately four million dollars in Pineapple Reach Club
and the Condominiums. Our entire investment would be in
jeopardy if the beach [is] damaged ....

I feel confident that this government does not want to be
responsible for permitting a dredging operation to operate
in an area that would cause immediate financial loss in the
daily operations and possibly cause irreparable damage to
one of the most popular beach resorts in the Virgin Islands.

I don't feel that the Government of the Virgin Islands would
want to be a party to the substantial adverse publicity that
such an abusive operation would receive not only locally,
but throughout the travel industry....

The author of this letter also requested that an investigation be con-
ducted by the government to assess the potential effects of removing
600,000 cubic yards of sand from Water Bay.
The proposed scheme involved 50,000 cubic yards of sand as fill for
a former garbage dump and 550,000 cubic yards of construction sand to be
hauled away from the site. Despite the previously cited protests, the
contractor's hydraulic cutterhead dredge was in place and commenced
pumping sand from WaterBay in early April 1969. Within thirty days over
100,000 cubic yards of sand were dredged from directly In front of Sugar
Bay Beach on the south coast of Water Bay and deposited ashore filling
the former swampy garbage dump site. Because the dredge was urgently
needed at another nearby site and to allow time for the deposited mater-
ial to settle, dredging activity was stopped temporarily.
Within months from the cessation of dredging activities, Sugar Bay
Beach literally disappeared and was replaced by the underlying pebble and
cobble-dominated substrate. Sugar Bay Beach was originally two hundred

261

meters long and approximately ten meters in width. Surveys conducted a
few months after the 1969 dredging indicated the beach materials had
slumped into the adjacent dredge pit. The pre-existing sand berm had
been eroded back, forming a three foot vertical wall several feet above
sea level, exposing the seagrape tree root systems (Figure 14). Slump-
off resulted in high water turbidities from both the exposed remnant
of the beach as well as the newly eroded deposits. Additional turbidity
was caused by exposed layers of mud opened during the removal of overly-
ing sand deposits. Serious impacts on Water Bay life forms have resulted
from chronic resuspension of mud fines, clays and organic materials
(vanEepoel, 1969; Grigg and vanEepoel, 1970).
Reef die-off and reduction In sea grass densities were attributed to
increased rates of sedimentation resulting from the dredging operations.
Grigg and vanEepoel (1970) estimated that approximately ninety percent
of undredged Water Bay corals on the southeast shore and 20-25 percent of
corals on the northern shore were killed by the sand extraction activity
(Figure 15). Two emergency groins costing approximately $10,000 were
installed by the contractor in 1969 at either end of Sugar Bay after the
beach disappears. However, they failed to have any positive effect and,
subsequently, also washed away.
This then was the setting which preceded a resumption of sand mining
in the fall of 1970 (a continuation of the 1969 dredging activity under
the same permit). By this time a number of technical reports and scien-
tific studies had become public, documenting the impact of sand mining
operations at Water Bay and elsewhere in the Virgin Islands (vanEepoel,
1969; Grigg and vanEepoel, 1970). Researchers described the 1969 mining
activities at Water Bay, though of a short term nature, as a "major eco-
logical disaster for sublittoral flora and sessile fauna" in the immedi-
ate area of dredging (vanEepoel, 1969). Therefore, as mining activities
recommenced, they came under increased public and private scrutiny.
Tourism and hotel industry spokesmen lobbied for a monitoring regime,
arguing that further "Sugar Bay disasters" would affect the value of
their properties.
Until 1969 applications for required dredging permits (then issued

262

,loop-

Figure 14a. Sugar Bay Beach (1969), before offshore dredging in Water
Bay, St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands.

A
-s

Figure 14b. Sugar Bay Beach (1970), after offshore dredgingin Water
Bay, St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands.

263

Coki Bay
Coki Point

4b
v@ "Ib0 5
V, Damaged Corals Ole

y
WATER BAY Deep Dredge Pit (1971)

cc
'D "... -AShallow - - - - - -
y Dredge
Pit

ca Deep Dredge Pit (1969)

- - - - - - - - - -
Y' ir
aged 0,F,'
Dom
Y' Y' V, Corals

Sugar Bay Beach
estroyed)

Spoil Area
0 meters 300 N111)(19-11971)

Figure 15. Water Bay, St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Tslands, showing
dredge sites and adversely impacted areas including
Sugar Bay Beach.
d

264

by the U.S. Department of the Interior) were seldom scrutinized. When
approved, they were subject to little monitoring or enforcement and were
issued as open licenses for extended periods. However, as a pre-condi-
tion to recommencing mining activities at Water Bay in 1970, the follow
requirements were imposed by the local Virgin Islands government:
Dredging had to be transferred to deeper areas at the entrance to

Water Bay;
Prior to dredging, core borings in the remaining seabed mining areas
were to be taken to determine quality and depth of bottom and to
assure that no disturbance of clay and organic "fines" would occur;
A sediment discharge settling basin on the inshore disposal site,
equipped with proper weirs to extend residence time, was to be main-

tained;
Dredging in waters less than 35 feet in depth was prohibited;
A surveillance program was to be established to ensure the adequate
protection of the environment.
However, despite these required modifications and systematic at-
tempts by local scientists to monitor the renewed dredging activity,
conditions at Water Bay worsened during final stages (1970-71) of the
now accelerated effort by the contractor to dredge the remainder of
the total 600,000 yards approved under the original 1967 permit. Matters
finally came to a head when the Governor of the Virgin Islands requested
that the U.S. Department of the Interior withdraw the dredging permit.
Cancellation was ordered on November 3, 1971, long after damage was done.
The positive legacy of the Water Bay experience was the establish-
ment of a new territorial policy regarding beaches and dredging and a
monitoring program to prevent future similar occurances. The negative
legacy is the number of dredge pits which still exist in Water Bay with
unconsolidated bottoms acting as chronic sources of turbidity and pre-
venting recolonization near the mining site (Grigg and vanEepoel, 1972;
Insular Environments, 1975; Island Resources Foundation resurvey of site
area, 1983). Sugar Bay's former sandy beach continues to be a narrow
strand of rubble and shows no signs of natural recovery nearly fifteen

years later.

265

6. ALTERNATIVE MANAGEMENT APPROACHES

6.1 Coral Mining
6.1.1 Stony (Hard) Corals
Most "hard" or stony corals (scleractinians) have rather slow growth
rates, ranging from one-tenth of a centimeter to ten centimeters per
year in length (Stoddarc, 1969). For this reason, they are often seen by
more conservative scientists and managers as non-renewable marine re-
sources since natural production rates are frequently exceeded by even
very low levels of harvesting. When hard corals are exploited commer-
cially, and, therefore, in effect treated as renewable resources, their
slow growth rates suggest the need for careful resource management plans
to control their harvesting for lime manufacture or, in the case of
smaller, more delicate corals, as tourist curios and in the ornamental
export trade (Wells, 1981).
Unfortunately, no comprehensive management strategies or regulations
are known to exist for small stony corals, although some countries have
export restrictions (Wells, 1981). The state of Hawaii, where extensive
coral harvesting occurs, currently manages corals by establishment of a
restricted zone (within 1,000 feet of shore and under 30 feet in depth)
where the harvesting of coral and sand is prohibited; collecting for re-
search purposes is excepted.
Grigg (1976) proposed the following minimum requirements: commer-
cial "fishing" licenses; collection of catch/effort data; establishment
of minimum size limits significantly above the determined age of repro-
ductive maturity; estabishment of a monitoring program focused on heav-
ily harvested reef areas; and a public information program to educate
users on the importance of coral conservation. He also recommended the
prohibition of all forms of random dredging for corals due to catch
inefficiency (losses) and destructive impacts on the slower growing,
deeper corals and their hard bottom habitats.
The need for sound management strategies for coral harvesting can-
not be overemphasized due to the resource's slow rate of natural replen-
ishment. Excessive exploitation implies a long recovery period and,
translated into economic terms, a prolonged period of reduced harvests.

266

Because of these considerations, the U.S. Western Pacific Regional Fish-
eries Management Council (based in Hawaii) proposed that prior to the
commercial harvesting of any virgin stocks in the region, a resource
assessment should be completed to include total area of the bed, density
estimates, and species present (U.S. Dept. of Commerce, 1979).

6.1.2 Precious Corals
Certain types of rare, slow growing corals are referred to as "precious
corals" because of their special color, shape, hardness, texture, orna-
mental value and widespread commercial use by the handcrafts and jewelry
industry (Poh, 1971; Wells, 1981). Wholesale prices for raw (dockside)
precious coral can range from $50 to $500 per kilo, depending on the
species, size, quality and color of the specimen (Eade, 1980). Ninety-
five percent of the world's harvest of this resource comes from the
Pacific. The most commonly harvested precious coral species are of the
genera Corallium (white, pink, red, gold, and bamboo coral) and
Antipathes (black and wire). They are only found in isolated colonies
on hard substrates in water depths of between 30 and 500 meters.

Precious coral mining dates back to 100 A.D. in the Mediterranean
region. In the Pacific the earliest recorded activity dates to the
early nineteenth century in Japan but fell into temporary decline and
was only recently revived by the Taiwanese in the mid-1950's. Today
the sector is dominated by Japan, Taiwan, the Philippines and Hawaii
(Grigg, 1970, 1976; Wells, 1981).
Harvesting techniques are of two types: non-selective use of a
tangle net dredge (like an enormous industrial floor mop) which is
dragged on deep coral beds to break off and ensnare specimens, or the use
of one or more costly, more selective techniques (SCUBA, camera-assisted
grabs, and minisubmarines with power driven cutting devices).
The non-selective, tangle net dredge approach has the obvious
advantage of comparatively low capital and operational costs (boat, net,
winch, and crew), continuous operation, and simplicity. The principal
disadvantages of the technique are: damage to the substrate, low catch
efficiency and removal of immature under-valued specimens. Conversely,

267

selective direct harvesting for deep-water species incurs high
capital costs, has depth limitations and is technologically more complex.
These factors, however, are offset by the fact that environmental degra-
dation is minimized and a high catch efficiency assured.
Precious corals grow even more slowly than most hard corals (Noome
and Kristensen, 1976). Since harvesting activity is expanding and prices
continue to rise, the need for proper management of this rather exotic
but valuable resource is obvious. The traditional approach to the man-
agement of precious coral resources has been by rotation of harvesting
effort from bed to bed as dictated by the economics of a slow-growing
species. This strategy, first documented in the Mediterranean in the

nineteenth century, was self-imposed and based on traditional nine year
cycles. Within the past two decades, more "scientific" approaches to
coral management have evolved. Growth rates for black coral and the
deeper-water species of Corallium were estimated to be six and one cm./
year, respectively, and have been used to determine a maximum harvesting
pressure which the coral population could sustain for an indefinite
period of time, or maximum sustainable yield (MSY). In the case of black
coral (which is more accessible), this was determined to require limiting
annual harvesting to an area measuring two to four percent of the total
bed (U.S. Dept. of Commerce, 1979).
The MSY determined for black coral has been adapted by the Western
Pacific Regional Fishery Management Council (WPRFMC) to other slow-
growing coral species, at least until data become available to support a
more species-specific management approach. To implement the MSY through
subsequent regulations the WPRFMC employed the concept of three discrete
management units: established beds (determined by a history of exploita-
tion); conditional beds (those beds whose location and area are approx-
imately known and optimum yield determined by analogy with established
beds); and exploratory beds (all remaining areas).
Based on these management units, regulations were formulated and
proposed in a draft management plan for precious coral. These encour-
aged use of more selective approaches to harvesting and establishment of
weight quotas and size limits for pink and black coral species.

268

In addition to these operational regulations, permits were required
and refuge areas established for purposes of providing research control
areas and reproductive reserves.

6.2 Beach Sand Mining
Information available on successful management strategies for mining
beach sands is marginal. Campbell (1978) recommended that where physical
or economic constraints require harvesting sand from beaches, a rigorous
monitoring program be initiated prior to and during mining. The program
would include an official responsible for regulating the removal of sand
and confine all extractive activities to designated, pre-selected sites
situated between high and low tides and rotated over time from beach to
beach to allow for the rejuvenation of the mined area. Sites should also
be confined to accreting beaches, and limited harvesting would be allowed

only after a sand resources survey had been completed, calculating the
sand budget and the effects of any sand mining "debit" factors. For
detailed beach dune sand mining management requirements, the reader
is referred to Nichols and Cerco's report on Puerto Rico (1983).

6.3 Marine Sand Mining
One alternative to mining beach sand and nearshore deposits is to iden-
tify suitable reserves for mining farther offshore. Areas where sand
extraction causes minimal impact to the adjacent environment are chan-
nels and submarine canyons on the edge of some continental or insular
shelf areas. These features act as sinks for the sand and are the termi-
nal points for the sand transport cells (described in Section 4.1).
Channels which have continued to receive sand over geological time have

built up huge reservoirs of sand capable of sustaining most aggregate
demand for extended periods. Nevertheless, care should be taken to
avoid mining in proximity to the zone of active transport into the area
for fear of accelerating up-drift erosion.

6.4 New Technologies
one result of increased concern over environmental degradation associated

269

with marine mining activities has been a focus on the development of new
technologies designed to ameliorate undesired impacts. One such tech-
nology, the Submarine Sand Recovery System (SSRS), was developed and
tested in Hawaii. The novel feature of the SSRS is the use of a suction
probe which burrows beneath surface layers to extract sand, thereby
reducing sediment loads. Designed to be used in thick sand deposits, the
basic system consists of a small barge or boat, a vacuum pump, a flexible
hose connecting the pump and suction head and a submerged plastic pipe-
line to facilitate direct pumping of sand to shore (Casciano, 1976).
Sand is pumped shoreward as a slurry into a settling basin.
The SSRS was tested off the coast of Hawaii in fifty to sixty feet
of water at a distance of 300 feet from shore inside a fringing coral
reef. It is instructive to compare two post-operations environmental

assessments, one completed four months after mining activity ceased
(Maragos, 1977) and a second approximately five years later (Maragos,
1982). Interestingly, some of the significant near-term impacts
(destruction of benthic molluscs, localized damage to corals, sea ur-

chins trapped in sand pits) appeared to have no long-term consequences.
The sand craters which were originally six meters deep and filled with
11 fines" had all but disappeared as adjacent sands migrated to fill the
conical pit. However, this sand migration caused the undermining of an
adjacent coral reef. As a result, a ribbon of coral collapsed along the
reef edge, measuring 1-3 meters wide for a distance extending 200 plus
meters along the reef-sand deposit interface.
Maragos (1977) recommends that a buffer zone 100 meters in width be
established between any proposed mining activity and adjacent coral reefs
and should be proportionally widened if the mining exceeds 10,000 cubic
yards or creates a crater deeper than seven meters. The Water Bay ex-
perience reported in Section 5.3 suggests that Maragos' recommenda-
tions are appropriate, except that sand mining near a beach area should
take place outside the ten meter depth contour with a buffer zone of at
least 200 meters from the nearest beach.

270

7. ATTEMPTS AT RESTORATION

7.1 Beach Nourishment

Beach nourishment has become an increasingly popular strategy to miti-
gate erosion impacts on beaches, increase recreational space, and com-
pensate for other causes of beach loss. Nourishment involves placing
sand on an eroding beach, taken generally from offshore areas using any
one of several extractive technologies. This is a potentially attractive
strategy, but there are complications. First, the source of the orig-

inal erosion must be identified and arrested and the beach stabilized or

else the new sand will erode with the old. Secondly, a degree of short
term biological disruption is to be expected at both sites of extraction
and deposition. Finally, the emplacement of new beach sand may create
longer term turbidity and sedimentation problems from fines washing
out as sediment stabilization takes place over time.
TvIatching textural and size characteristics between existing beach
and mined sand will reduce the rate of erosion. Analytical techniques
are now available to identify this information. New fill must be able to
withstand both storm surge as well as the moderate wave action typical of

the beach if the threat of erosion is to be reduced.

Walton, et. al. (1977) described a beach nourishment project on
Carolina Beach, North Carolina. There 2.5 million cubic yards of fill
were placed on an eroding beach, of which 1.2 million cubic yards (or
forty-six percent) were lost in two years due to erosion. New fill was
deposited and a groin built, but both measures proved ineffective as
total losses surpassed fifty percent. Loss of the beach was attributed
to the mining of the fines and their subsequent displacement seaward by
wave action and the cessation of upbeach littoral drift from the creation
of the Carolina Beach Inlet (a man-made cut completed in 1952).
Where erosion persists after new fill is deposited on the beach,
vegetation techniques are occasionally employed for purposes of stabili-
zation. Best results have occurred in areas where some vegetation al-
ready exists or has existed in the past (Davis, 1975).
Where significant littoral movement occurs without natural replen-
ishment, construction of groins may be necessary to contain fill. This

271

technique was successfully employed in Key West where fill placed on a
rocky shore to create a 3,000 foot beach in 1960 was protected by four
previosly installed rock groins. Erosion over a six year period was es-
timated to be only thirty-seven percent, attributed primarily to wind
transport (Walton, et. al., 1977).
However, a word of caution about groins is appropriate. In the
cases of Water Bay (St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands), Vigie Beach (St.
Lucia)--see Sections 5.2 and 5.3--and on numerous other occasions,
hastily installed or badly sited groins have failed to accomplish their
purpose (beach sand accretion or stabilization) and either further

damaged the site or were themselves damaged or destroyed. The decision
to use groins depends on the particular physical characteristics of the

proposed replenishment or stabilization site. Groin construction which
fails to account for local beach sand transport patterns and seasonal
variations can result in major adverse modifications to adjacent beach
areas. The construction of these structures should be recognized as a
complex task requiring a sound environmental and engineering plan.

7.2 Dredge Pit Stabilization

There is little information relative to the success of restoration at-
tempts of dredge pits. One technique which has been attempted is the
construction and emplacement of artificial reefs at the bottom of the
borrow pits. Artificial reefs were first defined as man-made or natural
objects placed in selected areas of the marine environment to provide or
improve rough bottom habitat for purposes of increased productivity
(Parker, et. al., 1974). Since 1974 artificial reefs have been used to
accomplish commercial and recreational fisheries enhancement and solid
waste disposal. In the only known use of these structures to fill dredge
pits, Penn (1983) utilized an assortment of materials (rubber tires,
concrete, car bodies) in Laucala Bay, Fiji to fill old dredge sites and
to facilitate the development of a benthic community. Based on pre-
liminary findings, he noted that car bodies were particularly conducive
to settlement due to their rough metallic edges. There is no evidence
that this attempt effectively stabilized the dredge pit.

272

Important considerations in the use of this technique are the exist-
ence of toxic substances in the materials (gas, oil, lead, copper); the
location and site stability (bottom type, current and wave action); and
the availability of suitable materials.

As an alternative to the use of artificial substrate to stabilize

bottom, there have been numerous attempts at transplanting both sea
grasses and corals to disturbed areas, including old sand and coral

mine sites.

Sea grasses have demonstrated a capacity to bind bottom sediments
with their root systems, reduce wave erosion through the protective
covering afforded by their blades, and increase rates of sedimentation
by current retardation attributed to their leaf structure (Thayer,
et.al., 1975). Because of these characteristics, marine grasses have
been the object of numerous replanting efforts. Of the approximately 125
attempts at sea grass restoration, the majority have occurred in the Gulf
of Mexico and Caribbean regions. Despite these attempts in a history
that dates back to 1945, problems continue to exist. Penn (1983), in an
attempt to restore dredge pits in Fiji with sea grasses, cited high
death rates attributed to herbivorous fish and turtles and the cost as
the major constraints. Lewis, et.al., (1981), in a comprehensive
experiment testing various combinations of grass species and techniques,
achieved only mixed success in his attempts to restore a ten hectare
borrow pit created in the Florida Keys over thirty years ago. However,
even in the most successful combinations of sea grasses and transplanting
techniques, costs ranged from $27,000 to $86,000 per hectare, suggesting
--if only in economic terms--the importance of impact assessment and
sound mining practices designed to preserve habitat rather than requir-
ing its later, more costly restoration.

7.3 Coral Restoration

Even less is known about re-introduction of corals in previously dis-
turbed areas. Maragos (1974) attempted to transplant two common species
of corals in Hawaii to a degraded bay hoping to provide a site of settle-
ment for coral larvae and to restore the bay's fauna. Based on the

273

experiment, he concluded coral transference may be an effective procedure
for preserving and creating coral reefs, provided the original sources
causing die-off were removed and allowance was made for the current and
wave energy tolerances of coral species. Tn a related experiment,
Maragos estimated that coral recovery may entail a 30-50 year time frame.
Factors known to influence the period required for recovery are: extent
of initial damage, condition of substrate availability of coral larvae,
the role of grazers, competition from other species, and food availabil-
ity (Pearson, 1981).

274

8. LESSONS LEARNED

8.1 Coral Mining
Coral communities serve as one of the principal sources of sand
for beaches and nearshore areas in tropical waters. Biological and
physical weathering of these highly productive communities provide
a major source of sand to nearby coasts, often surpassing the in-

puts from terrigeous sources.
Coral reefs act as barriers for coastal beaches, communities and
facilities, protecting them from the natural hazard of damaging
storm-driven, high-energy ocean swell and waves. Removing or modi-
fying some coral reefs can initiate or accelerate abnormal coastal
erosion processes, resulting in economic loss and expensive restora-
tive measures. Site examples from Indonesia, Sri Lanka and the
Republic of Kiribati demonstrate the indirect economic costs associ-
ated with coral mining in terms of loss of shoreline land, declining
coastal land values, and the increased need for costly remedial
engineering work in affected coastal areas.
Living corals are slow-growing colonial organisms which cannot sus-
tain localized commercial exploition without their rapid depletion.
There was no evidence in the three site examples described (based on
the literature) that the exploited reefs have demonstrated any signs
of recovery. For environmental planning purposes, these organisms
should be treated as non-renewable resources. No effective exploi-
tive management strategy has yet been developed, nor are restora-
tive techniques sufficiently well known to permit significant com-
mercial harvesting. Even non-commercial artisanal harvests of coral
should be monitored closely, as extraction rates, although low, may
still exceed natural re-generation.

8.2 Beach Sand Mining
Adverse effects of excessive beach mining may be deferred for years
before they become evident due to seasonal and other ephemeral fac-
tors affecting beach dynamics. In both the St. Lucia and Puerto
Rico examples, large scale changes in beach dynamics were delayed

275

several years. In the case of St. Lucia, a major tropical storm was
contributory in accelerating the effects of chronic sand mining on
Vigie Beach. In Puerto Rico, widespread erosion on Carolina Beach
was not reported until several years after initiation of mining

activities.

Many small scale beach sand cells with few outside sources of sand
renewal cannot support intensive extraction pressures. St. Lucia's
Vigie Beach appears to be an excellent example of this beach type.
Natural inputs could not compensate for extraction pressures, and
sand had to be replaced finally through costly beach nourishment.

Beach dunes play a critical role in shore protection; their removal
or degradation could signify large scale economic loss associated
with storm surges, waves and flooding. The three beaches described
in Puerto Rico demonstrate that reduced size, height and stability
of dunes resulting from mining activities increased natural hazard

risk.

Preservative and restorative responses to beach degradation are
costly, often offer only temporary relief, and may themselves have
adverse environmental impacts at both site of extraction and deposi-
tion. In St. Lucia the "ineffectiveness" of a patchwork strategy at
Vigie Beach, involving experiments with gabion mattresses, rock
groins and eventually beach nourishment, was demonstrated.
Long term economic losses resulting from beach sand exploitation
must be analyzed against shorter term economic gain--the balance may
justify the development of alternative sources of aggregate. If the
total costs associated with the mining of Vigie Beach could have
been predicted, coupled with the long term aggregate needs of
Castries, the development of nearby terrestrial pumice sand resour-
ces, as an alternative to beach sand, might have been selected when
this option was first considered more than a decade ago.

8.3 Marine Sand Mining
High turbidity and increased sedimentation associated with marine
sand mining can result in severe degradation of benthic communities

276

(marine grass beds and coral reefs), especially those requiring
consistently good light penetration and non-turbid water. Surveys
conducted in Water Bay (St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands) after sand
mining documented significant coral kill (ranging from 20 to 90
percent) directly related to proximity to the dredge sites.
Mining too close to shore can affect coastal nearshore processes,
resulting in major changes such as the loss of an adjacent beach,
alteration of berm and coastal vegetation die-off. The Water Bay
site history documents the loss of Sugar Bay Beach by its slumping
into the adjacent dredge pit. Other changes included reduction in
height of the back berm and die-off of exposed coastal vegetation.
Failure to define the characteristics of the target materials for
mining through pre-dredge boring at the site can result in the
exposure of highly erodible substrates beneath sand deposits which
may later act as chronic sources of turbidity. Exposed layers of
mud directly underlying sand deposits mined in Water Bay created a
source of chronic water turbidity. The continuing suspension of
mudfines, clays and organic materials may have played a significant
role in the observed coral die-off and prevention of recolonization
of both the dredge pits and adjacent impacted areas.
Sand mining often conflicts with other coastal uses and, if beaches
and water quality are degraded, may result in economic losses.
Water Bay provides an excellent example of resource use conflict
which first became apparent during an initial hotel-sponsored dredg-
ing operation. That activity ultimately conflicted with the desire
of resident and prospective hotel visitors to have access to undis-
turbed water quality at the beachfront, and when subsequent dredging
activities were proposed for an adjacent area, opposition arose
from the hoteliers who recognized the economic consequences (i.e.,
reduced occupancy) of indiscriminate or badly sited dredging opera-
tions and argued publically for environmental controls.
Mining in shallow protected waters can leave bottom "borrow" pits
as semi-permanent features which act as traps for fine sediments
and become chronic sources of resuspended material. Some of the

277

traps identified in the Water Bay case study, originally dredged in
the 1960's, still show little evidence of filling or of recoloniza-

tion.

Although restorative techniques exist, in general, they are expen-
sive, technically demanding, and only partially serve their objec-
tives. In the final analysis, careful planning and management of
mining activities is far preferable to restoring degraded sites.

278

9. GUIDELINES

(1) Commercial mining of living coral reefs should be restricted and in
most cases prohibited. Corals are slow growing organisms. Since
effective management strategies have yet to be discovered, living
reefs do not appear to be able to sustain extractive pressures.
Their importance as productive marine systems, artisanal and commer-
cial fishing sites, recreational attractions, and natural break-
waters seems to far outweigh the value derived from their direct

exploitation for construction material or other consumptive uses.
Zoning allowable uses for coral reef system "exploitation" is a
desirable strategy, demarcating protected areas and sites and sec-
tors for artisanal harvesting, fishing, diving and mining activi-
ties. Permits are useful but require performance and practice
monitoring. An alternative to harvesting the living reef for meet-
ing these local needs is the rubble lagoonal area and algal reef
flats behind the reef crest. Caution is, however, required as this
zone also serves as a wave energy absorption barrier, and excessive
dead or live coral harvesting can have seriously damaging effects on
adjacent shorelines. Mining of the rubble area and reef flats
should be discouraged in areas adjacent to eroding shorelines and

more vulnerable beaches.
(2) Precious corals, which grow much slower and deeper than most reef
corals, require special management approaches as they come under
pressure from commercial harvesting activity. Commercial tangle net
dredging for precious corals damages both the substrate and immature
specimens and should be gradually phased out in favor of more selec-
tive harvesting methods which should be encouraged. Extraction
activity should not exploit more than four percent of known bed area
per annum. Weight quotas and size limits should be applied and a
permitting systems established for commercial uses.
(3) The mining of beach sands should generally be discouraged. When
the scarcity of accessible alternative sand resources dictates the
need for beach and dune mining, extraction should proceed slowly
and be carefully monitored and regulated, employing such management

279

tools as periodic beach profiling and rotation of sites, licensing
of commercial users, and quantity quotas as needed, based on site-
specific sand budgets. Preferred sites include accreting (growing)
beaches, multiple dune systems, or other stable reservoir areas
known to be the terminus of sand circulation cells or sinks.
When sand mining is terminated, beach berm and dune sites (espec-
ially on windward shorelines) should be replanted with'appropriate
stabilizing vegetation to prevent further sand loss du,2@_to wind

erosion.

(4) The mining or dredging of offshore sea bed sand and aggregate is
the preferred alternative to beach and dune mining, providing ad-
equate site selection strategies, antecedent impact assessments,
and controls are employed to prevent or minimize potential adverse
effects on coral reefs and coastal areas. Waters shoula-b-e--suffi-

ciently deep and open to currents in order to speed the dispersion
of suspended sediments and leveling of dredge sites upon completion
of operations through natural movement of bottom sediments. Pre-
ferred marine sand deposits are stable reserves at the ends of the
submarine sand circulation pattern, such as near the heads of sub-
marine canyons where sands are known to be drifting deeper and are
no longer a part of the local circulating sand budget. Windward
facing bays and beaches are more unstable than leeward systems, and
wind and wave approach angles can be important factors /@ in chosing a
sand mining site. I<
(5) Mining activities for sand and aggregate should be preceded--by-a7
country-wide, systematic resource inventory to provide a rational
strategy for selecting appropriate sites and extraction technologies
and to link the mining project with local supply and demand options.
The inventory should include:
� identification of existing, high quality sand "reseiv
� identification and classification of marine sediments scheduled
for removal by dredging as waste material or spoil;
� characterization of the deposits (depth, sediment sizes and
proportions, extent of coverage);

280

characterization of the local environment of each site to in-

clude identification of the existing sources and sinks of the
particular sediment deposit (sand, aggregate, silt), relevant
processes linking the two (current regime and transport units),
marine communities potentially affected by mining activities,
potential for reintroduction of toxic substances, and storage

options;
economic and environmental assessment of exploiting alternatives
to coastal/marine sources (pumice, quarry fines, river sand).
(6) Marine sand mining sites, except those in major harbors and ship
channels, should be located as far as possible from living coral
reefs and sandy beaches. A minimum buffer zone of 100 meters be-
tween the dredge borrow pit edge and the nearest coral reef is
recommended (more if the mining exceeds 10,000 cubic yards or the
pit is deeper than seven meters). Any nearshore marine mining ad-
jacent to a beach should take place outside the ten meter depth con-
tour and have a minimum 200 meter buffer zone separating the dredg-
ing site and the beach's edge at low tide. Special monitoring of
the current borne plume of fine sediments generated by any marine
dredging is important if there are sensitive marine habitats (e.g.,
coral reefs) in the area. The plume shape and axis can change
dramatically due to ephemeral wind, wave, and current factors and
can necessitate prompt reduction in plume densities and dimensions
by reduced extraction rates or even temporary shut-down.
(7) Marine mining site selection, especially for sand and aggregate,
should be based on a thorough analysis of the available environ-
mental information and relevant socio-economic data necessary for
assessing alternative locational, dimensional and technological
options. In the absence of an antecedent, comprehensive sand re-
source inventory (Guideline 5) there is a need to elicit coastal
current data from local fishermen, divers and others who tradi-
tionally use the area, also encouraging their participation in
future "monitoring" strategies regarding impacts. Final site
selection should consider issues such as biological productivity,

281

alternative present and future uses, and shoreline spoil disposal

and emplacement problems.
(8) Once site selection has been completed, a more comprehensive base-
line study and project management plan for the specific location is
desirable in order to establish detailed operational guidelines for
the contractor. An understanding of the precise physical, biolog-

ical and biochemical characteristics of a site and environmental
quality tolerances of specific biotic communities (which may have
been subjected to prior stress) are required if monitoring activi-
ties with clearly identified standards are to be effective.
(9) A monitoring program should be developed adhering to pre-determined
environmental quality standards. Monitoring parameters should
include: environmental factors most likely to be affected by mining
activities and tolerance ranges of potentially affected biotic
communities to environmental disruptions. Once the parameters are
identified, standards should be set using the baseline and other
pre-existing information. Standards, if exceeded during operations,
would warrant a modification or temporary cessation of activities.
An assessment of available extraction and control options should be
completed to determine the most appropriate system for site condi-
tions. Whenever possible, full scale mining operations for large
projects should be preceded by a pilot mining phase in order to test
impact assessment, monitoring procedures, and control strategies.
(10) Follow-up (post-audit) environmental assessments should be comple
after any temporary or final cessation of mining operations. Fol-
low-up assessments are required to confirm volumes harvested and to
guage the degree of impact on and recovery of the site and adjacent
habitats after cessation of activities. They also represent a means
to fill a critical data gap in the understanding of specific types
of mining activities carried out in local waters, essential to the
development of improved, practical standards and more cost efficient
strategies for future dredging or mining operations appropriate to

the area.

282

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288

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289

Case Study Four

COASTAL FISHERIES MANAGEMENT

LESSONS LEARNED FROM THE CARIBBEAN

Random DuBois

SUMMARY

This study demonstrates the need for more comprehensive approaches
to the management of coastal fish stocks. Caribbean fisheries for spiny
lobster and conch, two highly-valued species occurring throughout the
region and known to be under intense exploitive pressure, were selected
for analysis. The approach taken documents (1) the history of the two
fisheries leading up to present exploitation patterns, both locally and
regionally; (2) the importance of conch and lobster resources to local
economies; (3) the socio-economic effects resulting from their apparent
over-exploitation; and (4) the major constraints on their effective man-
agement. Information was derived from existing literature, a question-
naire distributed to fishery officers throughout the region, and selected
interviews and site visits to the U.S. Virgin Islands, Turks and Caicos,
Antigua, and Belize which confirm the intense harvesting of both conch

and lobster stocks, with possible over-exploitation evident in some

cases. The structure and effectiveness of existing fisheries management
programs are compared and analyzed.
Study findings suggest that:
(1) Long term sustainable utilization of coastal fish stocks re-
quires comprehensive fishery management programs with well defined,
practical objectives and financial, human, and technical resources ap-
propriate to the task.
(2) Data collection and enforcement aspects of management program
implementation can be enhanced through educational outreach activities
and by restricting the number of production and/or processing centers in
order to facilitate the monitoring of regulatory compliance.
(3) Continuing re-evaluation of objectives and criteria for fish-
eries management programs is essential and requires the systematic Col-
lection and interpretation of catch and effort data necessary for moni-
toring the status of fish stocks and harvesting practices.
(4) Management programs must be sufficiently flexible to accommo-
date external impacts of a local, national and regional character which
threaten fish stocks, their habitat and the fishery itself.

292

1. INTRODUCTION

The subject for the present case study is the management of the har-vest of
nearshore marine commercial fisheries. Coastal fishing may well repre-
sent the single most important extractive use of the oceans. Levy (1976)
estimated that over 90 percent of the world's fish catch is derived from

the continental shelf and from coastal upwelling areas. In terms of
employment in the LDC's alone, there are an estimated 12 million fulltime
fishermen and perhaps twice that amount fishing on a part-time basis
(Sfier-Younis, 1980).
The economic significance of marine fisheries varies widely among
developing areas, however. While Valencia (1978) has reported an average
of 2.7 percent of GNP for South China Sea countries; it is less than I
percent in the U.S. Virgin Islands, about 2 percent in Antigua and
Belize, 6 percent in in St. Lucia, 8 percent in Grenada and 15 percent

in Turks and Caicos, where it is a very important source of export gen-
erated revenue (see Section 4). In some developing countries, especially
islands, traditional village-based subsistance fishing activities or
1. artisanal fisheries", are extremely important to the local, non-market
economy and nutritionally and socially significant. Artisanal fisheries
are, however, often placed at risk by attempts at expanded commercial

market oriented exploitation of fisheries resources. Therefore, the
successful development and management of fishery resources requires an

integrated approach which extends beyond the immediate coastal waters to
encompass both the coastal zone proper and the adjacent ocean. This
approach must attempt to reconcile such potentially competitive factors
as the biological and ecological demands of a fish population, the

socioeconomic demands for the stock's exploitation, and other human
activities (for example, sand mining) which impose environmental demands
on the habitat and may endanger the stock's current status. Reconcili-
ation of these three types of demands can be facilitated through the
establishment of a comprehensive management framework which documents
and monitors the status of fish stocks and guides extractive uses and

relevant coastal resource development activities with the goal of optimal
utilization of the species. It is not an easy task, but an analysis of

293

successes and failures of previous approaches to the management of fish
stocks provides lessons and guidelines to serve as a basis for the design
of future management strategies.
The wider Caribbean region was chosen as the area most suitable for
the case study. This was based partially on the author's familiarity
with the region and the presumed availability of a relatively large data
base needed to support the study.
Once the region was selected, the choice of fish stocks was rela-
tively easy. Basically the species had to occur within proximity of the
shore, be well described in the scientific literature, and have been both
the subject of documentable intense exploitative pressures and management
efforts. Based on these criteria the two species selected were the spiny
lobster (Panulirus argus) and the queen conch (Strombus gigas).
The initial approach involved a literature review from which to
develop the proper context for the study and a mailed survey question-
naire circulated to the region's fishery officers soliciting their
views on relevant fishery management issues and potential solutions.
Sites were then selected primarily for their illustrative value
for the purposes of the case study. These were: Antigua and Belize
-- both independent countries, Turks and Caicos Islands -- a British
Crown Colony, and the Virgin Islands -- a U.S. territory (Figure 1).
Some unanticipated difficulties were encountered. First, the
desired documentation of trends in stock status proved to be elusive
due to data scarcity, specifically the absence of significantly long
time series of catch per unit effort (CPUE) and length/weight data. As a
result, the study is based largely on total catch figures, extracted from
export figures elicited by or derived from the interviews and survey
questionnaire, as indicators of stock well-being. A second problem con-
cerned the lack of supporting documentation for such related management
issues as the effects of habitat degradation on fish stocks. Finally,
the depth and quality of the data varied significantly between sites. In
cases where major data gaps occurred, the author attempted to integrate
examples drawn from the literature into the case study.
The author wishes to acknowledge the many individuals who contri-

294

UNITED STATES

GULF Or MEXICO TURKS AND CAICOS

VIRGIN ISLANDS

ANTIGUA
"S,

C A 0180 FA IV SEA

S* N
i

Figure 1. Location map of fisheries case study sites: Belize,
Turks and Caicos, U.S. Virgin Islands, and Antigua.

buted to this endeavor. Those persons who provided special assistance
were: Mr. Winston Miller and Ms. Janet Gibson (Belize Fisheries Man-
agement Unit); Mr. Christie Hall (Turks and Caicos Fisheries Office);
Dr. Scott Siddall (State University of New York at Stony Brook); Dr.
Arthur Dammann (of St. John, U.S. Virgin Islands, and formerly chief
scientist to the Caribbean Fisheries Management Council); Dr. Jerome
McElroy (St. Mary's College of Notre Dame and formerly senior economist
with the Virgin Tslands Department of Commerce); Dr. Melvin Goodwin
(Environmental Research Projects, Inc., Rhode Island); and Ms. Judith
Towle (Island Resources Foundation, St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands).

295

2. BASIC PRINCIPLES

2.1 Management Objectives
A management program must have clear objectives. These objectives, based
on biological, social and economic considerations, are principally fo-
cused on regulating yields of particular species. The variations in
desirable yield may be significant depending on the choice of objective
and the respective weight given the underlying variables. For our pur-
poses there are three objectives commonly considered desirable in fish-
eries management: maximum sustainable yield (MSY); maximum economic
yield (MEY); and optimum yield (OY).
Gulland (1977) has defined MSY as the greatest yield volume that a
stock can produce year after year. It can be most easily conceptualized
in terms of a total product curve used in traditional economic analysis
(Figure 2). In this example of a high-value species, fish yield in-
creases with increasing effort until point E, or MSY, is reached. Be-
yond this point over-fishing occurs when added effort results in declin-
ing total product or yield. This is indicated by the negative marginal
product curve (added output resulting from each added unit of effort).
If the desired management objective is to maximize the economic

returns, defined as the greatest value of catch minus costs of capture,
or MEY, total product yield would be reduced to the point of maximiza-
tion of the marginal product curve (El).
In addition to MSY and MEY, a third objective, optimum yield (OY),
has found increasingly common use in the U.S. Optimum yield attempts to
incorporate both social and cultural considerations with their biological
and economic counterparts characteristic of the previous models so as to
obtain an "optimal" yield of the resource. Optimum yield is generally
set below or equal to MSY and is consequently considered sustainable
(OSY).

2.2 Management Tools
Once agreement on a management objective has been reached, its subsequent
achievement depends on the efficacy of tools applied toward its implementa-
tion. The most common tools employed are (Armstrong and Ryner, 1978):

296

MSY
LU

CK
0

MEY TOTAL PRODUCT
Uj OR YIELD
3:

FISH EFFORT
El E '\\MARGINAL PRODUCT
OR YIELD

Figure 2. Total product curve for a hypothetical high-value
fish stock. (Source: adapted from Knight, 1977.)

297

(1) Limited access. Limitation of the fishery to a defined number of
production units (boats, fishermen, gear type and number).
(2) Closed areas. Prohibition of fishing in spawning or other areas
often considered critical to one or more stages of a species'
lifecycle.
(3) Closed season. Closure of a fishery during specified periods of the
year, usually correlated with peak breeding and/or spawning periods.
(4) Selective harvest. Restrictions on harvesting individuals of a pop-
ulation in critical life cycle stages (moulting, carrying eggs).
(5) Size and/or weight restrictions. Measures to protect premature

or maintain sustainable levels of harvest.
(6) Gear restrictions. Limitations on gear types to reduce efficiency

of harvest.
(7) Quotas. Enforcing individual and/or total catch ceilings.

2.3 Management Constraints
The degree of effectiveness of these management tools is based on several

assumptions.

First, both the monitoring of effectiveness and the measurement of
achievement of management objective presumes on-going data collection.
At a minimum, data should include catch and effort statistics for each

species managed. Total annual catch compilation does not make allowance
for yearly variations in effort, precluding calculation of effort-yield

curves.

This leads to the second assumption, that reported data are reliable
estimates of actual fishing activity. For example, one report estimates
that less than 10 percent of traditional artisanal fish catch is reported
in the Caribbean region (Reintjes, 1979). Failure to account for this
added exploitive pressure on fish stocks can render most management ef-

forts ineffective.

Third, many of these tools require specific data characterizing a
fish stock's population dynamics. In most developed countries this
presents few problems where there are long time-series data sets for

298

coastal species inhabiting tropical waters.
Fourth, it must be recognized that these tools are tailored speci-
fically for the biological management of the fish stock. They assume
that other factors which might affect the "well-being" of target species

are absent. No account is made for such real world externalities as

pollution, illegal foreign fishing, or loss of distant parental stocks
serving to replenish local populations. While these considerations may
be ignored by the theoretician, they must be incorporated into the
manager's program if it is to be a success.
The degree to which these tools prove effective will vary in direct
proportion to the extent they are applied and accepted by the users.
This may be the most complex element in the management process. Enforce-
ment and acceptance of rules of conduct (in our case, fishery regula-
tions) involve a host of variables which include resource user percep-
tions, education, economic need, and governmental enforcement capabil-

ities.

Finally, while limited money and manpower may be important con-
straints, the real key to effective fisheries management programs lies in
their design, appropriateness, and implementation.

299

3. HISTORY

3.1 The Region
The Caribbean basin covers an area of approximately 2.4 million km2.
Within the region there are 31 political entities which include indepen-
dent and associated states, territories, and colonies, commonwealths and
departments. States bordering the wider Caribbean range in type and size
from small islands measuring 98 km2 (Montserrat) to continental nations
as large as 9.7 million km2 (United States).
The region's political and physical variety is matched by a similar
diversity in its economic, cultural and linguistic characteristics. Few
areas of the world can demonstrate a disparity in economic well-being as

extreme as that which exists between the United States and Haiti. In

traveling through the region, one may overhear conversations in French,
Patois, English, Dutch, and Spanish between descendents from West African
slaves, English pirates, Spanish conquistadores, French colonists, and

East and West Indians. This pronounced cultural and ethnic diversity
concentrated in a relatively small area has stimulated development of

resource utilization patterns which have potential applications to larger

and more complex economic systems.

3.2 The Waters

Apart from the large continental shelf areas and localized zones of up-
welling, the Caribbean region's tropical waters are characterized by low
productivity in comparison to temperate waters. This is largely attrib-
uted to the presence of a permanent thermocline inhibiting nutrient ex-
change between water layers and the absence of large land bodies and

shelf areas which serve as sources of nutrients and nutrient traps re-
spectively (Sverdrup et al., 1966). Despite these existing conditions,
small insular shelf areas may be highly prodtictive supporting such ecolo-
gically diverse communities as coral reefs and marine sea grass beds.
These areas also provide sources of habitat for a diverse assemblage of
fish species many of which represent a means of employment and income to
the region's many fishermen. Two species in recent years have grown in
market value to become the region's most economically important fisheries

300

exports and are the subjects of this case study.

3.3 The Resources

The two species chosen for this case study are the Caribbean spiny lob-
ster (Panulirus argus) and the queen conch (Strombus gigas) (Figures 3
and 4). The continued high demand for these two species in both regional
and extraregional markets has resulted in widespread over-fishing of
stocks and, in a few instances, the development of successful management

programs.

3.3.1 Caribbean spiny lobster
The spiny lobster industry began to develop at the end of World War II.

Up until that period demand in the United States was low and satisfied by
production from Florida. In the Caribbean, lobster was mostly caught in
West Indian fish pots as incidental "by-catch" and often used as bait
for fish. As America's taste for shellfish widened and demand began to
increase, an export market developed (Table 1). Today, lobster imports
from the Caribbean represent a sizeable component of total lobster im-
ports into the United States, ranging between 12 and 26 thousand metric
tons in the period 1960-1980 (Figure 5).

During the same period, however, an interregional trade pattern was
also developing for lobster. Demand in the more affluent islands, fueled
by foreign government assistance and rapidly growing tourist industries
(Puerto Rico, U.S. Virgin Islands, French and Dutch West Indies), quickly
exceeded local supply,resulting in new alternative markets for spiny
lobster. It has been the rapid development of these new markets, both in
the U.S. and Caribbean, coupled with rapidly increasing value of lobster
(Figure 6), that has provided the economic incentives resulting in the
region's presently heavily exploited stocks.

3.3.2 Queen conch

Conch, in contrast to lobster, has been a traditional source of protein

throughout the Caribbean. Its use for food has been most common in the
coralline island systems characterized by large shelf areas and limited

301

UNITE 0 STATES

GULF OF WfXjCO

Lt
#A E x I C 0

C AR'Sat-AN SeA

W Li
0
9,LY
VENEZUELA
...........

COLOMBIA SURINAM

...........

0 R A Z I L
0 40ff
L

Figure 3. The area of distribution for Caribbean spiny lobster. (Source: Fischer, 1978.)

UNITED STATES

'E@

M E x I C 0

J 01

4.010
0
LO
aa
-1 NEZ.EL A

COLOMBiA . ...... SURIN@

0 4YO 800
0 R A Z I L
miles

Figure 4. The area of distribution for queen conch. (Source: Fischer, 1978.)

Table 1. U.S. imports of spiny lobster by country, 1960-1980 in metric tons (converted to live weight). a

Cotintry 1960 1961 1962 1963 1964 1965 1966 1967 1968 1969 1970

Bahamas 2,050 2,300 1,830 1,086 1,150 1,350 760 750 1,010 960 1,090
Belize 550 390 400 466 400 470 480 310 600 610 370
Bermuda 0 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 1
Brazil 3,240 4,910 6,390 5,400 3,930 3,660 3,370 2,810 4,780 8,030 8,130
CaVman Ts. c C C c C C c C C c C
Colombia 0 10 0 0 10 40 40 10 70 40 100
Costa Rica 560 980 150 512 220 500 100 160 150 300 400
Cuba 3,900 1,960 130 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Dom. Rep. 0 5 2 2 30 40 70 40 120 90 50
Fr. Guiana 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 80 0 80
Fr. W. Indies 0 0 10 0 0 1 0 0 0 40 40
Guatemala 0 10 20 14 40 60 20 10 10 5 10
Guyana 0 4 0 0 0 0 4 0 0 120 0
0 Haiti 80 100 100 115 170 330 290 330 410 430 300
Honduras 20 60 250 57 180 120 110 160 130 200 1,500
Jamaica 100 90 110 102 110 160 200 150 330 320 420
LWIb 40 4 10 2 1 0 50 40 20 10 10
Mexico 1,500 2,010 1,960 1,470 2,350 2,210 3,060 2,130 2,680 2,770 2,640
N. Antilles 0 5 70 56 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Nicaragua 20 120 420 724 360 660 430 520 440 480 470
Panama 10 220 80 137 1 170 80 10 50 100 320
Surinam 0 20 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 10 30
Trin./Tobago 0 0 1 0 0 20 10 10 0 10 20
Turks/Caicos c c c c c C c C C C C
Venezuela 0 0 30 30 3 70 20 20 90 180 110

Total 12,070 13,201 11,963 10,173 8,955 9,861 9,064 7,460 10,921 14,705 16,091

Table 1. Continued.

Countrv 1971 1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979 1980

Bahamas 1,420 1,940 1,680 1,255 1,204 1,827 1,324 745 1,290 1,763
'Plelize 540 510 410 415 262 281 338 283 456 446
Bermuda 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 77 0 0
Brazil 7,030 8,300 8,070 8,424 7,138 7,069 7,200 9,050 8,306 7,328
Cavman Is. C c C c c 175 21 58 0 58
Colombia 110 320 70 163 315 122 90 49 35 0
Costa Rica 80 100 50 223 229 577 285 342 203 10
Cuba 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Don. Rep. 80 70 100 11 70 90 137 175 261 37
Fr. Guiana 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
F. W. Indies 70 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Guatemala 20 20 40 10 0 0 0 0 0 69
Guyana 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 55 0 0
C) Haiti 300 340 210 235 253 334 193 398 355 315
Ln Honduras 800 400 360 999 2,097 2,504 2,241 2,373 3,497 2,581
Jamaica 780 770 420 336 439 68 0 0 0 0
LWIb 50 100 90 59 82 144 548 253 84 27
Mexico 3,170 2,810 2,910 2,935 3,113 1,144 2,920 2,151 2,477 6,527
N. Antilles 4 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Nicaragua 360 540 760 1,336 2,456 2,973 1,137 3,759 3,255 4,916
Panama 50 150 40 57 78 341 400 158 204 1,859
Surinam 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0
Trin./Tobago 80 20 20 0 50 68 0 0 0 0
Turks/Caicos c c C C 0 233 423 389 477 806
Venezuela 70 20 80 12 0 0 0 0 0 0

Total 15,014 16,400 15,310 16,470 17,846 17,900 17,267 20,315 20,900 25,878

Source: Bureau of the Census, U.S. Department of Commerce. U.S. Imports for Consumption and General
Imports; Streeter and Weidner, 1976.
aConversion factors used: tails to live weight: 1:3; canned to live weight: 1:4.63; unspecified to live
weight: 1:3.
bLeeward and Windward Islands.
cNot available.

40
'@'Caribbean Spiny Lobster Imports
into the United States

..................
................

Canadian American Lobster Imports
C) 20 into the United States
ON

x 10
U.S. American Lobster Production

1960 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 as So 1970 71 72 73 74 75 M 77 78 79

Figure 5. Cumulative totals and relative values of U.S. production and U.S. imports of
Canadian American and Caribbean spiny lobster, in metric tons. (Source: U.S.
Dept. of Commerce, 1981; Streeter and Weidner, 1976.)

x
S $2-
LOBSTER (whole live)%,k
@J
0
P,

CONCH (meat only)

1950 55 60 65 70 75 79

Figure 6. Price per pound of conch and lobster in Florida (1950-1979).
(Source: Stevely and Warner, 1978; Labisky et al., 1980.)

sources of protein (Bahamas, Turks and Caicos, the Grenadines). Conch,
unlike lobster, has also been a traditional intraregional trade commod-
ity, often being exported in exchange for fruits and vegetables from
neighboring islands. Demand for conch in the U.S. market began to climb
in the early 1970's (Table 2). This has been attributed to three fac-
tors: increased restrictions on harvesting Florida's rapidly depleting
stocks, a growing tourist industry in south Florida desiring to consume
local seafood, and increasing Latin and West Indian populations in the
state (most notably Cubans) with a tradition for eating the product
(Stevely and Warner, 1978). As demand has increased in the United
States and elsewhere in the region, so has the value of the product
(Figure 6). The result is non-sustainable exploitation in many areas of
the Caribbean similar to that for the lobster.

3.4 Regional Exploitation Patterns
Due to the region's long and varied history of political affiliations
with several developed continental countries, many of the islands receive
external subsidies and benefits from metropolitan capital and markets
which fuel their development. Such examples include the U.S. Virgin
Islands, the U.S. Commonwealth of Puerto Rico, the French Departments of
Guadeloupe and Martinique, and the various islands which comprise the
Netherlands Antilles. In still other cases, such as Barbados, a long
and productive colonial legacy has provided the island with both exper-
tise and economic links that continued after political ties with the
United Kingdom were no longer deemed desirable or necessary.
As these islands became more developed, increased pressures were
brought to bear on resident fish stocks. The sources of these pressures
included the increased affluence of the local population, a growing cos-
mopolitan resident community, increased tourism and the development of
alternative export markets for selected fish species. To meet demand,
local catches, where they continued to exist, were supplemented by im-
ports of conch and lobster from neighboring, less economically developed
islands or occasionally from large mainland exporting markets. Barbados
is one example of an increasingly cosmopolitan community where tourism

308

Table 2. Conch imported into the U.S. through Miami during the period 1970-1982 in metric tons.

Place of
Origin 1970 1971 1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979 1980 1981 1982

Belize 145.7 265.0 382.9 245.1 376.7 330.5 222.5 159.9 135.8 147.8 87.7 173.6 69.1

Colombia 0 0 39.8 107.7 122.5 50.3 13.5 11.2 62.3 2.5 0 0 23.3

Dominican
Republic 0 0 0.5 24.4 10.1 0 2.1 0 0 6.4 0 79.5 33.9

Haiti 0 0 2.2 4.1 0 0.2 0.2 14.9 58.3 82.8 80.1 160.1 38.0

Honduras 58.0 32.4 88.2 83.4 5.7 36.3 57.7 3.7 21.4 0 7.5 7.2 18.4

Jamaica 0 0 1.5 4.1 28.5 40.7 0.8 0 0 0 0 0 0
0
Mexico 0.2 0 8.6 2.2 0 11.7 3.2 1.8 1.5 0 4.5 0 0

Turks and
Caicos 2.0 2.3 0 0 0 65.9 150.9 221.7 262.8 141.5 256.8 256.3 179.8

West Indies 0 0 1.2 22.1 3.9 7.2 2.2 0 0 0 0 .2

Othera 8.4 0.8 2.7 1.8 2.0 7.8 14.8 2.3 13.2 2.2 5.2 32.7 13.9

Total 214.3 300.5 527.6 494.9 549.4 550.6 467.9 415.5 555.3 383.2 436.9 704.6 376.4

Source: National Marine Fisheries Service, Fisheries Development Analysis Branch, New Orleans, Lousiana.
Taken from Brownell and Stevely, 1981.

Note: Approximately 27,000-30,000 kg of queen conch are imported to the United States each year directly
through New York.

aBahamas, Cayman Islands, Costa Rica, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Panama and Venezuela.

growth created a growing demand for imports which nearby Eastern Carib-
bean islands could not supply in the face of rising local demand
(Table 3). In several islands, native stocks became so depleted that
local consumption had to be met largely by imports. This was the situa-
tion in the U.S.'Virgin Islands (see Section 4.1) and in St. Maarten
(Netherlands Antilles) following the development of tourism in the 1960's
(van Buurt, personal communication).

Table 3. Barbados imports of conch and lobster from the Eastern
Caribbean for the period 1971-1981 (lb x 000).1

1971 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

St. Lucia 2.1 .1 0 0 0 1.0 0 0 0 0 0
Grenada 0 0 0 14.6 1.8 0 0 2.0 0 0 0
St. Vincent 0 0 0 2.9 1.4 15.4 7.0 3.2 .9 0 1.4
Antigua 0 0 0 0 .8 0 0 0 0 0 0
St. Kitts/ 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 .5 1.9 0 0
Nevis
TOTAL 2.1 .1 0 17.5 4.0 16.4 7.0 5.7 2.8 0 1.4

Source: Barbados Govt. Statistical Services, 1981.
lData are summed for fresh, chilled, and frozen categories.

The regional trade patterns which have evolved for conch and lob-
ster over the past 30-year period are depicted in Figure 7. These pat-
terns identify both the region's present exporters and those areas where
stock depletion and/or situations where demand has exceeded supply have
forced countries to become importers of these shellfish. More important-
ly, when interpreted together with the previously cited literature, these
patterns support a growing concern that over-fishing of conch and lobster
may be rapidly shifting from being a local problem to one of regional
proportions.

3.5 Management Responses
At the local level the response to over-fishing and depletion of fish

310

NET IMPORTERS

NET EXPORTERS

UNITED STATES

PUERTO RICO

U.S.V.I.

Anguilla
Bahania Islands
ST. MARTIN
uba St. Kitts
urks & Caicos Barbuda
Antigua
exico MONTSERRAT
Caymn slands Hait' -GUADELOUPE
Ja ica Dominican Dominica
elize Republic MARTINIQUE
t. Lucia
Honduras CURACAO @f-%-BARBADOS
,..-@St. Vincent
ARUBA ,BONAIRE Grenada
-@ @ 1% -4 \'@--;1--:TOBAGO
icazagua TRINIDAD

os ta Pica

Venezuela

0 260 400 669.i. Panama Colombia

Figure 7. Trade patterns for conch and/or spiny lobster between countries in the wider
Caribbean for the period 1981 to 1983 (with case study sites underlined). (Source:
Brownell and Stevely, 1981; Island Resources Foundation, 1983.)

stocks has been the development and implementation of management regula-
tions. Results from the survey questionnaire initiated for this study
(and other sources) indicate lobster regulations are both geographically
more widespread and more restrictive than those for conch (Table 4). The
development of lobster regulations also appears to have preceded their
conch counterparts by at least a decade (the Bahamas is the only known
country to have established a conch management program prior to 1970).
In both cases regulations were implemented subsequent to the development
of the fisheries and in many countries only after stocks began to demon-

strate indications of over-fishing.
Despite the presence of regulations the management of conch and lob-
ster stocks, with few notable exceptions, has proven to be largely
ineffective. This would indicate that regulation alone is insufficient
to guarantee a stock's adequate management, supporting a principal
theme of the case study. To be sure, regulations are considered a
vital component of management especially when tailored to an individual
species' population characteristics. But the regulatory component must

be placed in a larger management framework which includes education,
dissemination and enforcement elements. Finally, and perhaps most
importantly for the purposes of this Casebook, design of a management
program must take place within the larger context of the overall coastal

and marine environment in which stocks are to be controlled.

312

Table 4. Existing regulations for conch and lobster in the Caribbean
region.
LOBSTER CONCH

U)
U) 0
U
(U -H >1 *H
r-q 4-J @4 @w a r@ -W @4
w bo 0 M U W 0 U 0) CO @4
M S -H @a U) M -r-; -CU 'W
(D (V @4 cn (UM (V @4 W 0 w
0) @4 (4-4 4-J U) W @4 -H r-@ (D
w M U) w M (0 4-4 @4
E a (U F= C) M
@J ZI G) @:j -0 @4 '0
EE(UQ)-H Fzaww WJ-,@4
.H.HWW$4@4WU H-r@V)W@4y)uo
r@r@00@4MO4-j
C@
rZ F= U U
Anguilla x - x - - - - - - - - -
Antigua/Barbuda x x x - x - - - - - - - - - - -
Bahamas x x x - x x - - - - - - - - - -
Barbados - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Belize x x x - x x - x x x x - x - - -
Bermuda x x x - x - - - - - - - - - - -
Brazil x - x x x x x - NA
Cayman Islands x - x - - x - x - - - - - - - -
Colombia x x - - - - - - - - - x - - - -
Cuba x - x - x x - - NA
Dominica - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dominican Rep. x - x - - - - - NA
Grenada x - x - x - - - - - - - - - - -
Guatemala x - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -
Guadeloupe x - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Haiti - x - - - - - - - - x - - - - -
Honduras x - - - x - - - - - - - - - - -
Jamaica x - - - x - - - - - - - - - - --
Martinique x - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Mexico x - x - x - - - NA
Montserrat - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - -
N. Antilles - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Nevis/St. Kitts x x x - x - - - - - - - - - - -
Nicaragua x x - x x - - NIA
Panama x - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Puerto Rico x - - - x - - - - - - - - - - -
St. Lucia X x x - x - - - - -- - - - - - -
St. Vincent x x x - x - - - - - - - - - - -
Trinidad/Tobago - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Turks/Caicos x x x - x x - - x - - - x - - -
US(Florida) x - x x x x - - - - - - - - x -
Venezuela x - x x x x - - - - x - - x
Virgin Islands(UK) x - - - x x - - - - -- - - - - -
Virgin Islands(US) x - - x x x - - - - - - - - - -

Sources: Adams, 1971; GCFI, 1980; IRF, 1980; IRF, 1983; Villegas
et al., 1982.

NA: Not available.

313

4. SITE EXAMPLES
For a closer examination of events leading up to the adoption of a man-
agement program and its subsequent effectiveness four sites were visited
and are briefly described below.

4.1 U.S. Virgin Islands
Within the region, perhaps the U.S. Virgin Islands represents the most
dramatic example of depletion of stocks due to excessive demand associ-
ated with growth and tourism development. As late as the early 1950's,
the economy of the U.S. Virgin Islands was based on agriculture dominated
by the production of sugar and its by-products, molasses and rum. The
population was relatively stable at 25,000, actually dropping from
30,000 at the turn of the century. Fisheries, as in many other areas of
the Caribbean, were exploited only for subsistence purposes. Fiedler and
Jarvis (1932) in one of the earliest known written account of the islands'

fisheries did not report conch and lobster as part of the landings.
Upon passage of the "Organic Act" by the U.S. Congress in 1954 (leg-
islation which provided investment tax incentives for business), major
changes in the islands' tax structure and expanding levels of federal

assistance stimulated economic growth principally in the government, ex-
port manufacturing, and tourism sectors. In the latter, growth rates
measured in terms of tourist arrivals and accommodations were exponential.
In the 10 years between 1960 and 1970 alone, visitor arrivals increased
tenfold, the employed labor force tripled, stock housing doubled, real
per capita income rose 10 percent annually and electric and water con-
sumption rates increased, on the average, 20 percent per year (McElroy,
1978).

The changing character of this burgeoning population and rising
affluence also generated a rapid convergence of resident Virgin Islands
consumption patterns with U.S. mainland standards (McElroy and Caines,
1980). These new tastes in combination with income-elastic tourist
patterns have visibly effected the local fisheries. For example, as late
as 1960 enough lobsters were caught in Virgin Islands waters to create a
surplus for export to Puerto Rico (Caribo, 1961). However, by 1967 the

314

U.S. Virgin Islands had become a net importer of lobster and has remained
so to this day (Table 5). Imports of lobster over this period have
reached as high as 75 percent of total consumption, measured in both
weight and value. Moreover,this situation appears to be more than just
a simple case of demand exceeding supply. Recent trends in the fishery,
including an increase in lobster pot thefts, a tripling in market value,
and a decline in average size indicated that the species may be over-
fished (Dammann et al., 1976). This initial conclusion appears to be
further substantiated by interviews conducted in the course of the pre-
sent case study indicating that depletion of lobster stocks in nearshore
areas has caused many fishermen to travel increasing distance from shore
at additional cost and personal risk (Figures 8 and 9).
While CPUE data is being collected in the U.S. Virgin Islands, up
until 1980 it had been reported solely on a voluntary basis. Comparisons
of fishermen's reports with two years of port sampling indicated that
less than 50 percent of all lobster are reported. This data gap prevents
a more objective approach for determining the present status of stocks.
While few data exist concerning the status of conch populations, the
results of interviews indicate that commercial quantities no longer exist
in the Virgin Islands following a trend similar to that described for the
lobster (Figures 10 and 11).
The Virgin Island resident fishing community is small, composed of
an estimated 420 full- and part-time fishermen (Olsen, 1982). The impact
of the apparent decline of these two fisheries on the community's econo-
mic well-being is difficult to ascertain due to the absence of accurate
historical data. Per capita income for fishermen in 1981 was $6,681 of

which less than 20 percent was represented by conch and lobster and the
balance by fish (Olsen, 1982). The disproportionately small share
representing such high-value species suggests a loss of income that is
significant.
Distribution of catch in the Virgin Islands has always been dif-
fuse and characterized by fishermen selling directly to the consumer and
retailer or occasionally to the intermediary. An effort to bring more
structure to the system through the establishment of cooperatives on

315

Table 5. Domestic landings and imports of lobster in the U.S. Virgin Islands (in U.S. dollars).

Domestic Landings Imports Total Consumption Total Consumption
lb (x 000) $ (x 000) lb (x 000) $ (x 000) lb (x 000) $ (x 000) lb (%) $ M

1967 85.9 73 260.1 209 346 282 75 74
1970 NA NA 34.6 24.8 NA NA NA NA
1971 NA NA 52.5 40.2 NA NA NA NA
1972 NA NA 68.0 53.5 NA NA NA NA
1973 NA NA 55.7 NA NA NA NA NA
1974 NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA
1975 49.6a 99a 55.7 NA 105.3 NA 53 NA
1976 86.5a 173a 55.8 58 142.3 231 39 25
1977 129.8a 260a 77.5 60 207.3 320 37 19
1978 157.1a 393a 42.2 69.4 199.3 462.4 21 15
1979 162.7a NA NA NA NA NA NA NA
ON
1980 log.]a NA 81.9 165.8 191 NA 43 NA
19PI 97.7a 415a NA NA NA NA NA NA

qources: U.S. Dept. of Commerce, 1980; Olsen, 1982.

NA: Not available.
a Signifies estimates based on voluntary reported landings.

Cockroach I
: - " / I .k Little Hans Lollik 1.

HANS LOLLIK 1,
Outer Brass

f1v

Inn'
a,D r-h c_j',Cy

salt THATCH CAY_
A, -A \Gkes Coy
C. %@l
-Mingo
v-, 'ayj
x CHARLOTTE- 'vi
AMALIE

"Savans

@VATER 1. Gr.St

Pre s

Suck 1 4

2 3 4 5 Miles

Depleted Grounds
(Traditional)

Figure 8. Traditional and present lobster fishing grounds of St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands.
(Source: LaPlace, personal communication, 1983.)

... . . .. .....

UCK 1.

00
W REDERIKST 1 0

N
NXI
Present Grounds

0 1 2 3 4
Miles

.. . .......
Depleted Grounds

Figure 9. Traditional (depleted) and present lobster fishing grounds of St. Croix, U.S. Virgin
Islands. (Source: Information furnished by Skov, personal communication, 1983.)

Cockroach I
3 kLitlle Hans Lollik 1.

LOLLIK 1.
Outer Brass 11 H AN S

IDutchca-p. Cay

f
c

Salt
day ..THATCH CAY
as Gress Cay
i rw 1 car

--Mingo
.0 '@.Cav
'N
CHARLOTT
X-r, AMALIE

N
0 C:3

0
0
.0

0 1 2 3 Miles
01 j
WATER 1, Gr.St. i
C.r Sabs'l' St.

Depleted Grounds
Buck I
(Traditional) 7capalla Is.

Figure 10. Traditional conch fishing grounds of St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands. N.B. No preser
grounds exist. (Source: LaPlace, personal communication, 1983.)

...............

RUCK 1.

D1 ISTIANST 0
Y /V

f
REDIRIKS-

Depleted Grounds

Mi
0 1 2 les

Figure 11. Traditional (depleted) conch fishing grounds of St. Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands.
N.B.: No present grounds exist. (Source: Information furnished by Skov,
personal communication, 1983.)

both St. Thomas and St. Croix ended in failure. This pattern of distri-
bution has important implications for management and regulatory enforce-

ment of the fisheries which will be discussed in more detail in Section

In sum, with the example of the U.S. Virgin Islands, we have exam-
ined a developing area characterized by over-fishing and an increased
demand for lobster and conch. To explore how the circumstances of the
Virgin Islands relate to those of other parts of the region, we chose to
examine the neighboring island of Antigua.

4.2 Antigua
Antigua,together with its dependency, Barbuda, is fortunate to possess an
extensive shallow water shelf area (2,500 km2) which is rich in demersal
fish resources. Available trade statistics indicate that Antigua was
exporting as much as 200 thousand pounds of lobster as early as 1957-1958,
before reaching a peak of 275 thousand pounds in 1978 (Figure 12). How-
ever, since that period, a decline in landings and subsequent exports
began which has continued into 1982. Estimated landings have declined
from 334 thousand pounds in 1978 to 95 thousand pounds in 1982 for an
average of a 23.5 per cent negative annual change over that same period
(Joseph, personal communication).
Although catch per unit effort (CPUE) data are rare in Antigua, for
the four-year period between 1970 and 1974 CPUE declined from 1.5 pound
to 1 pound per trap, indicating the possible over-exploitation of the
fishery (Peacock, 1976). Further evidence for this condition exists in
records for total landings and the results from discussions with the
Antiguan fisheries officer and local fishermen. One factor substantiated
in these discussions was the necessity for fishermen to leave traditional
fishing grounds as they became depleted for more distant areas elsewhere
(Figure 13), a pattern reminiscent of the one described for the U.S.

Virgin Islands.
There are an estimated 800 (full- and part-time) fishermen in Antigua
of whom approximately 640 depend, at least in part, on income derived

321

250 250

Lobster Exports
Lobster Exports (1969- 82)
0 (1955- 1966)
0
0 200 200
X

z
M >
0
Cl-
150
150 <
>

0
CL
X X
LLI 0
'If 100 0
LLJ 100 0

Tourist Arrivals
0

50 - 50

1950 55 1960 65 1970 75 1980 85

Figure 12. Lobster exports and tourist arrivals for Antigua. (Source: Information
provided by Ministry of Agriculture, Lands and Fisheries.)

BARBO DA

C- Presently Ex ploi ted
L o b s t e r G r c u n d s

T r a d iGtrio0un0adIs
L a bs t e r

t
S a u nd i ngs in
Fat h o ms

A N T I G U A

0 5 10 15 Miles
10,

Figure 13. Traditional and present lobster fishing grounds of Antigua.
(Source: Martin, personal communication, 1983.)

323

from conch an d lobster. While there are no data available to assess the

economic impact of a collapsed fishery on a per capita basis, gross loss
of income to the community must be considered significant.
As a final note, as lobster catches have dropped and tourism has
continued to grow, lobster is increasingly being diverted from export
markets to local outlets (Figure 12). Despite this diversion, there con-
tinues to be a scarcity of the resource during the tourist season which
has resulted in the species being dropped from the menus of several
hotels and restaurants (Joseph, personal communication). If the U.S.
Virgin Islands is a model with potential application to Antigua, the
conversion of Antigua to a net importer of lobster is a real possibility.
Unlike the Virgin Islands, which in an earlier period had alternative
source areas to turn to, Antigua may not have the option as the region's

stocks become increasingly scarce.
Unfortunately, Antigua seems to be representative of many of the
small developing countries which are rapidly exploiting their natural
resources as a means to obtain scarce foreign exchange. However, there
are two countries which have been able to implement efficient and rela-
tively successful management programs for their conch and lobster resour-

ces. These are Belize and the Turks and Caicos Islands.

4.3 Belize
The Belize fishery sector, dominated by the lobster and conch fisheries,
has become one of the country's most important industries. As recently
as the early 1950's fishery exports consisted of only small quantities of

lobster destined for the United States. Now fishery exports are more
significant, exceeding US$6,000,000 in 1982 (Figure 14).
The lobster fishery began in 1921 with the introduction of the first
lobster pot from Nova Scotia (Craig, 1966). Despite the success of the
pot equipment, failures in the packaging plants led to the fishery's
demise in 1935. The Industry was revived with the introduction to the
region of refrigerated cargo boats owned and operated by the U.S. import
companies (Smith et al., 1948). Since that period the industry has grown
(Figure 15) to become the country's most important export fishery.

324

80-

70-

60 - TOTAL EXPORTS

Z 50 -
E
-J

Z
40-
Sugar Exports
-J
-J
0

20-

Garment
Exports
10 - Fish Products

.X ... o. .. ...............
'fr*Citrus Concentrate

1979 1980 1981 1982

Figure 14. Value of Belize's major domestic exports in U.S. dollars.
u g a r

Garme,
E
xp@
rl

Data for 1982 are estimated. (Source: Belize Govt.
Statistical Office, 1982.)

325

TOTAL

CONCH

r** LOBSTER
4

-J 3

.............

I I I I I I I I I 1 1
1965 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 )7 @8 @9 810 811 1 42

Figure 15. Cumulative totals and relative values of fishery exports in Belize, 1965-1982. (Source:
Blakesley (1977) and information provided by the Fisheries Management Unit, Ministry of Health,
Housing and Cooperatives, Belize.)

In contrast to lobster, conch was a relatively unimportant fishery
until the early 1960's. With increased demand in the U.S. market, how-
ever, exports grew from 100,000 pounds in 1965 to a peak of 1.25 million
pounds in 1972 (Figure 16) and are currently the country's second most
important source of "fish"-derived export revenue (Figure 15).
As the fisheries grew in Belize the economic necessity to provide
finished products and negotiate competitively in external markets became
readily apparent. In response the government encouraged the development
of cooperatives whose function would be to "provide procedures and means
for the efficient production, distribution, processing and sale of marine
products through the united efforts and funds of its individual members"
(Gibson, 1978). In fact, according to McElroy (1965), it was the estab-
lishment of the first indigenous lobster processing cooperative in the
early 1960's that shifted the control of market from a U.S. buyer/pro-

cessor monopsony to the local producers resulting in a dramatic rise in
wholesale prices paid to ftsher-nen that, in turn, was largely responsible
for the rapid increases in lobster effort and catch after 1965. Based on
a total of 800 full-time fishermen, gross per capita income was estimated
to be $4,130 in 1982.
Presently there are five cooperatives operating in Belize which
represent over 700 fishermen and 450 boats. The cooperatives are the
only legal means for exporting fish from Belize. They possess processing
and packaging facilities, negotiate export markets annually, provide
loans to their members and import equipment as needed.
The annual financial cycle of a cooperative consists of negotiating
price and quantity contracts with foreign importers prior to the start of
the fishing season. Once the season is under way, the cooperative's mem-
bers receive initial payments for each landing they make. A second pay-
ment is made at the close of the fishing season based on the respective
members' total landings and the external market price and quantities sold
by the cooperative. A third payment is made at the end of the budget
year, based on net profit of the cooperative, and distributed to its
membership as determined by each member's respective number of shares.
The breakdown of costs and revenues of one cooperative, illustrating the

327

1200-

1000-

800- ...........:

Con.h

W
00 0 600- INITlATION OF
0 CONCH MANAGEMENTi
ow
X PROGRAM
Lobster

400%-,'

200-

L
1965 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 1983

Figure 16. Conch and lobster exports from Belize. (Source: Information provided by the
Fisheries Management Unit, Ministry of Health, Housing and Cooperatives,
Belize.)

importance of lobster as a revenue earned, is displayed in Figure 17.
Catch per unit effort data collected for the lobster fishery over
the previous five-year period indicated that present catch levels are at
or near MSY. While the data period was too short to confirm this trend,
the use of alternative analytical techniques (yield per recruit) with
growth parameters derived from Florida lobster populations supported this
preliminary conclusion (Gibson, 1981). These indicators, together with
the fluctuation of total catch figures in a range between 250 and 600
thousand pounds over the last 16 years (Figure 16), led the chief fish-
eries officer to conclude that lobsters were currently being harvested
at MSY (Miller, 1981). In contrast, conch reached an export peak of 1.25
million pounds in 1972 and then fell into a rapid and steady decline,
continuing until 1981 before the trend was reversed and the first in-
crease in catch was recorded (Figure 16).
While lobster preceded conch as an export commodity in Belize,
the history of fishery development in the Turks and Caicos Islands

was just the reverse.

4.4 Turks and Caicos Islands
The Turks and Caicos Islands group, situated at the very southermost
end of the Bahamian chain, is typical of flat coralline islands found in
many parts of the Caribbean (Caymans, Antigua), characterized by a sparse
vegetative cover and few natural resources. Turks and Caicos is fortu-
nate however, to possess an extensive shallow submarine bank fringed by
reefs providing suitable habitat for conch and lobster. The island group
is unique in its long export record for conch extending back to the early
1900's (Figure 18). Doran (1958) described the early years of the trade
as a traditional export fishery to Haiti. The resource was fished by men
working from dinghies operating from 30- to 40-foot sailing sloops. Using
only a water glass and gig, conch were "hooked" to a depth of 20-25 feet
from the surface. The animal was "cleaned" and dried on the sloop. The
product was taken to Cap Haitian, Haiti, where in exchange for conch, the

sloop brought back stores of fruit and vegetables to islands poor in such
produce, and then repeated the cycle.

329

Fillet .7%
Conch 1.3%

Outboard Motor & Access. 3. 5%

Lobster
66.8% Retail Operators 3. 7%

Fishing Supplies 3.9%

Fin Fish 4.6%

Shrimp 5.6%

Fuel and Oil 9.9%

THE INCOME DOLLAR SOURCE

Operating General
30.0% 4.9%

8.2%
Marketing Depreciation
19.7% Financial

12.1%

Administrative
18.8% Other
6.3%

THE EXPENSE DOLLAR BREAKDOWN
e

Figure 17. Percentage income and expenses of Caribena Cooperative for
the operating year 1981-1982. (Source: Caribena, 1982.)

330

4
Oversupply of Conch
in U.S. Markets

-XI 3 Beginning of
X Lobster Fishery
U)

W 2 Closed Season
First Exports of Imposed on Conch
Frozen Conch to U.S. in Belize
Z
0 Depressio

ww II
Initiation of Live
I Conch Shipments
Cl
4AL @Impin-e
I I to S.

1900 10 20 30 40 so 60 70 80

Figure 18. Conch exports from the Turks and Caicos Islands (1904-1982).
Includes both dried and frozen meats. (Source: Nardi, 1982;
adapted from Doran, 1958.)

Doran estimated an average of 1.7 million conch were exported
annually over the years until the late 1950's with a maximum of 3.9 million
reached in 1944. Doran attributed the increases in conch exports at the
initiation of World War I and II to the diversion of cargo ships away from the
region which had been importing alternative sources of protein that
competed with conch. The decline in exports between the two World Wars
was attributed to the worldwide economic depression and decreased pur-
chasing power. The increase in production from the late 1940's to the mid-
1950's was attributed to the development of a frozen conch export market
to the United States. Since that period a diverse range of factors, both
local and external, have been identified as influencing the status of the
fishery, including the development of the more lucrative lobster fishery
(Hesse and Hesse, 1977), passage of legislation in Florida affecting
conch harvesting in 1965 and again in 1971 (Stevely and Warner, 1978),
development of a growing market which began in the United States in
the late 1960's (Brownell and Stevely, 1981), and reduction of supply
from competing exporting countries in the late 1970's (Brownell and
Stevely, 1981). Despite fluctuations in exports of conch, the islands
came to dominate the market during the period 1970-1978 (Figure 19) and
accounted for $717,000 in export revenues in 1981.
The lobster fishery first developed in the late 1950's and has grown
to a level averaging 620 thousand pounds per year for the period 1974-1979,
surpassing the conch fishery as the primary source of foreign revenue
(Kucharski, 1980). Together these two fisheries constitute 95 percent
of all fish export revenues generated, representing an estimated $2.2

million in 1981.
The industry consists of five commercial processing facilities, four

of which are located on South Caicos. While policies vary among plants
fishermen generally can work either as "independents" selling their daily
catch directly to the company or on contract in exchange for use of the
plant's boats and supplies. The industry dominates the island's private
sector, employing an estimated 300 fishermen and Providing additional em-
loyment opportunities to as many as 2,000 individuals working in related
support and service sectors (Hamaludin, 1982). Estimated per capita in-

332

700

600

500-

400
CD
CD
TOTAL

TURKS AND CAICOS
300

200

100

BELIZE

1970 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 1982

Figure 19. Conch meat imported through Miami, 1970-1982.
(Source: Brownell and Stevely, 1981; and information
from the National Marine Fisheries Service, Fisheries
Development Analysis Branch, New Orleans, Louisiana.)

333

come to fishermen from conch and lobster was $5,246.

As in our previous site examples, accurate determination of the
status of Turks and Caicos lobster and conch stocks is constrained by a
poor data base. However, based on the results from interviews with the
islands' chief fishery officer (Hall, personal communication), a plant
owner (Gasgill, personal communication), and a review of the literature
(Hesse and Hesse, 1977; Nardi, 1982), there appears to be a consensus

that conch stocks are diminishing, although there is lack of consensus
whether this is strictly a localized condition or occurs over the entire
shelf area. Nardi (1982) provides data showing conch exports from
1975 to 1981 averaging a relatively constant one million pounds per year,
but it is difficult to ascertain if these levels are sustainable yields
or represent the exploitation of the population's capital base. Fears
of the latter have resulted in new regulations which will be described

below.

There appears to be a higher degree of certainty with regard to the
lobster population as CPUE data exist back to 1974. Based on an assess-
ment of these data and landings dating back to 1959, Kucharski (1980)
states all available evidence indicates the fishery is at or near its

MSY.

334

5. COMPARING MANAGEMENT APPROACHES

In the previous examples, the developing conch and lobster fisheries
in four different Caribbean areas have been outlined, their

economic significance described, and some of the issues associated
with apparent over-exploitation identified. At this point, it would be
productive to examine and compare the individual management regimes
which have been put in place since the commercial development of the
fisheries in each of the four study areas and then attempt to determine
what factors played a role in successful management. However, having
stated our objective, it would be prudent to avoid too rigorous a compar-
ative analysis. This is due, in part, to the paucity of data by which
to judge the "true" status of local fish stocks. Further, natural fluc-
tuations in fish populations, as well as other factors beyond the scope
of the present study, affect stocks and serve to complicate the evalua-
tion of at least the short term effectiveness of a particular management
approach. Finally, each of the four areas have a different development
history and resist strict comparative analyses. Despite these caveats,
drawing comparisons can still prove instructive and are therefore pre-
sented. In the discussion of management regulations, which follows, we
make occasional reference to the management tools previously identified
in Section 2.2 above, but for brevity's sake they are identified by
number only in the discussion of the first study area.

5.1 Belize

As the example with possibly the most successful existing management pro-
gram, Belize is a logical place to begin.
Regulation of lobster first began in 1963. In those regulations,
which have been periodically updated, an annual total allocation was set
to be divided among the cooperatives on the basis of number of members
and past landings. This allocation (currently set at 600,000 pounds) had
the effect of limiting overall catch which, in the case of Belize, is
determined by a best estimate of MSY (tool no. 7). Other regulations
presently include: a 6-ounce minimum tail weight or 3 1/4-inch minimum
carapace length (tool no. 5); a four-month closed season extending from

335

15 March to 16 July (tool no. 3); prohibition of the capture of
egg-bearing and soft-shelled moulting lobster (tool no. 4); and prohibi-
tion of use of SCUBA (tool no. 6).

Unlike lobster, conch remained unregulated until 1977 when the con-
.tinuous decline in landings forced the formulation of management regula-
tions. These are: a minimum seven-inch shell length and three-ounce
(market clean) meat weight (tool no. 5), a three-month closed season
extending from 1 July to 30 September (tool no. 3), and prohibition of

SCUBA use (tool no. 6). Whereas the lack of CPUE data makes it difficult
to judge the effectiveness of these new regulations, the reversal of a
downward trend in 1981 with the first annual increase in conch levels may
in fact be partially attributable to their implementation. Siddall
(1983) estimates queen conch reach average market size in 2 1/2 years.
Based on this evidence and the assumption the regulations have been
effectively enforced, the time period between regulation implementation

and first observed increases in catch would have allowed for three year
classes to enter the size range suitable for harvest.
The key to the effective enforcement of these regulations appears to
lie with the cooperatives. Besides functioning as the principal means to
process, package and export conch and lobster they also function as a
vehicle for managing the country's fisheries. By requiring all fish ex-
ports to be channeled through the five cooperatives, the government has
limited the production centers required to focus enforcement activities.
Through periodic enforcement checks, adequate penalties for violating
fishing laws, and a growing awareness by management of the need for a
regulated fishery to preserve cooperative investments, Belize's fishery
sector has become relatively efficient.
The current personnel support available to manage the Belize fishery
consists of 12 staff members comprising the Fisheries Management Unit
(FMU) with an operating budget of US$86,535. The fishery more than pays
for its management and development through a five percent ad valorem
duty which generated $310,000 for the government in 1982 or 70 percent
more than was expended for government-related fishery affairs that year
(Table 6).

336

Table 6. Management costs, export values, and revenues for Belize's
conch and lobster fishery in U.S. dollars.

FISHERIES MANAGEMENT COSTS AND REVENUES

FISHERIES MANAGEMENT STAFF:

Fisheries Administrator 1 Technicians 2
Fisheries Officers 2 Clerical 2
Asst. Fisheries Officer I Boat Crew I
Inspectors I Watchmen 2

TOTAL STAFF: 12

FISHERIES MANAGEMENT BUDGET AND REVENUES (1983-1984):

Fisheries Budget $ 86,535
Est'd Annual Govt. Revenue from Fisheries $310,000 28%

EXPORT VALUES AND REVENUES

EXPORT VALUE (1982):

Lobster 6105110 lb @ $8.25/lb (approx.) = $ 5,033,407
Conch 314,350 lb @ $2.12/lb (approx.) = 667,993
Other @ $0.89/lb (approx.) = 4575164
$ 6,158,564
Fisheries Budget $ 86,535 1.4%
Gross Export Value of Fishery @-6,158,564

(Conch and lobster total fish production, as percentage of total = 93%.)

ESTIMATED VALUE TO FISHERMEN:

Lobster 610,110 lb @ $4.55/lb $ 25776,000
Conch 314,350 lb @ $1.68/lb 5285108

$ 3,304,108

Gross per capita income attributed
to conch and lobster $ 3,304,108 = $4,130.00 per
Direct employment 800 employee

Sources: Caribena, 1982; information from the Ministry of Health, Housing
and Cooperatives, Belize.

337

It is important to note the role educational activities have played
in assisting the FMU to manage a fishery valued at more than $6 mil-
lion. Through both local and foreign assistance, a wide variety of
programs have been funded which have been directed towards increasing
the community's awareness on a variety of fishery-related issues includ-
ing conservation. These have included short-term training programs
overseas, local workshops, and public information dissemination

activities.

The wide public exposure and involvement in many such educational
efforts can be partly attributed to the development of a relatively large
and sophisticated institutional infrastructure concerned with fisheries
development and management. These include the Belize Fishermen Coop-
erative Association and the Fishery Advisory Board. The Association is a
thirteen-member body elected from the cooperative membership which serves
to oversee cooperative activities and represeaL their interests to govern-
ment (Gibson, 1978). The Advisory Board is composed of members from gov-
ernment and the fishery and business communities with responsibilities to
advise the government on matters which could affect the industry. .
Despite what appears to be a relatively effective national manage-
ment program of an economically significant fishery, problems still
remain. Chief among these are issues of an extra-national character.
Due to lack of enforcement capabilities and disputed territorial waters,
illegal fishing of high-value species occurs most notably in the south in
disputed waters with Guatemala and Honduras. More complicated are ille-
gal transactions involving Belizians selling lobster and conch to for-
eigners, b3r-passing the cooperative system. Black markets such as these
provide outlets for catches beyond the maximum national quota as well as
for illegal lobster (shorts, out of season, egg-bearing). From a manage-
ment perspective this represents a "leak" of a national resource outside
of the existing management regime, the magnitude of which cannot be
determined or controlled within the present management and enforcement
structure. These extra-national issues are not unique to Belize and wilr

surface again in the present study.

338

5.2 Turks and Caicos

In comparing the Belize experience with that of the Turks and Caicos
Islands, one discovers more similarities than differences. Management
regulations for lobster consist of a 3 1/4-inch carapace length and/or
5-ounce tail weight and a closed season from August 4 to March 31. Conch
regulations consist of a minimum meat size of 4 inches and/or minimum
shell diameter of 7 inches. Scuba is also prohibited in the commer-
cial fisheries.

However, due to the perceived over-fishing of conch stocks, the
Fisheries Department is now reviewing all regulations. At present, that
agency is considering the implementation of a closed season and annual
maximum quota for conch as well as a proposal to require that all land-
ings pass through a central landing site to facilitate enforcement ef-

forts.
The fisheries department staff is relatively small (7) in contrast
to the economic significance of the fishery it has been charged to man-
age. The department's present budget is US$56,000, or less than 60
percent of the government revenue generated by the fisheries but propor-
tionately more than the ratio calculated for Belize (Table 7).

As in Belize, in these islands enforcement responsibilities
are appreciably facilitated by centralization of the five pro-
cessing plants in the islands (four are located on South Caicos).
Conservation education activities directed toward the community are
minimal. Rather, there appears to be a reliance by the fishery officers
on the plant owner's long-term self-interest to govern harvesting practi-
ces and facilitate the enforcement officers' duties. The validity of
this assumption is open to question, at least in the case of Turks and
Caicos. If maximization of profit is the sole objective of the company,
one might be able to justify in economic terms a short-term harvesting
strategy characterized by low capital investment, high rates of extrac-
tion and possibly absentee or foreign ownership. In this light, a plant
with little capital investment might accept the trade-off of losing the
long-term sustainable exploitation of a species for the short-term maxi-

mization of profits. Enlightened self-interest cultivated by education

339

Table 7. Management costs, export values, and revenues for the conch
and lobster fishery of Turks and Caicos in U.S. dollars.
(Source: Hall, 1982.)

FISHERIES MANAGEMENT COSTS AND REVENUES

FISHERIES MANAGEMENT STAFF:

Fisheries Officer 1 Clerical I
Inspectors 4 Boat Crew I

TOTAL STAFF: 7

FISHERIES OPERATING BUDGET (1982): $56,000

ESTIMATED ANNUAL GOVERNMENT REVENUE GENERATED FROM FISHERIES:

Commercial Fishing Licenses 300 @ $20 $ 6,000
Boat Registration Fees 150 @ $50 (mean) 7,500
Fishery Plant Registration Fees 5 @ $5,000 25$000
Excise Taxes:
Lobster - 237$396 lb @ 17cents/lb (approx.) 40,115
Conch - 358,702 lb 5cents/lb (approx.) 17,935
$96,550

Fisheries Budget $ 56,000
Govt. Revenue Generated from Fisheries 96,550 J8%

EXPORT VALUES AND REVENUES

EXPORT VALUE (1980-1981):

Lobster
Tails 142$810 lb @ $8.00/lb $1,142,480
Whole cooked 73,640 lb @ $3.00/lb 220,920
Cooked meat 20,946 lb @ $2.00/lb 41,892
Conch 717,404 lb @ $1.00/lb 717$404
Scale Fish 46,054 lb @ $2.50/lb 115,135
@-2,237,831

ESTIMATED VALUE TO FISHERMAN:

Lobster (est'd.) 564,908 lb @ $2.00/lb $1,129,816
Conch 888,318 lb @ .50/lb 444,159
$1,573,975

Gross per capita income attributed
to conch and lobster $1$5731975 = $5,246 per
Direct employment 300 employee

Source: Hall, 1982.

340

may succeed in Belize because the motives of the fishermen and owner are
the same but fail in other areas where economic and conservation objec-
tives differ. These differences must be taken into account by the indi-
viduals responsible for management.
Also as in Belize, the most serious problem facing these islands'
industry, as perceived by the fishing community, is foreign poaching by
fishermen from the Dominican Republic and Honduras. Lack of enforcement
capabilities appear to be the principal constraint to preventing illegal
fishing.
Whereas the two preceding site examples were of relatively "structured"
fisheries in that the control of production was held by only a few enti-
ties (cooperatives in Belize, centralized processing plants in Turks and
Caicos), the Virgin Islands and Antigua are characterized by unstructured
distribution networks. This, it is suggested, places an added burden on

achievement of the effective application of management regulations.

5.3 U.S. Virgin Islands
Management of spiny lobster in the U.S. Virgin Islands was first provided
for in Territorial Act 3330 in 1972. The principal regulations affecting
lobster called for a minimum tail length of 5 1/2 inches, certain gear
restrictions, and the voluntary submission of catch data. Prior to this
date, lobster regulations were limited to a prohibition against the tak-
ing of gravid females and certain general fishery ordinances (e.g.,
prohibition against the use of poisons). Enforcement was confined to
periodic spot checks of the islands' principal landing centers (Fiedler
and Jarvis, 1932).
However in 1980, in response to the federally mandated requirement
to develop fishery management plans, the Caribbean Fishery Management
Council drafted a plan for lobster management. In this plan OY was de-

fined as equivalent to MSY. The lobster population was treated as a unit
sharing a common shelf of Puerto Rico and the U.S. Virgin Islands and
thus subject to the same regulations. The specific regulations proposed
were protection for gravid females and all animals with a carapace length
(CL) of less than 3 1/2 inches and the submission of catch/effort data.

341

To date no management regulations have been developed for conch.
The agency responsible for the management of marine fisheries in the
Virgin Islands is the Division of Fisheries and Wildlife. Within this

agency 10 of the 17 staff members are assigned to fisheries duties. In
contrast to the other examples, responsibility for enforcement lies in
the Bureau for Environment and Enforcement, an agency outside of the
Division but sharing its parent agency (the Department of Conservation
and Cultural Affairs).

A relatively large budget and the ability to defray enforcement ex-
penses through a sharing of resources with other government agencies
gives the Fisheries Division a greater capability to monitor regulatory
compliance than exists in the other three case study areas. The use of
government patrol boats gives the Division a sea-going capability vir-
tually non-existent in the other site examples. In addition, a large
fisheries staff assures a higher frequency of spot checks at landing
sites and retail outlets, while master fishermen are employed to work
with local fishermen and to verify the accuracy of their CPUE data.
All these activities come at a cost, for the Division's operating budget
is more than four times the size of the next highest budget among the
four sites (Belize), amounting to $360,000 for the 1983-1984 fiscal year
excluding the aforementioned enforcement expenses.

5.4 Antigua
Antigua lobster regulations provide for a closed season extending from
December 15 to May 1. There also are prohibitions on the taking of lob-
ster smaller than of 3 1/2 inches carapace length or 10 inches total length
and of gravid females. These regulations, implemented in 1978, represent
a significant increase in the degree of management constraint. Formerly,
legal restrictions only applied to exported animals, including a minimum
size of 4 inches total length and a prohibition against the export of
gravid females (Peacock, 1974).
There are no restrictions on the harvesting of conch.
The export industry is largely in the hands of individuals who serve
as "middle men" between the fishermen and importers. The primary role of

342

these individuals is to identify and negotiate agreements with importers
from the external market, purchase and prepare conch and lobster from
local fishermen, and, finally, arrange for shipment to fulfill their
contractual commitments. Exporters are licensed biannually by govern-

ment.

The Antiguan Fisheries Department is small, consisting of one fisher-
ies officer and a small secretarial support staff. The government's pri-
mary responsibility has been to provide ice for the country's fishermen.
Enforcement activities are confined to periodic spot checks at principal
landing sites and hotels and restaurants.

In recognition of the "inefficiencies" in the present marketing sys-
tem, several fishermen have joined together to form a burgeoning fisher-
ies association with the intent of eventually developing into a coopera-

tive.

5.5 Analysis
In light of these comparisons, we offer several observations. First, a
principal constraint shared by all fisheries management units was lack of
an adequate data base to determine the status of stocks with any degree
of certainty. Secondly, in each unit the stated management objective
for lobster was MSY. Common management tools shared by all were size and
selective harvest (Table 4). However, in terms of number of tools em-
ployed to achieve the stated objective, Turks and Caicos and Belize ap-
pear to have more restrictive management programs and a well-defined
harvest, processing and distribution system which facilitates mon-
itoring activities, unlike the diffuse structure in the Virgin Islands
and Antigua. Finally, of the four examples discussed, only Belize and

Turks and Caicos currently have conch management programs.
At the risk of over-simplification, Antigua appears to be following
the development path previously taken by the U.S. Virgin Islands. Con-
tinuing growth of Antigua's tourism sector is creating shortages of local
conch and lobster, causing cutbacks in the export market. Whether this
trend will continue, resulting in the island's eventual conversion to a
dependency on conch and lobster imports, remains to be seen.

343

On the assumption that we can accept the available evidence indicat-
ing continuing levels of exploitation of lobster stocks at or near MSY in
Belize and Turks and Caicos,and thus a measure of apparent success of

their respective management programs, we can make a few tentative con-
clusions as follows. Management effectiveness of coastal fish stocks, which

is related to the degree of restrictiveness and appropriateness of the
tools applied, cannot be guaranteed by the presence of regulations alone,
and appears to be closely linked to monitoring a few well-defined pro-
duction centers rather than monitoring dispersed harvest and distribution
networks. Savings in staff and budget derived from concentrated facili-
ties is not applicable to Antigua, with its sole fishery officer. This
finding indicates that a certain "critical mass" of management staff is
needed to carry out minimal management functions. Finally, Belize was
the only country which had an extensive outreach and educational program
associated with the fisheries management program, a critical element,

in the author's opinion, in determining the program's success.

344

6. OVERCOMING MANAGEMENT CONSTRAINTS

In light of the four site examples and brief comparative analysis, we
need to identify measures to overcome constraints which block the devel-
opment of effective fishery management strategies in tropical developing

coastal countries.

6.1 National Constraints

6.1.1 Data Base

One constraint is the absence of an adequate data base upon which to de-
velop a management program. The traditional response to meeting this
need has been to by-pass the data collecting phase and adopt regulations
for the same or similar stocks which have been developed elsewhere. In
the case of the spiny lobster, much of the early work on life cycles and
population dynamics was done in Florida. Since the initiation of
management programs based on this work, first by the State of Florida,
then by the Southeast and Caribbean Fisheries Management Councils, many
Caribbean countries have adopted similar regulations.
In another more recent approach, Munro (1983) describes a technique
in which the status of fish stocks can be determined solely by the rou-
tine collection of length-frequency data. The significance of this
technique is the facilitation and simplification of data collection pro-
cedures which would prove particularly relevant to understaffed fishery
units. At present at least one such data collection program is under way
in Nevis and St. Kitts (Goodwin, personal communication) and is being
expanded to include several other Eastern Caribbean Islands.

6.1.2 Enforcement
Once a management data program has been developed, whether designed in-
ternally or adopted from other similar programs, the emphasis shifts to
implementation. Here one meets a second major constraint, the need for
adequate resources, both human and financial, to enforce the newly pro-
posed management regulations.
In Belize, the government's partial response to this need has been
to actively solicit the cooperation of the fishermen in support of the

345

achievement of the stated fishery management objectives. Cooperation is
facilitated through several participatory programs which, in part,
demonstrate that management and conservation of the country's fisheries
is to everyone's own best interest. A similar approach is presently
being pursued by Environmental Research Projects in Nevis and St. Kitts
(Goodwin, personal communication). Both these approaches are in contrast
to the more adversarial relationships which exist between harvesters and
managers in many developed countries. While differences in effectiveness
of regulation implementation may exist between these approaches, for our
purposes the principal advantage of the former is the reduced enforcement
costs implied by the active cooperation of the fishermen in the manage-

ment program.
Enforcement costs can be further reduced when landing sites or pro-
duction centers (cooperatives, processing plants, etc.) are few and con-
centrated. In both the examples of Belize and the Turks and Caicos
Islands, the few sites in need of policing signified reduced manpower
demands and more efficient application of available resources to assure

regulatory compliance.
in countries where effective enforcement procedures already exist
for fin fish stocks but are absent for conch and lobster (or other high-
value resources) due to their relative scarcity (such as in shelf-poor
Barbados), the management of local production can often still be justi-
fied on a cost-effective basis. Continued local production of high-value
species can reduce dependency on expensive imports as luxury items for
the tourist market or domestic consumption. Where the capabilities
already exist to monitor the catch of fish stocks, only a modest addi-
tional effort is required to enforce regulations for conch and lobster
species (assuming landing sites or processing and marketing facilities
are shared with the regulated fisheries). Where these facilities do not
exist or in the absence of any organized fishery, benefits accruing from
effective enforcement of management regulations for small conch and lob-
ster stock sizes may not offset the associated costs.

346

6.1.3 Depleted Areas
Up to this point, we have been discussing solutions to management con-
straints where existing stock levels still justify traditional approaches.
In severely depleted areas where management of the remaining stocks is
largely an academic exercise "reseeding" is becoming increasingly popular
as a management tool for conch. This approach takes advantage of estab-
lished successful mariculture techniques presently capable of raising
conch from eggs to juveniles. Egg supply still remains dependent on col-
lection from the wild, though research is continuing on hormone-induced
spawning of captive females (Siddall, 1983).

While present economic and technical constraints may prevent raising
juvenile conch to market size (Orr, 1983) the development of low-
technology methods and equipment at the University of Miami's Rosenstiel
School of Marine and Atmospheric Science (RSMAS) may make restocking
strategies a viable venture.
In 1981, the Netherlands Antilles, with the assistance of RSMAS,
initiated the Carco project in Bonaire. The project consisted of set-
ting up a small laboratory, collecting conch egg masses, and hatching and
rearing conch to the juvenile stage. The first batch was released in
1983, and the initial findings indicate survival rates are much higher
than expected (van Buurt, personal communication). Other hatchery acti-
vities are currently under way at the University of Puerto Rico and Foun-

dation for PRIDE in the Turks and Caicos Islands.

Advances in culturing spiny lobster have been slow. Its long and
complicated larval phase has so far prevented artificial rearing efforts
to complete its life cycle. Despite these problems initial experiments
conducted by Environmental Research Projects in Grenada, employing
settlement plates to collect recently metamorphosed lobster juveniles for
pen rearing have proved promising.
These restocking tools would be unnecessary in an ideal world where
effective natural stock management is commonplace. But in a real world
characterized by rapidly diminishing conch and lobster populations, we
are fortunate restocking strategies do exist and their continued develop-
ment should be encouraged.

347

6.1.4 Habitat Modification

FAO has estimated that between 50 and 70 percent of the world's commer-
cial fish catch comes from species which utilize coastal and estuarine
areas (FAO, 1980). Uses vary among species and include one or more of
the following: critical habitat for spawning or nursery grounds, feed-
ing sites and protection. Coastal areas also provide the major source
of nutrients to adjacent waters on which the food web is built and fish
populations are dependent.
Coastal alterations without adequate planning can significantly
affect these relationships often at the expense of many of the dependent
coastal species. In the example of the Virgin Islands, due to the ab-

sence of baseline information, we will never know to what extent inten-
sive coastal development during the 1960's and the subsequent loss of
highly productive communities affected offshore conch and lobster popula-

tions.

In recognition of the growing problem of coastal degradation, Odum
(1982) identified three basic approaches to incorporate coastal land use

considerations into fishery management strategies. The first, and Sim-
plest, is to protect the fish populations during the stage of their life
history when they use critical habitat. The second approach is to pro-
Lect specific types of habitat such as in the designation of protective
marine and estuarine reserves. Finally, the third, and most difficult,
is to protect all habitat types which affect the coastal regime.
Recent legislation in Belize represents an example of an approach
which falls between Odum's second and third options. In response to in-
creasing deterioration of the coastal area due to pollution, tourism and
urbanization (Miller, 1981) and the threat it posed to the country's
fisheries, the government approved new regulations which gave the mini-
stry responsible for fishery affairs the power to declare marine reserves
to include adjacent lands. Reserve designation provides a protective
status for the area and prohibits the destruction or disruption of its
environmental quality. Attempts are under way to strengthen the existing
regulations providing for power of review for any proposed coastal land
use activity and to assess potential impact on the nation's fisheries.

348

The common thread shared by these approaches is the importance of
acknowledging the linkages between the coastal area and its marine
fisheries and the need to account for these relationships in both the
management of fisheries per se as well as in the development of a compre-
hensive coastal area management strategy.

6.2 Regional Constraints
Despite evidence of the potential success of many of these innovative
solutions to traditional management constraints, they remain national
approaches which are most effectively initiated at that level. In addi-
tion to these national approaches,several issues argue for a broader
management approach than one based solely on physical or national bound-
aries. For our purposes, we will call these transboundary issues.

6.2.1 Foreign Fishing
one transboundary issue, foreign fishing, represented a major obstacle to
effective management of stocks in both the Turks and Caicos Islands and
Belize examples. This activity in effect circumvents national management
efforts, making them less effective. Such illegal fishing not only
places additional pressure on fish stocks but creates a potentially more
serious problem among local fishermen. The typical reaction by locals
to the realization that foreigners are flagrantly violating management
regulations for fish stocks is to adopt the same behavior. This, in
turn, makes a difficult situation worse and can eventually lead to the
defeat of the proposed management program objectives.
one potential solution may exist in the example of the reciprocal
fishery agreement signed between the United States and the United Kingdom
which has permitted existing and historical patterns of fishing to conti-

nue between the waters of the U.S. and British Virgin Islands. A similar
approach is being followed by Antigua and Guadeloupe to establish the
right of mutal access for fishermen to their respective territorial
waters. These agreements in turn provide the basis for the formulation
of a common management program applicable to the signatory countries'
respective fish stocks.

349

6.2.2 Biological Linkages
Transboundary issues can also be of a biological nature. Experiments by
Ingle et al. (1963), indicating the occurrence of abnormally high densi-
ties of lobster larvae in Florida waters, suggested larvae could have
been transported by ocean currents from distant spawning areas located to
the south of the Yucatan Channel. other researchers have suggested that
lobster larvae are of local origin which have become trapped in gyres
contributing to susbsequent increased population counts (Johnson,
1974). While these explanations have yet to be satisfactorily resolved,
the existence of possible relationships between two populations could
have profound management implications. An example of a recent attempt
to treat fishstocks separated by a political boundary as a single popula-
tion unit is the lobster management plan developed by the Caribbean
Fisheries Management Council. This plan recommended that uniform regula-
tions and a common MSY be adopted by the governments of the
U.S. Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico.

6.2.3 Economic Linkages
These political and biological transboundary examples share an economic
counterpart. If a major producer country introduces a new technology, or
older technologies previously prohibited due to their effectiveness in
harvesting a resource to depletion, the short term effect is to lower
international market prices. This, in turn, puts pressure on producers
in other countries to adopt the same methodology to stay competitive.
In the case of conch, many experts feel that a partial explanation for

the success of the Belize and the Turks and Caicos management programs
has been the prohibition of SCUBA which protects deeper water inhabitants
which act as brood stocks to shallow water populations (Dammann, personal
communication). However, recently increased levels of imports of conch
into the Miami market taken by SCUBA in Colombia (estimated to be 103
thousand kg from the period January to October, 1983, NMFW, New Orleans)
have placed pressure on at least one Turks and Caicos producer to ask the
government to reconsider conch management regulations in the islands
(Gasgill, personal communication). While the expanded use of this tech-

350

nology would eventually result in the depletion of the resource causing
both a shortage in Miami and higher prices, many producers prefer not to
wait. Thus, economic pressure dictated by one country can have a dele-
terious effect on stocks regionally.

6.3 Regional Planning
International transboundary issues must be taken into account in planning
for the management of living marine resources and require some form of
regional strategy to supplement and coordinate existing national appro-
aches. This is not a new concept, and there is evidence that some, al-
beit slow, progress is occurring toward achievement of that objective.

In regard to fishery management, the Western Central Atlantic Fisheries
Commission (WECAFC) in 1980 endorsed standardization of size limits
on spiny lobsters within its area of jurisdiction. This recommendation
was seconded in an informal joint workshop in Costa Rica involving fish-
ery professionals from 23 countries in the west central Atlantic region
(Villegas, et al., 1982). In the area of enforcement, transboundary
issues are also being addressed. Three countries in the region (Barbados,
St. Lucia and St. Vincent) are negotiating the development of a regional
patrol boat capability to enforce newly declared exclusive economic zones
on a shared cost basis. The United Nations Environmental Program's
(UNEP's) Wider Caribbean Regional Seas Action Plan identified
investigative studies of the role of coastal ecosystems
priority issue (UNEP, 1980). it is only through the continuation and
support of these kinds of efforts leading toward a regional management
approach of living marine resources that the long-term sustainable utili-
zation of the common resource will ever be fully assured.

351

7. LESSONS LEARNED

(1) Economic Significance

Coastal fisheries are important to many tropical developing coun-

tries. Conch and lobster fisheries represent major sources of em-

ployment and income to many coastal peoples of the Caribbean. The

two fisheries, in combination, provide Turks and Caicos' primary
source of foreign exchange and account for significant portions of
GNP in Belize and Antigua. Among the four areas studied as exam-
ples, an estimated 2,000 fishermen depend heavily on the income
derived from these two fisheries resources, earning an average
income ranging from US$4,000 to $7,000.

(2) Market Considerations
Harvest pressure on coastal fisheries is extremely sensitive to
market demand. In most cases cited in the study, no commercial
market existed for conch or lobster prior to 1950. Lobster was
considered a nuisance fouling fish pots, and conch was harvested
only for local consumption, Turks and Caicos' 14aitian market being
the exception. Rapid increases in demand attributed to increased
consumer sophistication and the development of alternative markets
led to increases in exploitative pressures on lobster. Similarly, in
response to declines in Floridian conch populations and increased
demands from the United States' Latin and West Indian populations
augmented by tourism, market prices rose, providing the incentive
for conch exportation to the United States.

(3) Over-fishing Risks
Rapid increases in fishing pressure in the absence of management
constraints can result in over-fishing and eventual stock depletion.
In all sites described in the study, with the possible exception of
Belize's and Turks and Caicos' lobster fisheries, increased pressure
to export conch and lobster resulted in apparent rapid population
declines. This pattern appears to accurately depict a larger re-
gional phenomenon, based on the results from a survey questionnaire.

352

Depletion of fish stocks may result in significant local social and
economic costs. The U.S. Virgin Islands represents a good example
of decreases in local stocks, coupled with increased demand, result-
ing in a reversal of the territory's traditional role, i.e., from
lobster exporter to importer of both lobster and conch. There are
indications that Antigua is following the same pattern. Other

11 costs" include the increased distances fishermen must travel to
exploit new grounds, lost income from reduced catch, and secondary
costs such as reductions in supplies of traditional protein sources
in Haiti and Turks and Caicos as the regional market for conch
developed.

(4) Management Requirements
The existence of fishery regulations alone do not assure a stock's

successful management. In all site examples, with the possible ex-
ception of Belize, the apparent declines in lobster populations took
place despite existing regulations. This implies that effective
management requires a more comprehensive approach which includes, in
addition to appropriate regulations, educational outreach programs
to solicit active cooperation from the fishermen and community at
large, adequate enforcement and data collection activities.
0 Increased management efforts characterized by more stringent har-
vest regulations were developed only after over-fishing of conch and
lobster become evident. Despite widespread indications of local
stock depletion, present lobster regulations were implemented only
recently in the U.S. Virgin Islands (1980), Belize (1963 and amended
periodically since then), Antigua (1978), and Turks and Caicos
(1973). Presently, conch remains unregulated in the U.S. Virgin

Islands and Antigua. These results appear to be generally indica-

tive of the situation in the wider Caribbean region based on

information collected from the questionnaires.
Successful management programs can be both efficient and economical.
In terms of cost, both Belize and Turks and Caicos represent exam-
ples of areas where ad valorem taxes based on exports of conch and

353

lobster bring in income which far exceeds the costs of management.
In addition, management effectiveness can be increased at reduced
costs by encouraging active cooperation from the fishermen through
outreach programs (Belize), and concentrating the number of landing
sites and/or production facilites required to monitor for com-
pliance.

The absence of adequate data collection programs is a major con-
straint on the management of fish stocks. The case study adequately
demonstrates the difficulties encountered in detertT.ItiAng the status
of fish stocks in the absence of sufficiently long time-series data

collection. Gross catch statistics do not account for effort in-
vested and thus are inappropriate to judge the effects of fishing
pressure on stocks and the effectiveness of the management program.
Methodologies have been developed which simplify data collection
procedures and provide staff-short fishery units with the means to
make rudimentary assessment of fish stocks.
The increased incidence of fishery issues which are of an interna-
tional (transboundary) nature argue for new integrative approaches
to fishery management. These issues demonstrate the need for a more
holistic approach to fishery management. On a national basis this
may include the adoption of review measures for coastal development
activities which threaten critical coastal habitats or species
shared with adjacent states or territories. Regionally, the de-
velopment of bilateral or multilateral management programs may
be required.

354

8. GUIDELINES
(1) Management objectives should be defined prior to the development of
a fisheries management program. Management objectives will differ
depending on whether the stated goal is maximization of catch, net
revenue or a larger set of socioeconomic benefits. In most cases,
levels of yield will change between goals. It is the desired yield
level which will serve as a target of the fishery program and govern
the selection of the appropriate management tools.
(2) A comprehensiHe fisheries managementprogram requires the systematic
collection and analysis of data. The status of fish stocks and in
turn the effectiveness of the management program cannot be deter-
mined without minimally collecting catch per unit effort (or length
frequency) data over a sufficiently long period to identify trends
in fish populations.
(3) To increase the effectiveness and chances of success of a management
grogram, the active cooperation of Droducers and harvesters should
be pursued. Sustainable yield management objectives are ultimately
in the best interest of the producers as well as the consumers. An
active effort to Involve the users of the resource (the fishermen)

in management program design is essential. This participatory
approach should extend to the designing of management regulations.
Mechanisms should be established to provide means for ongoing dia-
logue and education in both directions. Where possible, fishery
management should be approached as a cooperative venture rather
than an adversarial one especially in countries where artisanal
(subsistence) fisheries survive side-by-side with commerical

fisheries.
(4) Facilities for commercial fishery landing and product processing
should be concentrated to facilitate monitoring for regulatory
compliance. Dispersed landing and distribution sites create
excessive demands on enforcement staff. In countries where finan-
cial constraints dictate that government management and enforcement
programs be highly efficient, marketing or processing "control
points" can ease monitoring and enforcement procedures.

355

(5) Research activities should be integrated in a comprehensive manage-
ment program. Most existing fish population models have been devel-
oped in temperate latitudes and have little relevancy for tropical
fish populations, suggesting the need for new models more appropri-
ate to tropical systems. Research is also needed on the linkages
between tropical coastal habitat modifications and fisheries

activities.
(6) In addition to monitoring and governing fish harvest activities, any
framework for fisheries management needs to monitor other coastal
resource harvesting and development activities which may adversely
affect fish stocks. Increased losses of coastal fish production
attributable to habitat degradation, from pollution or other en-
vironmental modifications,signify the need for a management mechan-
ism which will evaluate the possible impact of proposed development

on coastal fish stocks and provide means for mitigation. Options
for such a mechanism include incorporating an environmental impact
assessment requirement for coastal-related projects, empowering the
existing fisheries management unit with a review function or the
creation of a multiagency body to resolve conflicts over coastal

resource use.
(7) Where coastal fisheries are significantly affected by forces of a
regional nature, bilateral or multilateral organizations or agree-
ments may be required to remedy the problem. The apparent increas-
ing incidence of issues of transboundary nature which affect
coastal fish stocks demonstrate the inadequacies of national or
local management approaches. New management approaches and mechan-
isms must be developed to address and resolve transboundary issues.

356

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361

APPENDIX I

Summary, Sources and Methods of Data Acquisition

One phase of the data collection process consisted of mailing one
survey questionnaire to each Caribbean country fishery officer (or
equivalent where the position did not formally exist). The objectives of
the survey were to obtain an additional perspective on the important
issues related to conch and lobster management as well as to collect
further information for the completion of the case study.
A master mailing list was compiled from a list previously developed
by the author for an earlier survey, personal knowledge of particular
individuals in the field and through information provided by the National

Marine Fisheries Service.
of the 34 countries (colonies, commonwealths etc.) identified within
the geographic distribution of conch and lobster, surveys were mailed to
27 officers. The remaining seven countries, due either to recently

completed or pending trips, were deleted from the list as the question-
naires were considered redundant to scheduled personal interviews in each

of the countries.
The format (Attachment 1) consisted of six parts requesting general
information and various data concerning the harvesting, marketing, impor-
ation, management and discernable trends in the status of both conch and

lobster.

of the 27 questionnaires mailed, 13 were filled out or responded to
by letter for a 48 percent rate of return (Table 1). Together with the 9
countries visited, information was collected from 22 of the 34 countries
equivalent to 65 percent of the total. Data from the remaining 12 coun-
tries were obtained through review of the literature, use of the results
from previous surveys (IRF, 1980), and contact with other investigators
in the field. In general, while the latter approach suffi ced in col-
lecting basic information relating to the two species, more detailed
and/or current data concerning their status were scarce.
Three tables have been constructed summarizing the information ob-

362

Attachment 1

ISLAND RESOURCES FOUNDATION

May 27, 1983

Coastal environments in many developing countries are under-
going significant alterations as a result of development ac-
tivities. One approach to understanding these changes is to
document examples of current coastal resource management prac-
tices in these countries in order to anticipate future uses of
the coastal zone as well as needed technical assistance pro-
grams @y bilateral/multilateral agencies.
As a phrt of a larger documentation/case study effort initiated
by U.S. AID and the U.S. National Park Service, the ISLAND
RESOURCES FOUNDATION is presently examining the effectiveness
of sustainable-yield management strategies in the development
of coastal fisheries in the Caribbean region. Our specific
objectives are to document the development of the conch and
spiny lobster fisheries in selected Caribbean countries, iden-
tify effective local management practices where they exist,
determine why certain approaches have been effective and
evaluate their potential application to other areas in the region.

To assist us in the early stages of this effort, we have de-
veloped a questionnaire (enclosed) which focuses on information
about resource utilization patterns as these have developed over
time on a country specific basis. While we recognize how time
consuming questionnaires can be, we also observe that well-
documented case studies will provide a basis for more effective
management of the Caribbean's renewable resources. To help build
a solid information base, we are asking for your input to this task.
We shnid also emphasize that our documentation effort is not
simply,another "shelf study" but will ultimately influence the
techn
.;Wal assistance efforts of international aid agencies sup-
porty.%. fisheries development programs in the Caribbean region.
We hope you will be able to help us in this effort by returning
the enclosed questionnaire at your earliest convenience. A
return envelope is also provided. Thank you foryour cooperation.

Sincerely,

Edward L. Towle, Ph.D. Random DuBois
PJRESIDENT MARINE RESOURCES SPECIALIST

/Ss
Enclosures (2)

RED HOOK CENTER BOX 33 - ST. THOMAS, U.S. VIRGIN ISLANDS 00802 - (809) 775-3225

363

Attachment I

ISLAND RESOURCES FOUNDATION

CARIBBEAN REGION CONCH AND LOBSTER CATCH AND MANAGEPENT QUESTIONNAIRE

PART I - GENERAL INFORMATION,

COUNTRY (OR TERRITORY)

CURRENT FISHERIES OFFICER

ASST./DEPUTY FISH. OFFICER

BEST MAILING ADDRESS

QUESTIONNAIRE COMPLETED BY DA,
Reimbursement for the airmail postage for yes
returning questionnaire is requested.
We would like to receive a questionnaire yes no
summary and the IRF "Bulletin".

INSTRUCTIONS FOR FOLLOWING PAGES OF THIS QUESTIONNAIRE:

When citing quantitities of landings of conch and lobster, please
specify if these are live animals OR lobster tails or conch meat
(without shell).

When citing value, please specify currencylunit (for example:
EC dollars1lb. or US dollarslkilo, or any equivalent). Indicate
BOTH currency and weight or volume unit used. Conver@ to US dol-
lars if convenient. if not convenient, please cite official
currency exchange rate for the currency used.
Feel free to elaborate or cite special seasonal or location!(,
variations or exceptions (using the back of each questionna,
.14e
page for any extended remarks).
Whenever possible, enclose with the returned questionnaire
any available and relevant recent fisheries statistical dat.A@,
reports, or summaries. We shall reimburse you for postage
and return any documents provided if requested to do so.

7 H A N K Y 0 U.

RED HOOK CENTER BOX 33 - ST. THOMAS, U.S. VIRGIN ISLANDS 00802 - (809) 775-3225

364

Attachment I

PART 11 - HARVESTING THE RESOURCE,

1. HOW MANY FISHERMEN DEPEND ON FISHING (CONOI, LOBSTER AND FINFISH) AS A LIVELIHOOD?

FULL TIME PART TIME
2. HOW MANY FISHING BOATS ARE CURRENTLY REGISTERED?

3. HOW MANY FISHING VESSELS ARE MOTORIZED?

4. HOW MANY FISHERMEN DEPEND, AT LEAST IN PART, ON FISHING CONCH/LOBSTER?

BOAT OWNERS CREW OTHER

5. WHAT WERE THE ESTIMATED QUANTITITES LANDED FOR EACH RESOURCE FOR THE MOST RECENT YEAR FOR
WHICH DATA EXISTS?

CONCH (year

LOBSTER (year

6. WHAT HAVE BEEN THE RECENT TRENDS (CHANGES) IN LANDINGS OF CONCH? LOBSTER?
CONCH (year prior to no. 5 above)
LOBSTER (year prior to no. 5 above)
CONCH (five years ago)

LOBSTER (five years ago)

7. HAS THE TRADITIONAL METHOD UTILIZED FOR HARVESTING THE RESOURCE CHANGED, AND NOW?

CONCH (Iradi tional) (present)

LOBSTER (traditional) (present)

8. WHAT ARE THE RANGES OF DEPTH AND PRIMARY GEOGRAPHICAL LOCATION(s) CURRENTLY FISHED FOR:

CONCH - DEPTH LOCALITY (ies)

LOBSTER -DEPTH LOCALITY (ins)

PART III - MARKETING THE RESOURCE.

9. WHAT QUANTITY OF LANDINGS PER YEAR IS:
a) SOLD DIRECT TO THE CONSUMER? CONCH LOBSTER
b) SOLD TO LOCAL TOURIST FACILITIES? CONCH LOBSTER
c) EXPORTED? CONCH LOBSTER
10. WHAT IS (ARE) THE PREDOMINANT EXTERNAL DESTINATION(s) FOR EXPORTS?
CONCH LOBSTER
11. IN WHAT FORM IS THE RESOURCE EXPORTED (FRESH, FROZEN, CANNED, ETC.)?
CON CH LOBSTER
12. WHAT IS THE MOST RECENT PRICE OF THE RESOURCE AT DOCKSIDE (WITHIN THE PAST 12 MONTHS)?
CONCH: HIGH LOW _ LOBSTER: HIGH LOW
13. WHAT IS THE MOST RECENT PRICE OF THE RESOURCE SOLD FOR EXPORT?
CONCH: HIGH LOW _ LOBSTER: HIGH LOW
14. WHEN DID SIGNIFICANT (OVER 20% OF THE CATCH) EXPORT OF THE RESOURCE FIRS
T BEGIN?
CONCH: LOBSTER:

365

.Table 1. Sources of Data for the Case Study.

W
@4
-4
CO @4
Q) a)
@4 C,
0 H 41
.14 M 0
4--j 0
LO r
0
H
Cx >

4-4
0 :1
Ce -W
4-j @4

4-1
CZ
P

4--1 41 4-J
Q) Q) H H

Anguilla x x
Antigua/Barbuda x x x x
Bahamas x x x
Barbados x x x x
Belize x
Bermuda x x x
Brazill) x x
Cayman Islands x x
Colombia x x x
Cubal) x x
Dominica x x x
Dominican Republic x x x
Grenada x x
Guatemala x x
Guadeloupe x x
Haiti x x x
Honduras x x
Jamaica x x x
Martini ue x x
Mexicoll x x
Montserrat x x x
N. Antilles x x x
Nicaragua x x
Panama x x
Puerto Rico x
St. Kitts/Nevis x x
St. Lucia x x
St. Vincent x x
Trinidad/Tobago x _x
Turks/Caicos x
U.S. (Florida) x
Venezuela x x
Virgin Islands (U.K.) x x
.Virgin Islands (U.S.) x
"Data on lobster only.

366

information was not provided, responses were vague, or the literature
failed to address the issue, it was noted by the designation N.A. (not
available).

Table 2 describes the currently perceived status of the respective
fish stocks by fishery officers. "Stable" can be interpreted as equal to
or near MSY. "Good" signifies under-utilized stocks, and "unknown" in

most cases was attributable to lack of information on which to base a

judgement.
Table 3 lists only those categories identified by the fishery of-
ficers in their responses. Illegal fishing pertains to both national and
foreign fishing activities.
Similarly, Table 4 lists only those constraints identified by the
respondees in the questionnaires. One response, poverty, was incorpor-
ated under the socio-economic constraint category.

367

Table 2. Estimated present status of the conch and lobster resource
in Caribbean nations.

Depleted/--- Stable Good Unknown 'Source--
Overfished
Conch Lobster
(C) (L) C L C L C L

Anguilla X X S.V.
Ant./Barb. X X 1983 Q
Bahamas X X 1983 Q
Barbados X 1983 Q
Belize X X S.V.
Bermuda X X 1983 Q
Brazil N.A.
Cayman Is. X X 1983 Q
Colombia X X 1983 Q
Cuba N.A.
Dominica X X 1983 Q
Dom. Rep. X X S.V.
Grenada X 1980 Q
Guatemala X X 1983 Q
Guadeloupe N.A.
Haiti X X S.V.
Honduras X X 1983 Q
Jamaica X X 1983 Q
Martinique N.A.
Mexico N.A.
Montserrat X X 1983
N. Antilles X X 1983 Q
Nicaragua N.A.
Panama X X S.V.
Puerto Rico X X L.R.
St. Kitts/N. X X 1983 Q
St. Lucia X 1980 Q
St. Vincent X L.R.
Trin./Tob. X 1980 Q
Turks/Caicos X X S.V.
U.S. (Fla.) X X L.R.
Venezuela X 1980 Q
V.I. (U.K.) X X S.V-
V.I. (U.S.) X X S.V.

Source Key:

S.V. =Site Visit
1980 Q = Island Resources Foundation Fisheries Questionnaire, 1980
1983 Q =Island Resources Foundation Fisheries Questionnaire, 1983
N.A. =Not Available
L.R. =Literature Review

368

Table 3. Major causes of depletion of the lobster and conch resource
in Caribbean nations.

Lobster Conch

r,
0 0

@4 @4
4J 4-J

W
a 4-4 a:1 t4-4
M M
rq H -1 4-1
4-4 4-4 CO w
CO 4J I to 4J @4
Q) H
0
> CO ;>
0
Anguilla
Ant./Barb. X 1983 Q
Bahamas X 1983 Q
Barbados X 1983 Q
Belize X X S.V-
Bermuda X X X X 1983 Q
Brazil N.A.
Cayman Is. X X 1983 Q
Colombia N.A.
Cuba N.A.
Dominica X X 1983 Q
Dom. Rep. X S.V.
Grenada X L.R.
Guatemala N.A.
Guadeloupe N.A.
Haiti X X S.V.
Honduras X X X X 1983 Q
Jamaica X 1983 Q
Martinique N.A.
Mexico N.A.
Montserrat X X 1983 Q
N. Antilles X 1993 Q
Nicaragua N.A.
Panama X S.V.
Puerto Rico X X L.R.
St. Kitts/N. X 1983 Q
St. Lucia X X X X S.V-
St. Vincent N.A.
Trin./Tob. N.A.
Turks/Caicos X X S-V.
U.S. (Fla.) X L.R.
Venezuela N.A.
V. I. (U.K.) X X S.V.
V. I. (U.S.) X I X S.V.
Source Key: S.V. = Site Visit
1980 Q = IRF Fisheries Questionnaire, 1980
1983 Q = IRF Fisheries Questionnaire, 1983
N.A. = Not Available

369

Table 4. Principal constraints to effective management of the conch
and lobster resource in Caribbean nations.

W
a)
Z
r@
0

Z Q)
@4 rZ
Q) @-4
W
0 a)
0 0 a Z
r. 0 CO
0 U
U Q) CO
4-4 Y) 44
0 rZ M 0 Z
0 0 Q)
14 @4 @4 -S& CZ
U 4-4 U 4-J
0 M CO CO W Source
1@ r:1 E-@
Anguilla X X S.V.
Ant./Barb. X 1983 Q
Bahamas X 1983 Q
Barbados X X 1983 Q
Belize X S.V.
Bermuda X 1983 Q
Brazil N.A.
Cayman Is. X 1983 Q
Colombia N.A.
Cuba N.A.
Dominica X 1983 Q
Dom. Rep. X X S.V.
Grenada N.A.
Guatemala N.A.
Guadeloupe N.A.
Haiti N.A.
Honduras X 1983 Q
Jamaica X X X 1983 Q
Martinique N.A.
Mexico N.A.
Montserrat X 1983 Q
N. Antilles N.A.
Nicaragua N.A.
Panama N.A.
Puerto Rico X X L.R.
St. Kitts/N. X 1983 Q
St. Lucia X S.V-
St. Vincent N.A.
Trin./Tob. X L.R.
Turks/Caicos X S.V.
U.S. (Fla.) N.A.
Venezuela N.A.
V.Io (UoK.) X X S.V.
V.I. (U.S.) X X S.V.
Source Key: S.V. = Site Visit NoA. Not Available
L.R. = Literature Review
Q 1983 = IRF Fisheries Questionnaire, 1983

370

Case Study Five

COASTAL FISHERIES, AGRICULTURE AND

MANAGEMENT IN INDONESIA:

CASE STUDIES FOR THE FUTURE

R. Eugene Turner

SUMMARY

Two case histories in Indonesian coastal management are described as
revealed through field visits, interviews, literature review and author's
experience. One case study involves an agricultural development plan for
a Java estuary. It was rejected in favor of maintaining the existing
estuarine-dependent coastal fisheries. The second study reviews a single
purpose and massive agricultural land reclamation in the sparsely popu-
lated coastal swamps of South Kalimantan. Lessons and guidelines devel-
oped include recommendations for 1) integrated and flexible long-term
ecosystem management involving local, regional, and state resource agen-
cies, 2) comparative field studies of existing programs to determine
trends in agricultural yields, cumulative impacts, and social structure
and function, and, 3) conservation of ecosystem functions, particularly
those of mangroves, which support sustainable economies.

374

1. INTRODUCTION

This paper presents two case studies on the coastal management of
Indonesia. The Indonesian setting is briefly outlined and then the two
case studies are described individually in terms of geography, management
issues, and present situation. Broadly stated 'lessons learned' from
these case studies follows next. This paper concludes with specific
guidelines applicable to individual management situations in Indonesia and

elsewhere.

Indonesia is a logical choice for study because Indonesia's coastal
zone is Indonesia. The 2 million square kilometers of 13,677 islands are
about two-fifths the area under her jurisdiction. Five of the world's ten
largest islands are in Indonesia. Her population is the fifth largest in

the world and exceeds the combined total of all other southeast Asian

nations. In the year 2000 it is projected to reach 220 to 240 million
people. Approximately 61% of the population live in districts bordering
the 62,000 km coastline. Java, with only 7% of the land area, has 62% of
the population living at 620 persons per square kilometer. Consequences
of the present 2.34% annual population growth rate (Figure 1) are that
people are either migrating to less populated islands or trying to produce
more in already crowded living space near the sea. Tensions and conflicts
inevitably develop and the long-term resource stability is tenuous.
The government has attempted to address the pressures of a growing
population in three ways: population planning, increased resource exploi-
tation, and opening up new areas for agriculture and transmigration in the

375

300

C
200

C
0

CL 100-

Indonesia

Java, Madura, Ball
01
1700 1800 1900 2000

YEAR

Fi,'@IlArfa 1. P-)-nulation growth in Indonesia over the last t:wo hundre,-! y.,-ars
(from various official govexnmr@nt

29 - 150
27 - 140
25 - 130 z
120 2
z 23 -
0 21 - POPULATION 110

z 19 - 100
0 z
17 - RICE PRODUCTION - 90 0
16 - - 80
-j
M
13 - - 70 IL
0
11 - 60 fk

0
1950 52 54 56 58 60 62 64 66 68 70 72 74 76 78 80

YEAR
we. MaduraBall, @lndonesia
0._ I

Figure 2. Rice production from 1-950 to 1980 (from Oldennan a-..id Fr@re,
1982).

376

coastal zone. Population planning does not appear to be successful, at
present. However, total rice production has tripled from 1950 to 1980 and
per capita production increased from 130 kg to 200 kg over the same period
(Figure 2). The increase in rice production in the 1950s was almost
entirely due to an increase in land under cultivation. Since then the
production per unit area has increased from 2,050 kg per ha to 3,000 kg per
ha of rough rice. Most of the increase has been from wetland rather than
upland rice.
In spite of these remarkable increases, Indonesia has been annually
importing roughly 2 million metric tons (mt) of the world's 8 million mt
of rice exports (Afiff et al., 1980) and the gap between national pro-
duction and demand is widening. In years of poor yields, such as 1977, up
to one-third of the world's exportable supplies have been purchased to
maintain price stability. Thus, decreasing imports and increasing foreign
exchange earnings are important for maintaining both food supplies and
financial stability. In 1981-1982 oil exports were 82% of the total export
earnings. In 1983 oil earnings tumbled by 30% (Arndt, 1983). The natural
resource base is thus under increasing pressure to make up the difference.
Vast expanses of sparsely populated coastal land outside of Java,
Bali, and Madura may seem to be the hoped-for relief from overpopulation
and to be a stimulus for economic development. A national goal has been
to move large numbers of the rural poor and often landless people into the
estimated 40 million hectares of potentially productive agricultural coastal
swamplands (Andriesse, 1974). Three purposes have dominated official trans-
migration planning from as early as 1902 to the present day
(Tjokroamidkjojo, 1977; Hardjono, 1977; Charras, 1982): 1) reducing popu-
lation in densely settled areas, 2) expanding manpower to areas of short
supply, and 3) extending control of the central government to the lesser
developed outer islands. The intensity of transmigration has varied from
an annual average of 1,013 people from 1905 to 1931, to between 6,900 and
24,000 people from 1932 to 1969, to an average of 36,480 from 1970 to 1974
(Jones, 1979). Most, but not all, of the interprovincial movement is
between what is known as the 'inner' islands of Java, Bali, and Madura and
to the other 'outer' islands (Figure 3; Hugo, 1979a, b, c). The majority

move from Java to Sumatra.

377

IAceh 17 W Kalimantan
2N Sumatra IS CKalimantan
3W Sumatra 19 SKalimantan
4Riau 20 EKalimantan
5Jambi 21 NSulawesi
6S Sumatra 22 CSulawesi N
7Bengkulu 23 SSulawesi
8Lampung 24 SE Sulawesi
25 Maluku
28 Irian Jan

2
-4 20 21

3
is f @26
2 26
1

10 26
9Jakart: 15
,0 W Jav Is
11 C Java
12 Yogyakarts
13 E Java 0. @O km
148a11
16 W Nusetenggara
16 E Nusatenggara

Lifetime migrants 1971
1 250,000
2 17 20 60,000
3 4 is 22 21

23 24

8
11 13
10 14 CD (a)

Figure 3. Migration between provinces as of 1971 (from Hugo, 1979a). The
provinces are shown in the top panel, the net lifetime movement in 1971
in the bottom panel.

378

Both government sponsored and spontaneous migration occur. Govern-
ment sponsorship may include transportation, temporary housing, food for
12 to 18 months, tools, education and health facilities, and seeds.
Acreage allotments are presently about 2 ha per family. The spontaneous
migrant, a distinctly different type of migrant, arranges for his own
personal transportation and settlement although rations and tools are oc-
casionally supplied.
Although transmigration policies are changing (Suratman and Guinness,
1977; Hjardjono, 1977), projects still suffer from mismanagement, agri-
cultural difficulties, and social conflict (e.g.,.Jakarta Post, 1983).
Optimistic predictions of the numbers planned to be moved have routinely
not been achieved. But people have moved. However, total migration is
small compared to population growth. Jones (1979) points out that while
some 990,000 people were moved from 1932-1974, Java's population grew by

39 million.

Rice cultivation was, and still is, the primary concern of new settle-

ments. The newly settled land is usually not on the neutral volcanic soils
found on Java. Significant differences in climatic regimes and soil exist
between islands as one would expect (e.g., Fyfe et al., 1981; Oldeman and
Fr6re, 1982). In 1978, for example, the average national yields of rough
rice were 3,170 kg per ha. They were 2,175 kg per ha in Kalimantan, but
3,755 kg per ha on Java (Oldeman and Frc@re, 1982).

In contrast, supplies of animal protein, particularly marine fish-
eries, appear to be reaching a maximum for present technology (Figure
4). In 1955 the average production from fresh water and brackish water
fish ponds was 379 kg per ha and 224 kg per ha, respectively (Soekarno,
1959). In 1980 production was 1,724 kg per ha and 519 kg per ha, respec-
tively (from Annual Reports of the Indonesia Directorate General of
Fisheries). From 1960 to 1980 the total yield from inland fisheries in-
creased an average 1.3% annually, compared to 11% for marine fisheries
(now approximating a steady-state situation).
Indonesia is struggling to find socially acceptable solutions to the
natural resource problems before reaching the limits of climate, soil
fertility, social cohesion, energy resources, and technology. Her resources

to do so may seem large but they are limited too. Indonesia has only one
sixty-fourth of the total per capita government expenditures of the United

379

1.0

U 1960 -1981

E
CD 0.5
0

01
0 1 2 3 4 5 6
10 4 Powered Boats

Figure 4. Marine fisheries production and the number of motored vessels
in the fleet, from 1960 to present (from Annual Reports, Directorate
General of Fisheries of Indonesia).

alay ia 0

PO nak

am
- @

le ang anjarmasin J

Tidally Influenced Swamps

Figure 5. The location of the tidally influenced swamps and two study
sites in Indonesia. 'A' is Segara Anakan. 'B' is the Pulau Petak delta.

380

States (in 1978), but a similar population size and a larger territorial
jurisdiction. Already there are constructive discussions and serious dif-
ferences within the government about the merits of using coastal mangroves
primarily as a forestry, offshore fisheries, pond culture, or agricultural
zone. Traditional land use practices are changing with the expansion of
the central government via roads, canals, and movement of official trans-
migrants into sparsely inhabited lands. There is a sense of urgency to
quickly meet these challenges before opportunities and solutions disappear.
In the face of such expansion and rapid change one may rightfully ask "is
a man with an empty belly able to think in terms of safeguarding his own
environment against disaster?" (Andriesse, 1979).
The purpose of this study is to present two apparently contrasting
examples of coastal management in Indonesia to illustrate some lessons
framed in a local context. The two areas are a brackish estuary near
Cilacap on Java and a coastal swamp near Banjarmasin, Kalimantan (Figure
5). The Javanese estuary is on the most densely populated island in
Indonesia and perhaps in the world. In contrast, Kalimantan is 28% of
Indonesia's land area, but it has only 10% of the country's population and
is growing at a mild 1.4% annual growth rate. The Javanese example is the
result of foregoing an agricultural development project in favor of main-
taining an existing coastal fisheries. The Kalimantan project is primarily
designed to open up new lands for farming settlements in an area of
traditional farmers. In both cases coastal management has not reached
equilibrium but is dynamically developing. A complimentary third case
study is described for coastal swamps in Sumatra by Hanson and Koesoebiono
(1979).
These case studies involve six activities commonly found in the
coastal management programs of other countries: 1) fishing and shrimping,
2) aquaculture, 3) agricultural reclamation, 4) forestry, 5) conservation
of protected areas, and 6) research and training. Powerful interest groups
often conflict over these land uses with a concomitant and seemingly
unnecessary loss of time and energy. The intent here is thus to help
resolve unnecessary conflicts and to reduce tensions in the coastal zone.
Indonesian society developed many historically valid approaches in this

area and is thus a good natural laboratory for the study of past and pre-
sent management and the trial use of new options.

381

I thank J. Clark, R. Allen, C. Neil, S. McCreary, M. Wells and two
unidentified reviewers for constructive comments, Ms. D. Baker, drafts-
person and Ms. B. Grayson, typist. Mr. and Mrs. Kaswadji were delightful
hosts in Indonesia. Drs. Burbridge, Collier, Salm, Soegiarto, and Watson
helped significantly to illuminate issues and gather literature.

2. SEGARA ANAKAN

2.1 Introduction and Area Description
This case study concerns a tropical estuary, Segara Anakan, which was
proposed to be converted into irrigated rice fields. First, the pre-project
geography and management is described. Second, the proposed development
is discussed as revealed by internal working papers, project summaries,
and external reviews prepared by Indonesian and international consultants.
Finally, the decision to stop development as planned and the events oc-
curring since then are reviewed 1) to illuminate what the important manage-
ment issues are now, and 2) to lay the foundation for the sections on
'lessons learned' and 'guidelines'.
The Segara Anakan estuary is located near the town of Cilacap on the
south coast of Java (Figure 6). It is subject to tidal action from the

Indian Ocean through two channels. The major channel is at the southwest

corner near where the Citanduy River enters the estuary. An eastern water-
way connects the estuary to the Donan River and the port of Cilacap through

a shallow tidal divide. The Cibeureum River enters from the north and the

Nusawuluh weir diverts water and sediments into the estuary. The other
main tributary rivers are the Kayumati, Cikijang, and Jagadenda. The
central lagoon and tidal channels of approximately 8,000 ha are surrounded
by intertidal swamp, consisting mostly of mangroves (Rhizophora sp. and
Avicennia sp.), nipa palm (Nypa fruticans), and shrubs, which encompasses
24,000 ha. This area represents 50% of the remaining mangrove area in
Java (Sukardjo and Akhmad, 1982) and is the only major mangrove zone in

the south Java coast.

Small subsistence-level fishing villages with a total population of
30,000 people are within the estuary and there are about 3,500 ha of rice
fields in the former swamps (Figure 7). Another 3,000 ha are periodically
cleared for marginal rice swamp fields, fishing poles, boat materials, or
firewood. Though brackish water fishculture has been practiced on Java

382

LEGEND:

proposed
reclamatioi
(m- arga

3 2 1 0 1 2 3km
MMC==2

SEGARA
ANAKAN

ENIK

au
KALI NG
CIBEURE
00

EGARA

AJINGKLAK

MUSAWE E

-------- ----- UMB N
us AM AN AN

IL P

Fi.gure 6. The Selglara Anakan estuarv.

-9 'gN'

Nq
*4

- - @7.z

Figure 7. Scenes from the Segara Anakan estuary. Top left: the South-
western channel leading from the mouth of the Citanduy River to the Indian
Ocean past the island Nusa Kambanggan. Top right: a village in the middle
of the estuary which once was on the waterfront, but is now behind man-
groves following siltation. Bottom left: a village sailboat used for
fishing and transportation. Bottom right: villagers resting on a
recently completed log canoe built from a tree poached off of Nusa
Kambanggan. Photographs by the author.

384

since at least the 13th century, or earlier (Soekarno, 1959; Sukardio and
Akmad, 1982), there is little present in Segara Anakan. A motorcraft
transports people and light cargo within the estuary and to Cilacap and
the Citanduy River village of Kalipucang. A 30-km-long island, Nusa
Kambangan, separates the estuary from the sea on the southern estuarine
margin. A prison and wildlife refuge are on that island. The 12,000-ha
island is composed of tilted beds of reef limestone and limestone, and
volcanic breccias which may reach 100 m high at the beach. It was densely
forested in 1974, but is now heavily cut over.
Cilacap is the only major ocean port on the south coast of Java.
Plans were underway in 1975 to modernize the port and harbor facilities.
In 1984 the Cilacap oil refinery will represent 30% of the installed
refinery capacity for Indonesia (Arndt, 1983). The city population is
about 90,000 people, or 5,000 persons per square kilometer. The employed
labor force is probably 35,000-40,000 persons. Excellent quality shrimp
and fish are caught by artisanal fishermen in Cilacap (Figure 8). The
fishing industry of Cilacap has been increasing since 1971-1973 when the
first large trawling vessels began to enter the fleet in significant
numbers (Figure 9). The Citanduy River fisheries'landings from 1968 to
1973 averaged 36,000 kg.

2.2 Development
2.2.1 Pre-project Management
The Segara Anakan is under the jurisdiction of the Department of
Forestry. In Dutch colonial times the intertidal forests were considered
public lands and therefore not open to private ownership. Attempts to
regulate mangrove forests in Java were made in 1933 when the Ministry of
Public Health prohibited the cutting of mangroves within 3 km of a village
in order to control the mosquito population. The Ministry of Agriculture
later tried to introduce silvicultural methods to the Cilacap mangrove
forest. Under Regulation No. 13062/465/BIR-1/7/1938 the forest was
divided into three areas of production. They included a zone of a minimum
seed tree density and minimum diameter cutting size amid a zone of clear-
cutting, an area of coastal and riverine protected reserve, and a zone of
unproductive forest (Burbridge and Koesoebiono, 1982). Sagala (1956) re-
examined the Cilacap mangrove forest and his recommendations formed the
basis of mangrove management practices for Indonesia until 1979. The

385

Figure 8. Fishing people, equipment and yield from the Cilacap-based
fisheries. Top left: specimens sold in the daily government auction.
Top right: these boats travel 5 km offshore with gill nets, hook and
line, and small monofilament trawls. A small motor is often used to
. t_l I

supplement sails. Bottom left: fresh and dried fish in a local store are
by-products of the shrimp fisheries. Bottom right: part of the daily
catch. Photographs by the author.

386

CATCH x103

AN
10

102BOATS

0
1970 1980

YEAR

Figure 9. The officially recorded catch of fish and shrimp at Cilacap
(from the local fisheries officer in Cilacap). The catch rose in the
early 1970s as trawlers, mostly from Sumatra and Jakarta, entered the
fleet. In 1980 a total ban on shrimp trawling went into effect.
75

m 50

C
0
0

0
1900 1950 2000

YEAR
Figure 10. The estimates of lagoon area for different periods as recorded
from two different sources. Data points shown as circles are estimates
M T

A T'

iAN

from Hadisumarno (1964, 1979). The data points shown as triangles are
from Ludwig (1983b).

387

modified practices adopted in 1972 promoted the following (adapted from
Burbridge and Koesoebiono, 1982):
1) No logging within 50 m of the coast or within 10 m of a river.
2) Logging is permitted only in 50-m strips at a right angle to the
coastline, with a 20-m strip between to be left uncut for re-
generation and seed trees.
3) Only trees greater than 7 cm diameter could be cut in the pro-

duction strips.
4) Supplemental planting of seedling must be carried out if natural
regeneration is not adequate.
5) Logs are to be removed by rafting or artificial channels.
6) A 20-year rotation cycle should be observed.
Additional regulations that apply to large lumber concession owners
include the requirement for an inventory by the concessionaire, cutting
limits determined by the Department of Forestry, and restrictions on the
area as determined from estimates of seed tree density.
Complications often arise between owners of the local fish ponds, or
tambaks, and the Directorate General of Forestry when tambak construction
encroaches into the public forest lands, such as mangroves. A modified
tambak forest system of mangrove plantings surrounded by 4- to 5-m ditches
(used to transport logs and to grow fish) was introduced to overcome con-
flicts. There has been modest success with a 10-ha plot in Cilacap as of
1977 (Burbridge and Koesoebiono, 1982). The difficulties with this system
include unclear property ownership, which makes it difficult for prospec-
tive operators to secure bank loans, snakes and birds that find refuge in
the trees where operators work, and the problem that operators are trying
to maximize production of the milkfish Chanos chanos, which eats algae,
not mangrove detritus.
In 1976 the Directorate General of Fisheries instructed all provin-
cial governors to set aside a 400-m-wide 'greenbelt' around the estuarine
water edge. This vegetated zone, or greenbelt, was thought to act as a
buffer zone and to provide for most of the estuarine functions which man-
groves significantly influence. These instructions conflicted with the
Department General of Forestry and a mutual agreement has not yet been
reached. This leaves the tambak fishermen in a tenuous position when
applying for funds, permission, and technical assistance.

388

2.2.2 Project Development
Increasing food supplies, mostly through expansion of rice fields,
was, and still is, the primary consideration of proposals to manage Segara
Anakan. Farmlands surrounding the estuary are only marginally successful
because of acid sulphate soil conditions, salinity intrusions, and poor
drainage. Salt water intrusions during the dry season affect groundwater
supplies, surface water quality, and crop irrigation. Inhabitant per
capita dollar earnings, health standards, and integration into society are
thought to be inadequate compared to others on Java. There is obvious
evidence that the lagoon is filling in. By 1974 there was a sense of
urgency to do something to compensate for the presumed declining fisher-
ies, diminishing opportunities to stabilize water resource supplies and
quality, and to increase opportunities for development. Related issues
include the threat of increased pollution from an expanding Cilacap
Harbor, malaria, and the general welfare of the population.
The proposal to meet these concerns evolved from the staff managing
the upstream watershed conservation and development project on the
Citanduy River (Engineering Consultants, Inc., 1974a, b; 1975a, b, c).
Its purpose was to convert the lagoon into a freshwater lake and to
control water surface at mean sea level by constructing cut-off dikes and
tide gates at its outlet to the sea. Levees would isolate the present
lagoon from its eastern tidal connection. After two years of lake fresh-
ening, the surrounding tidal lands, once deforested, would be reclaimed by
leaching the soils. Low-income families from Java would then settle the

area over ten years. The Citanduy River would be diverted directly into
the Indian Ocean. The newly constructed lake was to serve as a freshwater
supply for Cilacap, for irrigation, and as a large fish reservoir. Expected
ancillary project benefits included increased recreational opportunities
and reduced demands for construction of the nearby proposed Jeruklegi

Reservoir.

Total project cost was estimated to be $26 million (U.S.; in 1973).
Estimated annual maintenance costs after ten years were $763,000 (U.S.) com-
pared to annual benefits of $3.9 million. Recognized development problems
included the sensitivity of these soils to shrinkage following excessive
drainage, soil toxicity (mostly due to sulfides arising from subsurface
marine clays), retraining of migrants, relocation of the existing popula-

389

tion, and fish stocking in the new lake. The environmental impact state-
ment was probably the first prepared for any development project in

Indonesia.

These proposals, once articulated, were evaluated by local, regional,
national and international management agencies. Experts were consulted
for specific areas of concern. After ten years the project has not been
authorized, and unanticipated developments have changed the situation from
what existed in 1973. Three characteristics of Segara Anakan became im-
portant obstacles to project development: 1) sedimentation rates in the
estuary, 2) the importance of the local fisheries, and 3) the resistance

from the local inhabitants.

2.2.3 Sedimentation

Sedimentation within the estuary is important because of its influence
on fisheries, vegetation, soil properties, water quality, potential for
reclamation and continuing productivity. Explicit arguments used in favor
of quickly beginning the project were that reclamation would be more diffi-
cult and less successful as the estuary filled in, that fisheries would
decline, and that future uses of the proposed freshwater lake would become
less obvious. Further, if the lagoon were perceived to be lost in 10 years,
then why should an agency wait for the inevitable rather than assist the
process? Estimates of sedimentation rates made in the original project
surveys, and subsequently, placed the lagoon life at 5 to 150 years with
closure occurring within 10 to 20 years. Accurate predictions are
essential, therefore. There are two ways to obtain them: with a sediment
budget, and empirically, by following the historical trends.
Sediments enter the Segara Anakan from three major sources, the
Segara Anakan catchment area, the Citanduy River and its tributaries, and
shoreline sediments transported by littoral drift and tides. The Citanduy
River is leveed for a major portion of its lower length and does not lose
much sediments from overbank flooding. Its catchment basin is presumed to
be a minor source of sediments since less than 15% is agricultural land.
The estimates of sediments brought into the Segara Anakan with and without
an upstream sediment diversion, the Nusawuluh Diversion, are in Table 1.
Documentation for lagoon filling began in 1900 (Hadisumarno, 1964;
1979). Figure 10 summarizes two estimates of lagoon area. When the
Nusawuluh diversion was completed in 1977, the sediments moving into the

390

Table 1. Sedimentation estimates (dry weight) for the Segara Anakan with
and without the Nusawuluh Diversion (from Engineering Consultants, Inc.,
1975a; p. ii-2, and calculations based on Figure 10).

Source With Diversion No Diversion

from the Segara Anakan 0.55 MCM 0.55 MCM
Catchment
from the Citanduy River 1.30 MCM 0
annual total 1.85 MCM 0.55 MCM
assumed trap efficiency 75% 75%
total annual sedimentation 1.4 MCM 0.4 MCM

Table 2. Fish and shrimp production in Segara Anakan, 1972 (from Turner,
1975).

Item Total Weight (kg) Value ($ U.S.)

fish 115,000 18,600
shrimp 378,000 75,600
Total 493,000 75,600

Table 3. The projected annual impacts on fisheries based on average em-
ployment on Java and official landings statistics for the Segara Anakan
development project of 1975 (from Turner, 1975).

Conservative Estimate of Changes to Occur
1000 $ U.S. Mt Fishermen employed

inshore +108 +311 +2,600
offshore -5,760 -10,350 -5,000
net -5,650 -10,040 -2,400

NOTE: A more moderate estimate of changes to occur was $9.76 million
dollars annually (based on higher shrimp yields, greater export earnings
from shrimp, and including impacts on the local subsistence economy).

391

lagoon increased by an estimated 236% (Table 1). If the sediment supply
has been increasing since 1900, as one might expect following watershed
deforestation and cultivation, then the sedimentation trapping efficiency
of the lagoon is decreasing.
The historical filling in of the bay is about 0.6 square kilometers
annually. The average depth of the lagoon is presently 1.2 m, so the
average recent annual historical sedimentation rate approaches 0.72
million cubic meters, wet weight, or 0.50 MCM dry weight. This is close
to the estimate in Table I before the Nusawuluh diversion went into opera-

tion. There is still no conclusive evidence that the sedimentation rate

went up after the diversion. Infilling seems to be proceeding at similar
rates as before the diversion. Further, the Gulunggung volcano erupted
in 1982 leaving an equivalent ash contribution many times the annual
stream-derived sediment which normally enters Segara Anakan. The best
analysis seems to be that at historical rates the lagoon would be closed
by the year 2025, if it were to close at all. However, tidal channels are
already showing signs of deepening, and with rising sea level (Gornitz et
al., 1982) and declining trapping efficiencies, it is more likely that
there will always be a smaller and stable residual lagoon.
2.2.4 Fisheries

The principal economic and subsistence activity among the population
in Segara Anakan is fishing. Fish capture within the lagoon is accomplished

using stationary V-shaped traps located in shallow areas and oriented to
capture on the ebb tide. Their orientation in southeast Segara Anakan
delineates the tidal divide between the lagoon and Cilacap harbor. Throw
nets, hook-and-line, and crab traps are also used. Stationary nets are
placed parallel to mangrove banks to collect shrimp leaving on ebb tides.
Weir traps and gill nets are sometimes situated at the ends of small
drainage channels.
The catch consists mostly of crabs, small mysid and penaeid shrimp,
and mullet (Table 2). The movement of the shrimp and fish between the
nursery ground in Segara Anakan and the sea is continuous but peaks during
the wet season. As the organisms mature or are forced out by increasing
amounts of freshwater, they are caught in the 200-300 V-shaped weirs. The
villagers have learned from experience which phases of the moon are best

392

for each species. These fish are either eaten, sold to the fish coopera-
tive in the village, or transported to the regional auction.
The Directorate General of Fisheries estimated from partial market
surveys that the daily catch from these traps is between I and 5 kg each.
The villagers from Mutean said in interviews that their catch was 3-5 kg
and 10-15 kg per man during the dry and wet seasons, respectively, and that
they eat about 1 kg daily per family. Based on the number of traps and
limited interview data, the actual annual catch is 400-660 kg compared to
the average for Java of 458 kg per man in 1973. In 1972 the catch was
estimated to be 493 metric tons worth $24 (U.S.) per fisherman.
The production per water surface area within the estuary lagoon was
estimated to be about 163 to 86 kg/ha, depending on whether the lagoon or
lagoon + tidal sloughs were included, respectively. This compared to a
small fish pond production rate in Java of 1,200 kg/ha.
Fisheries potential in the lagoon was originally predicted to
decrease as sedimentation decreased the open water area.
A very important consideration that vitally affects the
future of fishing in this area is the fact that the shoaling
of the waters due to an accelerating rate of sediment deposit
within the lagoon is reducing the already poor annual fish
production. If conditions are left unchanged, the remaining
period for productive fishery is projected to be about 20 years.
If the project were to be built, the fishery production could
be maintained indefinitely. (Engineering Consultants, Inc.,
1975a, p. 11-19).
There was no evident decline in the catch statistics for landings
from 1962-1972, however. Instead, there was a fluctuation related to river-
flow patterns of the Citanduy River. Data accumulated since 1975 also
support that conclusion.

The Directorate General of Fisheries, aware of the potential loss of
a large estuary near a major fishing zone, began survey work on the plank-
ton and shrimp larvae in the area (Naamin, 1972; Naamin and Sudradjat,
1973; Martosubroto and Sudradjat, 1973). A joint Indonesian-UNDP study of
the Cilacap fisheries was initiated simultaneously and led to the documen-
tation of the growth and decline of the fishing fleet (Naamin and Zalinge,
1974; Zalinge and Naamin, 1977). At the same time the United Nations (FAO)
was concerned with the relationships between mangroves and fisheries.
Coincidental with the project proposal, the author of an FAO report on
shrimp and mangroves (McNae, 1974) consulted with the Directorate General

393

of Fisheries and encouraged their participation in discussions. The original
planning document was circulated by the Ministry of Public Works to various
ministries, knowledgeable environmentalists in universities, and to BAPPENAS,
the lead planning agency. The subsequent critism led to new studies by

Indonesian scientists and the request to the contractor to examine certain
issues more closely.
A separate evaluation of the lagoon fisheries was eventually commis-
sioned (Turner, 1975) which examined the couplings between the intertidal
mangrove community and the fisheries in the lagoon and offshore. It is
unclear if such a relationship is primarily due to habitat or food resources
but it occurs worldwide (Turner, 1977). Where there are mangroves, there
are penaeid shrimp; if there are no mangroves, marshes or seagrasses, there
are virtually no commercial quantities of penaeid shrimp. The fish present
in and near Segara Anakan have a similar dependence on the mangrove. As a
result, the shrimp and fish harvest following project development was pre-
dicted to decrease in proportion to the loss of mangrove area, and the
employment and export earnings from shrimp fishing were also predicted
to decline significantly (Table 3). Additional concerns included the
retraining of fishermen into farmers, pesticides from the new agricultural
areas affecting the remaining fisheries, and aquatic weeds originating
from upland watersheds taking over the open water surface area. The logic
of extrapolating from small fish ponds to large reservoirs was also
questioned. Closing off the Segara Anakan was conservatively estimated to
result in an annual net loss of 5.5 million dollars (U.S.), 10,000 mt
of fish and shrimp, and 2,400 jobs (Table 3). A more moderate estimate
was an annual loss of $9.76 million.
Such large considerations equalled 33% of the total construction
cost, two times the projected annual project benefits, and ten times the
projected maintenance costs. Additionally, valuable export earnings from
foreign-sold shrimp would be lost.
2.2.5 Villagers' Perceptions
The villages apparently existed in 1835 after being established as
"watch posts" to supervise trade routes between Cilacap and Kalipucang.
At one point villagers were enticed by the government to move to
Patimuan, but after selling the land given to them, they moved back to
Segara Anakan. Recent efforts by transmigration officials to move

394

people out of the estuary to government transmigration sites have been
unsuccessful. In one year 90% of the people moved came back. The next
year less than ten left.
As the lagoon has filled in, the area of mangroves has expanded sea-
ward. Villages have either moved seaward or have become sequestered inland
along the tidal creeks and channels (Figure 7). No village has been closed
off to the estuary, and none have been abandoned.
Since 1979 the Segara Anakan villagers successfully initiated an effort
to ban Cilacap fishermen from entering the bay to fish. There have also

been conflicts between the fishermen aboard offshore trawlers and the fisher-

men from Segara Anakan and Cilacap who fish outside the estuary from small
boats. The trawlers were to remain outside the normal fishing range of
the smaller vessels. They often did not and communal strife, including
combat, resulted. Collier et al. (1977) have described this elsewhere in
Java. Finally, a 1980 Presidential Decree banned trawlers from Java, Bali,
and Sumatra. In 1983 it included all islands except certain joint ventures
in the Arafura Sea. The results have pleased the local fishermen, but
resulted in a drastic decline in fisheries'yields (Figure 9).

2.3. Decisions

The 1975 consultant's report, together with three other independently
written ones, provided a strong argument for the Directorate General of
Fisheries when presenting their case for an unchanged situation to the
Central Bureau of Planning, BAPPENAS. BAPPENAS "did not expect these im-
plications for the shrimp industry at all, and decided to make further
studies, before reaching a final decision" (correspondence from one of the
participants). By then the precarious national financial situation,
highlighted by overspending by the government-run oil company, had become

serious.

Subsequently, another review was prepared on the impact of the recla-
mation on coastal fish stocks. Marr (1976) concluded that to modify some
portion of the estuary was better than to take no action. He proposed to

reclaim the western half and to leave the rest unaltered. Marr estimated

that the estuary would fill in within 5-15 years (as of 1976) with a sub-
sequent loss of shrimp nursery grounds and mangroves. National and expa-
triate fisheries experts by then had completed more studies of the devel-
oping fishing industry and contributed to the continuing critique of the

395

proposals. The availability of Marr's new report offered another oppor-
tunity for criticism and additional means for communication between the
Directorate General of Fisheries, then firmly opposed to the project, and
BAPPENAS. Permission for the project was ultimately denied.
2.4. Subsequent Events and Analysis
During the last ten years a number of Indonesian institutions have
investigated and monitored various aspects of the estuary. These have
ranged from individual projects, to team research funded by external agen-
cies, to its use as a natural laboratory (Table 4). Two international
symposia on mangroves have been held since and Segara Anakan has been dis-
cussed in each (Srivastava, et al., 1979; Kostermans and Sastroutomo, 1982).
Several conferences have been held, including one at Cilacap, with all
materials organization the responsibility of nationals.
The present development plans involve another analysis of the estuary
with the following possibilities for fisheries: to conserve part of the
estuary as a nursery area and/or to convert it into aquaculture ponds to
replace fishing (Ecology Team Report, 1983). The authors note that man-
power is limited, the problem large, the time short, and that the joint
cooperation with a socio-economic approach is needed. One drawback to the
analysis is that the final decision is presently to be based on an eco-
nomic analysis derived from marketplace dynamics applied to a subsistence
economy. The stated objective is to assist the Directorate General of
Rivers and Directorate General of Water Resource Development in "formu-
lating an optimal management plan for utilizing the Segara Anakan resources
with maxium benefit to the country considering its values for agricultural
production (especially paddy) on land filled in by silt, for fisheries
including aquaculture, and for preservation as a precious natural resource."
Three alternative plans are envisioned: 1) the 'do nothing' plan, which
assumes the eventual filling of the lagoon; 2) utilizing engineering
measures to encourage the lagoon to fill in under the explicit assumption
that the "eventual loss of the lagoon ecological integrity is inevitable,"
and 3) using engineering measures to perpetuate part of the lagoon which
would be large enough to preserve its "ecological integrity." (Ludwig,
1983a, memo to participants). The lagoon is once again a central part of
the ecological integrity of the swamp; engineering, agriculture, and

396

Table 4. Selected Institutional investigations of Segara Anakan since
1973.

Year Initiated Institution Purpose

1973 Marine Fisheries Institute, shrimp studies
Jakarta (continuing)

1977 Workshop, sponsored by education
National Institute
of Oceanology (LON)

1978 Gadjah Mada University physical, biolog-
ical monitoring

1979 Lemigas baseline study

1980 LON plankton

1980 Asian Development optimal plan-
Bank, Biotrop, ning document
DPMA, LON,
and others

397

tradeoffs are envisioned; and foreign experts are once again central to
moving a development project forward.
This most recent study has again referred to measurements of the
lagoon filling with the assumption that, at present rates, it would be
complete in 5-7 years, which is clearly not the historical example. Some
objectives of this latest study are to identify and measure the resources
in order to "better manage" the resources, to "estimate the minimum size
of the resource necessary to support the offshore marine fisheries and to
delineate the area to be maintained as the residual core lagoon;" and "to
evaluate the potential for brackish water aquaculture, to delineate the
lagoon areas which should be allocated to aquaculture, and to prepare-pre-
liminary designs for the proposed aquaculture." (Ludwig, 1983a). Inter-
nal documents of the project management state that "unless corrective
measures are taken the lagoon environment appears to be doomed." The
study area is confined to the estuary, and does not now appear to give
much attention to the Cilacap-based fisheries. It does seek to incorpo-

rate traditional tambak culture into a local area of low tambak density.
Although the project involves many local institutions, the development
agencies and foreign experts are taking the lead in project planning and
guidance. Another consideration is that the Ministry of Public Works has
mapped a land reclamation scheme north of Segara Anakan. Some Indonesian
observers have postulated that this is designed to meet the legal require-
ments for a reservoir to be built upstream on a tributary entering Segara
Anakan. In Indonesia agricultural land lost to reservoir construction
must be compensated for by land reclamation elsewhere. The conjecture is
that reservoir construction cannot and will not proceed without land re-
clamation within Segara Anakan. Those dependent on Segara Anakan may thus
be hostages to another project's success outside the hydrologic unit.
The initial assumptions about the 1973 proposals were tested through
the invitation for examination by outside experts, national distribution
of the proposals, and subsequent discussions within the national managing
agencies. In Table 5 are two sets of considerations which were crucial
in the decision not to pursue the project. First, the initial project
focused best on the narrow range of issues common to agricultural
projects, such as price supports, irrigation requirements, fertilizers,
yields, and drainage. The project as conceived was less successful in

398

Table 5. Assumptions about the Segara Anakan leading to project declina-
tion.

In Proposal Actual

Rapid closure of lagoon not rapid, will not close

Lagoon fisheries are doomed fisheries may be increased
following expansion of intertidal
vegetation

Estuarine fisheries unrelated related and, therefore, affect
to vegetation in estuary or the Cilacap fisheries
Cilacap fisheries

Settlers want to leave stay when offered entitlements
and emotionally express desire to
remain

Official statistics are not always true, particularly
accurate for subsistence agriculture and
artisanal fisheries

Maintenance costs are stable anything but stable

Fisheries declining not declining, but stable

Health would be improved may have improved anyway (no
malaria reported in 1983)

Yields from small ponds equals higher in small ponds
that of freshwater reservoir

Table 6. Unexpected results following project declination

Conflicts between offshore fishermen with trawlers and inshore
subsistence fishermen. Result: banning of trawling vessels.

Concern about overfishing. Result: Segara Anakan fishermen exclude
fishermen from Cilacap from estuary.

Realization that mangroves on Java are being destroyed faster than
understanding is being developed. Result: use of Segara Anakan as a
study area by several institutions.

Small motor fleet in Cilacap developed. Result: more fishermen with
better earnings and interest.

Volcanic eruption (leaving about 68.4 MCM of ash out of 201 MCM for
all catchments affected by Galunggung). Result: slightly more than
double the amount of annual sedimentation from landuse.

399

addressing issues of a local nature such as social aspects, village life,
or fisheries. Second, compilation of data was, of course, difficult.
This led to erroneous conclusions when extrapolations were made from in-
complete surveys or from outside the study area. The science of coastal
ecology was, and is, incompletely developed. In particular, too little is
known about mangrove ecosystems. This meant that information transferred
from study centers to field was incomplete. In contrast, the engineering
and agricultural studies proposed and now being considered seem to be
more firmly based in practical experience. The common result elsewhere is
that the known and presumed characteristics of coastal ecological systems
appear as regrettable consequences of coastal land reclamation and as
characteristics which can be overcome or accepted as the price of national
development. This last conclusion was rejected only after extensive pro-
posal review and the seemingly serendipitous meeting of various consul-
tants, agency personnel, and changes in the national economy.
The events since 1975 have brought additional changes, most of which
were not anticipated by any of the parties involved in the study (Table 6).
The fisheries proved to be very valuable and grew, as predicted. However,
the fishing community grew with the acceptance of outboard motordriven
fiberglass boats and with greater participation by people from Cilscap.
When the larger trawling boats became more numerous the local fishing
community using mostly small bQats felt threatened. Communal conflicts
resulted and the central government finally banned all offshore trawling
vessels from Indonesian waters as of 1983 (a few exceptions were granted
for the Arafura Sea). To compensate for the expected decline in harvest,
a massive shrimp culture intensification program has been initiated
(Djajadiredja and Daulay, 1983). This will result in the cutting of more

mangroves throughout Java.
A second unpredictable change was the volcanic eruption in 1982.
The Citanduy River and Nusawuluh diversion might, or might not, have been
in place. It is possible that the freshwater lagoon might have been
filled irreversibly, thus ruining the proposed irrigation and drinking
water supply system. In retrospect, another earthquake like the one that
once destroyed the Cilacap jetty might have severely affected the earth
levees enclosing the proposed reclamation zone.

400

A more predictable change since 1974 is the use of the area as a
natural laboratory. The Segara Anakan is now the only major stand of man-
groves on the most populated Indonesian island, and is within one day's
drive of the nation's capital and the major management institutions and
universities. In hindsight, it seems a natural development in a country
with such ambitious plans to manage and develop its coastal zone. One
might ask where else would a natural laboratory come from. As such, it is
the focus of several agencies, students are being trained, and knowledge
about Indonesia is being collected by Indonesians. It may be one of the
most cost-effective benefits of leaving the estuary as a fisheries reserve.
The information and experience gained there applies to other regions in
Indonesia and serves to develop expertise in a country where basic training
in coastal ecology is simply in very short supply.
In brief summary, the Segara Anakan estuary contains the largest con-
tiguous intertidal swamp on the densely populated island of Java. This
estuary supports a sustainable regional fisheries and a more local subsis-
tence culture which resists change. The proposed massive ($26 million)
land reclamation plan to convert it into ricefields was well-prepared and
well-intentioned, but ultimately rejected in what now appears to be a sen-
sitive and substantiated management decision. The issue of what else can
or should be done to manage the estuary is unresolved.

3. BANJARMASIN

3.1 Introduction and Area Description
This second case study concerns the management of an enormous trop-
ical deltaic plain on the sparsely populated island of Kalimantan.
Recently migrated and traditional farmers are exploiting the extensive and
long-standing agricultural developments sponsored by the central government.
First, the area, farming practices, and soils are described. The history
of government sponsored transmigration programs are then outlined in view
of national and local economic and social issues. Lastly, the future of
the present management is discussed in terms of 1) the cumulative impacts
on soil properties, 2) cost-effectiveness, 3) long-term sustainability,
and 4) issues to address development continues or is reevaluated.

401

The river delta Pulau Petak is located between the South Barito and

the South Kapuas rivers, west of the city of Banjarmasin, on the south-
eastern coast of Kalimantan, on the island of Borneo (Figure 11). It is
one of several tidal swamps among an estimated 18.7 million ha of swamps
in Kalimantan. Perhaps 20% is potential agricultural land. Eight rivers,
from east to west, flow into the sea amid 24,000 square kilometers of
coastal swamps: the Barito, Kapuas, Kahayam, Katingan, Metanya, Seuyan,
Kumai and Arut. The total area of swamp land considered suitable for
agriculture in South and Central Kalimantan amounts to 560,000 ha and
1,550,000 ha, respectively. Most of the total is coastal swamps and being
considered for reclamation as rice fields. In 1974, 110,000 ha were rice-
fields (Noorsyamsi and Hidayat, 1974).
The Pulau Petak delta has an average width of 15 km and length of 70
km. It forms part of the broad coastal sedimentary plain extending along
the south coast of Central and South Kalimantan. It was submerged after
the Pleistocene glaciation until being filled over by deposits from the
Pre-tertiary and Tertiary formations in Central Kalimantan (Sch.ophuys,
1936; cited in Noorsyamsi and Hidayat, 1974). River levees form hydro-
logic barriers isolating the inter deltaic riverine swamps where drainage
is slow and interdistributary lakes form. Tides are in evidence up to 100
km inland. Below and above ground salt water intrusion occurs up to 60 km
inland during the dry season.
The topogenous swamp forest located between river levees is often
convex and acidic as are most swamps in Borneo (Anderson, 1964; Wall, 1964).
In general, the peats are up to 2 m deep and often overlie acid sulphate
soils (Driessen and Rochimah, 1976). Figure 12 presents a general
soil/vegetation map of the area before extensive transmigration began.

3.2 Farming Practices
Four vegetation zones are recognized and farmed according to the
timing, length and depth of flooding (Table 7; Figure 13). The hydrologic
regime is a major factor determining harvest success and selection of the
numerous local or international rice varieties. Hydrologic modifications
are thus a major consideration for both farmers and planners.
Drainage of the tidal swamp began with the Dutch system of linking
two major tributaries by means of an artificial canal constructed at right
angle to riverflow. The forest is cleared, usually by burning, and 2- to 3-

402

P A
4- AN ARMASI
Gj

CO-
co

CO-

SOUTH KALIMANTAN
1 Barambai Proposed
2 Jelapat Compl*ted in Repelita
3 Belawang 1 (1969-74)
4 Tabunganen
Completed in Repelita
CENTRAL KALIMANTAN 11 (1974-79)
5 Tamban Luar Swamps
6 Tamban Lupak

Figure 11. The development of South and Central Kalimantan from
1880 to 1978 (adapted from Koesoebiono et al., 1982; and from the
Bogor Soil Research Institute maps on vegetation, agriculture, land
use, and hydrologic structures).

403

-N-

Brackish Peat

Freshwater Peat

Dunes

Marine Sediments

Fluvial Sediments

. .................. ..

X.
X Study Area

Figure 12. The vegetation zones of the delta Pulau Petak, Kalimantan,
(from Lembaga Penelitian Tanah Bogor, 1973).

404

Dry-bed Nursery

M
First Transplant

400-
Second
Transplant
>. 300-
Planting
0
1-n
0
Growth Period 7 200-
Q

Harvest loo-
S 0 N D i F M A M i ]J A FS 0 N L D
Westmonsoon ricefield
(sawah tahun)

Tidal Swamp ricefield
(sawah pasang surut)

Eastmonsoon ricefield
(sawah timur)

rigure 13. The planting schedule of several types of rice fields in South
and. Central Kalimantan (from Noorsymnsi and !,-:dayat, 1974).

Table 7. Vegetation zones' hydrologic regimes and farming practices in
Pelau Petak (adapted from Noorsyamsi and Hidayat, 1974).

Vegetation zone Farming practice

Tidal swamps, where flood late maturing rice varieties;
hazards are negligible sown in October/November
and subject to seasonal
winds and tides.

Monotonous swamp area, only 'sawah surung', or
drainage is poor, water deep-water rice culture
level high and tidal is possible
influence low.

Lake region, where tides rice culture possible only
are felt only during the dry during the dry season
season and the main factor "sawah timur" early maturing
influencing flooding is rice varieties
seasonal monsoons.

Plains or lowland area, where rainfed 'sawah barat' lowland
there are valleys and hills rice culture only
tidal influence is negligible
and flooding entirely due to
seasonal monsoons.

Table 8. Yield of sample plots on peats of different depths (from
Notohadiprawiro, et al., 1981)

Peat thickness Yield
(cm) (kg per ha; local variety)

0-25 4.54
26-50 3.20
51-100 2.55
101-200 2.38
200- 1.37

406

meter wide perpendicular secondary and tertiary canals are dug 75-100 cm

into the mineral soil. Rainwater leaches some toxic materials out of the

soil.
The quality of soil depends on the previously deposited surface soils
and their underlying strata and on previous farming practices.
Notohadiprawiro et al. (1981) described the three basic soil types in
Kalimantan: entisols, inceptisols, and histosols. When the underlying
mineral layer contains pyrites, drainage and subsequent diffusion of
oxygen transforms pyrite into sulphate acids. The suphuric acid moves
vertically by capillary action and poisons plant roots. Some layers may
develop a pH as low as 2. When this occurs the original soil is then
transformed into a nonutilizable 'cat clay' or acid sulphate soil. In
addition, aluminum toxicity may accompany either high salinity or high
acidity because aluminum solubility increases on either side of pH 6.5,
and in the presence of chloride ions which are in seawater. Primarily
peat soils contain few minerals and may also be acidic. In spite of these
problems some tidal swamp ricefields established on peats have produced
very respectable yields for more than 20 years and without fertilizers.
In Barambai the yields first increased then leveled off; in Tamban the
yields first decreased, then leveled off. In general, thick peats result
in lower yields (Table 8).
Successful harvests require attention to proper land preparation and
planting of the seed beds, transplantations from seed bed to primary or
secondary fields, application of fertilizers, pesticides and herbicides,
and labor for weeding and harvest (Figure 14). A type of compost pile, a
1puntalans', of field vegetation is piled up after the cut plants are
allowed to rot for 2 weeks in standing water. The ripe organic mass is
applied to fields prior to planting. Plowing and harrowing are not
usually practiced. Weeding is generally unnecessary for the first 3 months
after planting since the fields are flooded. Holding water in the field
is important and extra levees may be built during a dry season. The
fields are gradually drained after 3 months. Some plant pests and viruses
attack plants, and rat infestation is a local problem which the farmers

respond to with pesticides.

407

ALI',
AWL
Al

Vrl

"g@
It

V'@

Figure 14. Farming in the Pulau Petak delta. Top left: some ricefields
are adjacent to the Barito River, on levees, where drainage is good. Top
right: between major levees are less well drained rice fields with raised
coconut beds and smaller tertiary canals. Bottom left: harvesting is
entirely by hand. Bottom right: production in some areas has continued
for 20 years.

408

3.3 Populating the Land
Said (1973) outlined six development concepts that the South
Kalimantan Planning Board, BAPPE@MA, wanted to introduce simultaneously:
1) the swamps and lowland region were to be further developed for agri-
cultural projects, 2) the offshore zone searched for oil, 3) the coastal
swamps developed as fisheries zones, 4) the inland grasslands (alang-
alang) developed for cattle raising, 5) some lowland areas to remain as
timber production areas, and 6) a forest conservation zone in the moun-
tains maintained to protect the hydrologic cycle. These six geographic
zones were each proposed as single-use development boundaries. These
plans apparently originated from the inspiration of Mr. P. M. Noor when
considering the Tennessee Valley Authority, U.S. (Said, 1973). A hydro-
electric dam and improved harbor facilities were thought necessary to
carry out the plans. With a density of 1.7 million people on 3.7 million
ha of land, South Kalimantan needs people to implement these plans. Trans-
migration is therefore heavily supported by local officials. Based on
their personal experience, BAPPEMDA recommended: better integration of
agency efforts, importation of transmigrants (but not without support),
central planning through BAPPEMDA, and total planning from hospitals to
farming implements, and from roads to manpower training.
The major development efforts occurring until now include, almost ex-
clusively, agricultural development through transmigration programs. The
area has undergone rapid tranformation as various populations have entered
to exploit these new agricultural opportunities. The historical attempts

to encourage migration to Kalimantan are outlined in Table 9. A canal was
built during 1880-1890 between the Barito and Kapuas rivers near
Banjarmasin. Other canals built later resulted in the opening up of vast
areas for agriculture by the local Baniarese. Dutch scientists surveyed
Kalimantan before World War II to determine its potential for agricultural
expansion (Schreuder, 1932; Wijk, Van, 1951). Sponsored transmigration
began in 1937 when the Purwosari project site was opened up by the Dutch.
Transmigrants cleared their own land, built their own houses, and dug the
secondary canals. The government built the main canal and provided food
and materials for the first 18 months. Farming consisted of harvesting
rice for 3-4 years, intercropping with coconuts for a few more years, and

then growing only coconuts as additional new land was cleared. Both price

409

Table 9. Chronology of off-Java coastal swamp planning and development
affecting Kalimantan from 1890-1976 (from Koesoebiono et al., 1.982).

Year Event

1880-1890 The opening of the first in a series of canals in South
Kalimantan for navigation through swamplands, which provided
the Banjarese with access to new agricultural land through
simple drainage systems emptying into the main canal.

1914-1922 Rice shortages during and after WWI focused colonial
government's attention on outer island land potential.
Some developments started by 1920 in Kalimantan.

1935 Further improvement of the original 1880 canals in
Kalimantan and further settlement in the immediate
vicinity.

1936-1940 Extensive feasibility studies and soil surveys for massive
agricultural development and transmigration occurred. The
purpose was to turn the Kalimantan swamplands into a
'rice bowl' in which mechanized agriculture would play a
substantial role. The first transmigration project was ini-
tiated in 1937.

1948-1952 Kalimantan Polder Plan developed under the direction of
Dr. Ir. H. J. Schophuys and agreed to by the Government of
Indonesia. Over a 15-year period 840,000 ha of swampland
would be reclaimed with proper drainage and pumping systems.
A pilot canal development was initiated in 1950 on 4
areas totaling 40,000 ha which was to be conducted through
regional Polder Corporations directed by the government.

1953 The first 5-year plan was to begin in Polder development.
By 1970 only 2 pilot projects totaling 8,700 ha were near
completion.

1957 The Ministry of Public Works announced a tidal irrigation
project to convert 1.5 million ha of Kalimantan and Sumatra
coastal swamplands to ricefields over a 5-year period.
Minister P. M. Noor had formerly been directly associated
with the Polder plan but shifted emphasis from pumping
systems to lower cost open systems in which the Ministry of
Works would plan primary and secondary canals in areas
under the influence of tidal back-up. A 700-km canal was
proposed for Kalimantan.

1960-1963 Kalimantan development project as supported by government
decrees including the 1963 Presidental decree declaring it
a vital state project. Actual implementation was limited
to minor developments in Kalimantan and, in 1963, the pro-
ject area was reduced.

410

Table 9, continued

1964-1965 A work committee for tidal and polder systems was esta-
blished by the Minister of Public Works which resulted in
the publication of 'Proyek Kanalisai'. Among-other pro-
jects proposed was a canal running most of the length of
Sumatra.

1967-1968 The Ministry of Public Works announced a new tidal irriga-
tion project to open up 5,250,000 ha of land over 15 years.
There was considerable exploratory work on possible pro-
jects by foreign consultants working for private companies
and FAO.

1969-1974 The Public Works tidal irrigation project was reduced to
500,000 ha over a 5-year period (REPELITA I). The actual
area opened was 13,198 ha for 7,180 transmigrant families.
Three sites were developed in Sumatra and three in
Kalimantan. Indonesian universities became involved in
planning and design in 1969.

1974 By presidental instruction, a plan developed by the
Ministry of Public Works to open 1,000,000 ha of coastal
swampland between 1974-1979 (REPELITA II) was adopted.
Survey activities, training and massive equipment purchases
were quickly initiated.

1975 Canal excavation started next to REPELITA I pilot projects.

1976 The land opening projection was revised downward to 250,000
ha by 1979.

1975-1979 The World Bank request for design and survey assistance
resulted in US$3.2 million loan for studies on 300,000 ha
at two sites in Sumatra; it was complemented by a $3 million
hydrological study and training from the Netherlands.

411

stability and income were achieved and with less labor than from rice out-

line alone.

After World War II hundreds of thousands of hectares were planned to
be opened up under very ambitious plans. Spontaneous migrants, however,
were moving in faster than the sponsored transmigrants. During REPELITA I
(1969-1974) only 18,000 ha were opened up of 500,000 ha planned for trans-

migration.
3.4 Spontaneous And Government Sponsored Migrants
Migrants are now a mixture of spontaneous migrants (mainly Banjarese
but also some Buginese and even Dayaks) and government sponsored migrants
(mostly from Java, Madura and Bali). Government sponsored migrants move to
newly opened areas because their living conditions at home are poor. The
government's offer of land, even if only one or two hectares, is attrac-
tive to what are mostly landless laborers. But settlement is generally
possible only in areas where the locals have not settled, and therefore
of low quality, or where the government sponsored irrigation projects open
up new land. The relative success of the spontaneous and government
sponsored transmigrants has been studied at Barambai by Soeratman, et al.
(1977).
Barambai is the government sponsored transmigration center in the
north of Pulau Petak. A survey of farmers by the faculty of Gadjah Mada
University reveals numerous strengths and weaknesses in the transmigration
program (Suratman and Guinness, 1976, 1977). Transportation, housing,
farming implements, training and supplies are supposed to be provided for
the first 18 months of settlement. However,
Settlements are severely handicapped by short-
age of staff, particularly agricultural officers,
health workers, teachers and social workers,
and those officers who are resident on the projects
often have neither the time nor the skills to
guide transmigrants adequately. The officer's own
position is weakened by poor communications between
the project, the provincial government and the cen-
tral government. (Suratman and Guinness, 1977,
p. 92).
Work outside the farming area is often necessary because a land clear-
ing is difficult and slow and government rations are often inadequate.
Living there is not easy. Farmers interviewed by this author near
Barambai said their wives cried for all of the first three years of settle-

412

ment. A turning point occurs when rations stop and the farmer must become
entirely self-reliant. Commodity prices may tumble drastically (by as
much as one-third) when the harvest is quickly sold to pay the heavy pre-
harvest debts farmers traditionally accumulate against the harvest, in-
cluding at Barambai. Government efforts to stabilize prices have, to
date, been ineffective.
The transmigrants form social groups which are most often isolated
from the indigenous populations. Balinese, who are Hindu, are encouraged
to cluster so as to avoid confrontation with the local Moslem population
over pig raising. The Balinese appear to be relatively successful in
adapting to the new land. At Barambai, Balinese settlers excel in culti-
vating rice under difficult circumstances, in initiating wild pig hunts,
in marketing, and in exhibiting good communal harmony. They also meet
monthly to discuss social or agricultural issues. Work and celebrations
are considered obligatory.
Relations between the numerous new arrivals and the few indigenous
families are not always satisfactory. However, at Barambai compensation
is made to the indigenous Banjarese when traditional lands are confiscated
for more intense use. Banjarese are also encouraged by government offi-
cials to open up land elsewhere and to use the newly opened facilities.
Whereas the government may hope that the locals will learn new farming
techniques, it is often the successful transmigrants who learn from the
locals about how to grow cash crops or use the local varieties. Intermar-
riage and regular cooperation are, however, rare between locals and trans-

migrants.
The Gadjah Mada University Test Farm at Barambai and Bogor Agri-
cultural University have proven quite effective in pioneering irrigation
systems and transferring techniques to farmers directly through experi-
ence. Introduction of two crops of rice and diverse cash crops has
occurred. Farmers are also experimenting on their own with fish ponds,

fruit trees and new variaties of rice.

The most successful settlers are those spontaneous migrants who have
had to settle among the local population and negotiate for land and learn
the local farming techniques. Compared to the government sponsored mi-
grants, they have more capital, more hope, and better relations with the
locals. Many successful local operators are expanding their operations.

413

In Kalimantan an estimated 165,000 ha of land have been opened up by them
at no experrsT-- to-the government (Collier, 1979). By comparison, only
13,198 ha opened up under the government program from 1969 to 1.974.

3.5 Future Concerns

Hanson and Koesoebiono (1977) point out how "The settlement of
Indonesian swamps is one of the most significant environmental. transfor-
mations likely to take place in Indonesia. It is one of the world's major
experiments in marginal land utilization and a classic case for creating
resource and environmental strategies " (p. 7). Although different ap-
proaches are being tried, major questions arise about the future condition
and management of the areas which must be answered if long-term stability
is to be achieved. These questions involve soil development, cumulative
impacts on fisheries, health, hydrology, crops, and stability to withstand
perturbations from drought, disease, pests, and social unrest (Figure 15).

3.5.1 Soil Problems
Soepraptohardjo and Driessen (1976) list the following major problems
affecting agricultural reclamation of Indonesia's peats, including the

Pulau Petak delta:

1) High subsidence after drainage and vegetation removal.
2) Locally rapid horizontal hydraulic conductivity
or extremely slow vertical conductivity.
3) High heat capacity and low thermal conductivity (as an
insulator) which results in great temperature variations at

the surface.
4) Locally low level of organic material decomposition and/or
high wood percentage.
5) Low weight-bearing capacity of the soils; many crops,
particularly tree crops such as papaya, tend to topple

over.
6) Rapid oxidation of organic material after drainage.
7) Irreversible shrinkage which causes adverse water retention

characteristics and increased sensitivity to erosion.
8) Low nutrient content.
9) Often overlying marine sulphate bearing soils.
10) Isolation from transportation networks.

A14 fe

Perhaps the most important impact for the farmer is the possibility
of declining yields and income, and resulting unrest. Pest and weed in-
festations are other major problems. Additionally, there are periodic
droughts and difficulties with drainage. Local inhabitants leave the land
fallow at regular intervals or shift to other crops. There is too little
long-term data to support the qualitative or quantitative appraisals of
yields among the spontaneous and sponsored immigrants. In general, how-
ever, the spontaneous migrants have higher yields and the yields of the
sponsored migrants decline after a few years (Collier, 1979; Collier et
al.; in press; Driessen et al., 1976). This is partially the result of
spontaneous migrants usually settling the preferred levee land which is
naturally drained, and has better soils. The sites between levees are
more likely to be the site of government projects. Even if that soil
is relatively good, its properties change with tillage. There are numer-
ous examples from the tropics documenting soil fertility losses following
cultivation (Sanchez, 1976; Flaig et al., 1978; Ewel and Conde, 1980).
Weed infestation usually accompanies the decline in soil fertility, thus
hastening abandonment.
Tillage, drainage, and fire reduce both peat and mineral-bound

organic matter. The loss of organic matter is important because organic

matter:

1) Supplies most of the cation exchange capacity of the

soils.
2) Increases soil aggregation and improves its physical

properties.
3) Complexes with micronutrients.
4) Soil pH values increase after burning because of the
incorporation of basic cations and gradually decrease

with cultivation.

The individual farmer may thus expect to face more, not fewer,
problems with soil fertility if he survives the first 5 to 10 years.
Individual and group farming skills, or management, must eventually make
up for the loss in natural productivity over long periods of time.

3.5.2 Cumulative Effects

The cumulative impacts of large-scale reclamation have hardly been
examined. The major areas of concern are 1) the cumulative impacts on

415

fisheries, 2) population expansion within existing family units when no
nearby uncultivated land is available, 3) water quality, and, 4) the geo-
logic/hydrologic modifications of the deltaic soils. With increasing pop-
ulation, Rotan and Nipa supplies (used for housing, nets and furniture)
and fishing may be declining in Sumatra and the traditional management
unit, the Marga, is losing control of resource management (Hanson
and Koesoebiono, 1979). Coastal wetlands and estuaries are, by their very
nature, intimately involved in the ecology of the shallow coastal zone
where the most lucrative fishery enterprises are usually located (Turner et
al. 1979a, b). The loss of 4-ntertidal land, either by reclamation or by
hydrologic isolation from the main channels, will ultimately reduce the
potential for increased fishery enterprises. Fishing at the Pulau Petak
villages is now as close as the nearest canal. But the fish market is
stocked with those fish which are customarily considered estuarine and
wetland dependent (Figure 15). At some point the negative impacts of land
reclamation on fish stocks will result in less fish than can satisfy a

growing local demand. It seems no small coincidence that areas of major
fishing grounds in Indonesia are also nearby the areas of coastal swamps
and marshes (e.g., Doty and Soegiarto, 1970).
Relationships among the various migrants are likely to deteriorate
when new farming areas are no longer available. The present farm family
growth rate means the farms must be divided among family members until too
little is left. Even now there are problems as the area is being popu-

lated.

Water quality problems will inevitably develop as more people use
more pesticides on more fields. Intestinal diseases are the number one
cause of mortality, because the drinking water supply is also the medium
of waste disposal, irrigation, washing and transportation.
A potentially very serious long-term impact is the continued sub-
sidence of the peat combined with the sinking of land relative to sea
level. In a geologically similar delta, the Mississippi River delta,
Louisiana, sea level rise (12 cm per century) is minor compared to natural
subsidence and that caused by man-made hydrologic modifications. The
Mississippi River deltaic soils are not accumulating sediments and organic
materials at a rate equal to the compaction of the underlying sediments
(Craig et al., 1979; Scaife et al., 1983; Turner and Neill, in press). A

416

Figure 15. Life around Baniarmasin is affected by cumulative impacts.
Top left: the canals serve as bathing sites, for washing and for
waste disposal. Top right: the fish market in Banjarmasin has a
variety of fish and shrimp, which are dependent on natural intertidal
vegetation. Bottom left: transportation is mostly by waterway. This
prahu is loaded with planks from timber harvested upstream. Bottom
right: a 'country store'. Photographs by the author.
rx,

417

primary reason for the massive erosion rates (now approaching 1% annually)
is the man-made modifications in the coastal swamps and marshes. It took 40
years for the impacts to become visible,and state officials are now
desperately trying to grasp both the magnitude of the problem and what to
do. In the same way, what if the land in Kalimantan which is presently
being drained or irrigated is 50 cm lower in 50 years? We simply don't
know the actual subsidence rates for this type of experiment yet. But at
the present rate of development most of the land will be occupied in 50
years. Will it not be even more marginal as farmland if subsidence is
significant and won't the drainage difficulties during the occasional
drought or very wet year then push farmers into ruin? This is a problem
that is slow to develop and devastatingly disruptive when i.t occurs. With
the present emphasis on agricultural production, to the exclusion of the
wider issues underlying Said's (1973) development plan, it is unlikely
that these questions will be recognized or addressed. What Vayda (1979)
said about some other development projects may soon apply here: "these
examples illustrate the dangers of developing programs for particular
groups without taking into account the larger systems within which those
groups will have to operate."
In brief summary, the Pulau Petak deltaic swamp of South Kalimantan
is undergoing a major transformation from low-density traditional farming
into a government sponsored agricultural community. Significant obstacles
to establishing a sustained agricultural system naturally arise in ambi-
tious projects like this. However, the short-term success of a signifi-
cant percentage of settlements is an established fact despite social
tensions, difficult colonizing conditions, the presence of soils sensitive
to hydrologic manipulations, economic uncertanties and labor and health
issues. The success of sustained and further single-issue development is
less clear because of 1) the cumulative impacts of settlement on the total
ecosystem and on health and economics, and 2) the long-term changes in
soil fertility and land subsidence. Presently needed are long-term com-
parative studies of the present results and greater emphasis on the rela-
tive merits of alternative and/or complimentary land use management.

418

4. LESSONS LEARNED

The term 'coastal zone management' implies a perspective larger than
individuals and villages, though not exclusive of these. It involves a
regional perspective, implicit in the term 'coastal zone' and time ele-
ments long enough to influence or otherwise manage the region. Though
Imanagement' involves individuals, it has a geographic aspect since
regional geologic, biologic and hydrologic history usually influence, if
not determine, the possibilities for management and for development. The
discussion below of the 'lessons learned' therefore emphasizes the broader
aspects of these two case history studies. For each lesson a simple con-
cluding statement is made and then followed by examples and discussion.
4.1. Local Participation
Local participation in management is absolutely essential. The vill-
agers live where decisions are felt, they must share in the disap-
pointments, and they share first in whatever management occurs. If
decisions do not make sense to villagers then management coordination

is eventually impossible and chances for successful implementation
will be slight.
Management must integrate commonly accepted values to succeed. In
Indonesian society the term 'mushawarah' is the idea of communal 'non-
authority'. Mushawarah contrasts with the individual or state development
of centralized planning, implementation, and enforcement. For example, it
is common to have team reports rather than single author reports, and for
individuals to feel uncomfortable expressing opinions forcefully at staff
meetings. A parallel example is the idea that consensus, or 'mufakat',
not a simple majority, determines successful completion in decision
making. The mutual bearing of burdens, or 'gotong rojong', is part of
this willingness to both participate and share in the outcome of whatever
happens. There is also an acceptance of personal difficulties as some-

thing that can be improved upon; e.g.,a criminal might be considered tole-
rantly (and guardedly, of course) as "not yet Javanese" (Geertz, 1971,
1973). Directly opposing or ignoring such strongly accepted attitudes
invites an equally significant rejection of outside management.
Attempted regulations should pay attention to local laws. 'Adat' law
is the assemblage of customary rules that usually govern village life in a
subsistence economy. They may be considered rules which encourage the

419

village's survival with optimal comfort in the natural environment.
Violators of national law in conservation zones often defend themselves by
reference to adat rights. Adat law may be invoked for personal gain, but
historical implementation meant that some understanding of the environment
was felt by the local community (Rijksen, 1982). Interviews with fisher-
men in Segara Anakan revealed that they understood the idea that shrimp
and fish in Segara Anakan require mangrove detritus to survive. The
'nursery ground' concept was not as clearly expressed. Nevertheless, they
had the understanding necessary to plan and follow management plans which
attempted sustained use of the mangroves for fisheries. The villagers
also were enforcing a sense of territoriality by keeping Cilacap fishermen
out of the estuary. The villagers cannot, however, prevent the central
government from completing large scale hydrologic modifications nor under-
stand what agencies are planning until it is probably too late (Velasco,
1979).

In South Kalimantan, some shifting agriculturalists plant trees in
planned transmigration areas with the sole purpose of retaining rights to
their fallow fields. Government authorities do not always recognize title
to lands without permanent crops and the extra work of planting trees
establishes claim to land which is otherwise vacant (Dove, 1983). Manage-
ment imposed from outside will be circumvented in similar ways.
4.2. Natural Resource Agency Support
National development agencies must have sufficient resources to
develop existing expertise, and to find new, or better, technologies
and management perspectives that, in turn, make possible sustainable
development.
The Directorate General of Fisheries receives much less support, as
evidenced in the salary scales of field workers, than do, for example,
workers with similar training at the Directorate of Forestry or Agri-
culture. BAPPENAS channels money for research on mangroves into the
Directorate General of Forestry, not the Directorate General of Fisheries
(Burbridge, 1982), despite a fisheries industry valued at $192 million
(U.S.) in 1978 which depends on mangroves (e.g., McNae, 1974; Martosubroto
and Naamin, 1977; Turner, 1977). At Banjarmasin there is one small
fisheries office. In contrast, there are two major field stations for
agriculture, and much support for the forestry officials. One wonders

420

what improvement in fisheries understanding and harvest would occur with a
larger effort for the fishing enterprises. If there had not already been
an existing fishing effort and port in the Cilacap region, it is obvious
that the reclamation project in Segara Anakan would now be complete.
Agricultural reclamation, which has not to date gained ground there, gave
way to an established industry. In Banjarmasin, the reverse has occurred.
With few people already there, what might be a major fishing zone, as
other deltas are, has become a major agricultural zone for thousands of
newly arrived people.
4.3 Information Gaps
Too little is known about mangroves and fisheries and sustained agri-
cultural developments in swamps to justify either extreme praise or

condemnation.

This lesson is perhaps best illustrated by what has happened to a
swampland agricultural systems in the past few thousand years and also by
what we now know of mangrove ecosystems now. Denevan (1970) concluded

from a survey and research on numerous Central American wetland agricul-

tural systems of now collapsed societies that population pressures pre-
ceded over population on well-drained land, which led to use of marginal
lands that then failed either to sustain fertility or to offer enough
time for the population growth to stabilize. These are also the present

symptoms of land use on Java.

The second illustration concerns what we do not know about coastal

swaumps. Two common management issues are the following (modified from
several sources, including Burbridge, 1982; Burbridge and Koesoebiono, 1981,
1982; Lugo and Snedaker, 1974; Odum, 1970; Snedaker, 1982; Soemarwoto, 1974;

and Velasco, 1979.
1) Should comprehensive and total swamp development be favored over
partial and slow development with conservation? Response: In
general, no. A wise inspection of unknown quantities does not
result in the loss of parts before the whole system is under-
stood. Enough mistakes and accomplishments have been made to
justify a cautious approach if sustained development is the goal

of management.

421

2) What is the minimum area of mangroves necessary for ecosystem
functions? Is the question even justified? What is the compar-
ative advantage of different uses of mangrove, e.g., ponds vs.
natural? Response: In general the whole mangrove and saline

and brackish water intertidal community should be conserved

intact.

The arguments over the size of the protected zone around mangroves
now involves two main agencies, the Department General of Fisheries and
Department General of Forestry. The fisheries department considers
fisheries'yields of paramount interest and is seeking to have forestry
operations reduced or eliminated for mangroves. There is logic to this
conclusion since the value of mangrove lumber products is no more than 36
million dollars (U.S.) in 1978 while the mangrove-dependent fisheries catch
was worth 194 million dollars (Burbridge and Koesoebiono, 1982). Addi-
tionally, shrimp which depend on the mangroves have an export trading
leverage 22 times greater than imported rice, when expressed as protein
equivalents (Turner and May, 1979). In other words each kg of shrimp
exported pays for an equivalent importation of 22 kg protein as rice.
Alternative estimates of the value of mangrove as tambak culture show
similar results. In general,for each ha of mangrove converted to tambak,
a net fisheries loss of 467 kg occurs (Turner, 1977). Additional calcula-
tions would be worthwhile on the basis of energy, labor, and social
stability.
The current interest in the vegetated buffer zone, the 'greenbelt',
is important because it highlights issues of national concern. However,
the discussions could be usefully broadened to include the total services
of mangroves (e.g.,erosion control, water quality, storm buffers). Evalu-
ations based only on fisheries or only on forest values neglect the mul-
tiple values mangroves have in water quality, erosion control, subsistence
firewood gathering, medicinal products, native food, and building mate-
rials. Preservation of greenbelts does not isolate functions. Instead,
it gives a false hope of sustained development. If there is one thing
learned in the last 10 years of environmental research it is that coastal
ecosystems are strongly coupled within a hydrologic unit. Arbitrarily
slicing off one part of the ecosystem for management purposes will not
preserve functions in isolation of changes occurring in the connected com-

422

ponents. Shrimp are not found only near the edge of part of the man-
groves. Changing water flow patterns or forest vegetation outside the
greenbelt will affect the greenbelt itself. The implications are that
mangrove zones should be managed as entities for the total values of their
services, not as pieces.
4.4. Ecological Planning
Environmental planning should begin when development projects are
first conceived, and continue during project analysis and through
development. Nations with limited capital are the ones that can
least afford to misuse or degrade their natural resource capital.
It is possible to make mistakes planning and developing agricultural
projects. Developing tidal swamplands is very susceptible to mistakes,
particularly hydrologic errors. Social cohesion may collapse before
corrections can be made, leaving abandoned projects behind. This has
already happened in some areas near Banjarmasin. At times this planning
practice can be rather simply accomplished. Rather than considering the
local population as a barrier to development, it can be seen as a source of
local consultants on the best practices for use of marginal land.
The value of coastal ecosystems cannot be entirely expressed in
economic terms, not because they provide no services, but because the dis-
cipline of economics generally ignores the free services they provide. As

their services become scarce their value increases. These externalities
are discussed in greater detail by Burbridge (1982) and Snedaker (1982).
How to evaluate the externalities is the central issue. In Segara Anakan
the smaller fishermen perceived the threat to mangroves as affecting their
subsistence way of life, which an economic analysis could not evaluate.
The conflicts between local fishing interests became a political issue
involving a Presidential Decree. A simple economic analysis is likely to
be insufficient for determining the probability of sustainability.

4.5. Mid-course Corrections

Changes from the expected results will arise and should be met flexi-
bly. Monitoring the project is necessary to minimize the magnitude
of the impacts and to learn from them to avoid problems later.
Two good examples of this attitude were evident in these Indonesian
case studies. First, BAPPENAS was flexible when dealing with the proposed
agricultural developments in the Segara Anakan. This sparked further

423

general interest in coastal management issues. The area is now a natural
laboratory for study of how to manage estuaries. It thus becomes very
useful to set aside natural areas in the immediate vicinity of projects in
order to monitor what is happening and to preserve options for future
development.
Second, massive increases in the use of pesticides in order to
control brown hoppers (a swampland rice pest) resulted in reductions in
the traditional ricefield harvest of fish. However, breaks in planting
schedule followed by synchronous planting have helped to reduce the size
and severity of the outbreaks.
Social institutions should be monitored too. The traditional village
welfare system based on sharing of harvest and labor is disappearing to-
gether with the communal village rice stores (Conway and McCauley, 1983).
It remains to be seen if the central government can act as efficiently in
this regard as the village-based institutions.
4.6. Complete Project Analysis
"Careful attention must be paid to the contribution of the natural
ecosystems in sustaining long-term development in tropical countries.
Projects that appear economically sound in the short term may actu-
ally be economically burdensome over time because of initially un-
recognized environmental costs. Holistic planning is one way of
identifying wise alternatives for economic growth and development."
(National Research Council (U.S.) Committee on Selected Biological
Problems in the Humid Tropics, 1982).
The development of tidal swamps for agriculture implies that all
other uses have a lower priority. This is not necessarily always the
case. However, tradeoffs cannot be effectively evaluated without a broad
spectrum of information. Burbridge et al. (1981) argued that comparative
studies which include the external, free services of natural tidal swamps
indicate that some swamps should not be reclaimed. In some cases, e.g-,
Jakarta Bay, tambak construction in mangrove zones leads to the eventual
destruction of those ponds, resulting in the loss of both ponds and man-
groves (Bird, 1980; Bird and Ongkosongo, 1980).
Social interactions should be included as part of the analysis. It
may be absolutely essential to do so. There is much good work in
this area (see examples in the bibiliographies of Guinness, 1977; Meyer

424

and MacAndrews, 1978; Watson, 1983) and it should continue to receive
support. Suratman and Guinness (1977), point to several factors which
have determined the success or failure of transmigration schemes in

Indonesia:

Agricultural and soil surveys enquiries into land rights
and the culture of the indigenous people are required before
final selection is made. Although some surveys have been
thorough, particularly those conducted by overseas financing
bodies or by local university teams in conjunction with the
Transmigration Department, there has been a tendency in most
pre-settlement surveys to make only a cursory inspection over
a period of one or two months without attempting to provide a
firm base on which later agricultural development and inter-
ethnic relations can be established. As a result, after
several years of settlement, crops fail, soil fertility
declines and land disputes with local villagers continue to
disrupt farming activities. (Suratman and Guinness, 1977;
P. 90).
The whole issue of promoting artisanal fisheries faces similar
problems (e.g., Sidarto and Atmoswasono, 1977; Collier et al., 1977) as
does mangrove management specifically. See Christensen (1982) for a wide-
ranging presentation of current mangrove uses in Southeast Asia.
4.7. Interagency Cooperation
The more informal and formal cooperation between personal, regional,
national and international agencies, the better the transfer of in-
formation, training, education, experienc-e, and ideas.
Agencies have difficulty transcending their single-minded mission
orientation to work on multiple resource issues because they are not ex-

pected to do so. Attention to fisheries, mineral recovery, or forestry
alone will not provide optimal coastal resource use. In settlements the
strategy is to turn over control to the local authorities within 12-18
months leaving inexperienced and newly arrived settlers to manage fairly
complex issues together while addressing their definite problems encount-

ered in just surviving during the first few years. Little coordination is
possible in such an environment.
Hanson and Koesoebiono (1977) suggested that in Indonesia the Depart-
ment of Agriculture should be the one agency to coordinate long-term

planning of living resources. They proposed regional resource management
centers, not single-purpose research stations and provincial extension
offices which cannot offer specific advice for a broad range of

425

coastal problems. The involvement of so many foreign consultants and
national university groups is an indication of agency needs in this area.
The region planning bureau, BAPPENAS, might also review and track existing
development plans and activities, with the intention of reviewing and

modifying them as need for new information is discovered.

Finally, there is a sincere interest in Indonesian agencies and those
of other countries to promote development programs with long-term stabil-
ity. As evidence of their intent regional planning and comprehensive
project planning are often already in place. The goals are to establish a
sustained agricultural base, a healthy human environment, and reasonable
and fair resource use. The list of agencies involved with swampland
development is therefore long and complexly related (Figure 16). Ulti-
mately, however, population growth must be stabilized. If population
growth does not stop soon coastal management will be increasingly more
difficult and eventually impossible. Meanwhile, there is still time to
consider the best of the available options and to plan and to work for the
future with some hope of contributing to progress. The historical example
is that the Indonesian culture is willing to work with nonaggressive and
constructive attempts to sustain a humane human society (Figure 17).

5. GUIDELINES

The following guidelines are based on the review of the two case
studies, literature review, and the author's inference based on personal
experience. Some specificity was sacrificed to broaden applicability over
a wide geographic area. Principles of coastal ecosystem management are
first stated then followed by discussion and then by example. There is

naturally some overlap among guidelines. Broadly stated their summary
purpose is to establish 1) a mechanism to prepare proper development by
allowing for analysis of choices, implementation, and change on an indi-
vidual project basis, and 2) a monitoring program which preserves a sense
of agency openness both in addressing new issues on a broad level and in
testing hypotheses about long-term sustainable development and project

impacts.
1) Mangrove ecosystems should be designated for multiple use for
fisheries reserve, erosion control, and subsistence village use rather
than single-purpose agricultural zones. Converting mangrove ecosystems to

426

Division Bar-

E ... omy Ag,i,,It,,e and Irrigation
",ill M11,1111@cTrl-ig
C.I-- and P.. I niel A'

Social I'llp"Ity, People's
Ho.si, ., Health

Interdep-siant,l Coordinating Comic- Fiscal &
Monetary
Na Ii n,l Co=itt,e on the Envir-nt
Net ional Comittee on Re-11, Inventory Control of D ... lopoat projects
St,dy Group on P.@Ition I.p I..cnl- I,ple,ectstion Minister .1 Interior
(Oil and Gas Re search In,tit,te) .1i.n
Indonesian Man ad B i"Pher, C-itte,
Na,,,al Re .. r,,s Manag ... at D"
and Evicn...c Gen ecal
D.C. Agr:,i, Govern nt D.G.
Lend .
Reg I-l Regional I and IT and Village
and Area Physical and Spatial Lay- Land Rights Regional Dave op at
Re,i .. IIr .... and Social c.no.y
Regi nal D.Vcop,ent Assistance
Research
A in-
State Minister for Research i,tration

Depart-t1l R .. arch I-tit,te,
and R,ac;@rh C.. d 'at ng T-t-rs: PROJECT/BUDGET APPROVAL AND
c . PU -Wa 1 g 1) RAL PLANNING ASSESSMENTS
-9 ter Eng nocrin VE
Agcicnl t-ra Soil R ... arch By NATIONAL FLASH ING BOARD
Central Agri-Itar.1 Re ... rch (RAPPENAS)
Inland Fisheries R ...... h
Governor
BAKOSURTANAL (Nati ... 1 Mapping Unit)

National I,stlt- of Science (LIPI) Dines B P E
Instit,t,,: Ministry Directorate- Directorates Prov , Gov. P ... P I nin,
c.B.N' t,n" Oc Inllljc.I IntitVte Gen ,I Offices III as
National Biologics 1 'ostit nte
PUTL Water Project for Opening
U7ivelti- Re ... rc.a Tid.1 Ri-fi.1d. Pro e" Kbpltn
e.g. B"r Agri,,Itrl U"i .. ally High..ya li'eld Ad,iis tra if..
Ea.d.ng Inati r te of T,,chn.1 Ey Agric,lt- Ford Crops P-d-tion Staff
Sri,ijay, P ... i,cial University FisherLee
A inal
H..bandry
Forestry Forest Forest Prod, tic,
Pcod.cti.n
Reforestation Rcgre..ing & AREA DEVELOPMENT POLICY
Reg coal Planning Rehabilitation AND PROGRAM IMPLEMENTATION
Forest N t,re Conservation
Ministry of Pblir Work, Direct ... to Protect i.n IForest Protection
of C Ity and Re, i-IP Jan. fog N t.ro National Park, I
Conservation Recre etion 'Or..,.
Manin-er Iransig- "r"y
Trans,ig-tion rati- Land Opening
& Cooperatives C_trcr Ion
COORDINATING, CONSULTATIVE, Development
AND RESEARCH INPUTS C-nir,ti- Sea Com- Harbor. &
nn icati,ns E,,Ioittl,,
Navigation
G
r
lyrf -T

A P DA
a
r

Ker-stan

PROJECT PLANN ING AND CENTRAL,
COORDINAT ION OF IMPLEMENTATION
BY MINISTRY (DEPARTMENT)

Figure 16. The agencies involved in swampland development and management in Indonesia
(adapted from Hanson and Koesoebiono, 1979).

Figure 17. A student of traditional Javanese dance practicing on the
grounds of the Sultan's Palace in Yogyakarta. He is learning to put
finger, wrist, elbow, shoulder and torso in balanced and precise coordi-
nation under the guidance of a dance master (not shown). As the student
moves about the courtyard the teacher follows with gentle reminders,
humor, and straight-forward examples. The student will eventually have
the natural grace and dignity which Indonesians hold in high regard as
representative of an enlightened and courtly civilization.

428

agricultural lands or single-purpose lumber concessions will usually

result in a net loss of export dollar earnings, protein production, and
perhaps employment. The spontaneous use of mangroves for subsistence
(firewood, medicinal products, building supplies, food, and small-scale
farming) cannot, in all probability, be regulated properly by any group
other than villagers themselves. That type of management therefore
requires local education to improve conditions. At the other extreme,
large-scale development projects are manageable at the regional and state
level. Analysis can and should proceed before irreversible momentum
gathers for exploitation. For that analysis managers should consider the
following points about mangroves: (1) Many developed and underdeveloped
fisheries are entirely dependent on mangrove ecosystems. This dependence
seems to be especially pertinent for penaeid shrimp stocks captured far
from the mangroves. (2) Mangroves protect shorelines against waves,
tides, and storms. Agriculture ponds and lumber harvest should therefore
not occur within 500 m, or farther, of the coastline in order to preserve
them. (3) Mangroves provide a vast array of products and services to the
local villages. (4) Mangroves are generally self-sustaining and require
little, if any,economic management to be sustained.
2) Coastal management of estuarine zones should be organized at
hydrologic, or watershed,level. Ecosystems are natural organizations of
parts joined together in active interactions. Developing or managing one
ecosystem part will therefore affect other parts simultaneously. For
example, upstream land use practices affect estuarine water quality, sedi-
ment loading, and migration of some freshwater prawn stocks (e.g.,the
malaysian prawn, Macrobrachium sp.). Traditional management customs often
reflect this level of management and might be utilized usefully in devel-
opment implementation. Economic and transportation linkages as well as
traditional village political economics also reflect such geographic
boundaries. The tendency of land use in a coastal watershed to follow
natural hydrology is illustrated by three examples. First. inland
riverine zones may have higher tidal fluctuations than at the river mouth
because of river channel geomorphology. Specific varieties of crops are
therefore planted late in the wet season in back swamp areas but early in
the season at less frequently inundated higher elevations. Second,

unusually wet or dry years affect marginally successful agriculture along

429

well-defined hydrologic boundaries. Third, important natural forest com-
modities, such as some specialized building materials, are naturally dense
or planted only in specific hydrologically defined swamp forest zones.
Therefore, organize engineering measures, policy planning, and especially
regulation around hydrologic units.
3) Use villages to build consensus for management. Villagers are
too often ignored in planning and development. Their sustained partici-
pation is a sign of good planning; their nonparticipation may indicate
either serendipitous events or poor vision of what development means.
Exploiting one part of village management (structure) for a specific
development goal may mean the elimination of a village's adaptation to a
general and larger issue of cultural identity and value, seasonal labor
supply, or obtaining building supplies (functions). Therefore, include in
management the equivalent of fisheries and agricultural extension
agents, rural sociologists, natural history biologists, as well as
broadly trained scientists, academics, and administrators. These people
should have individual contact with the villages. Also, include village
elected representatives in the project planning, construction, and manage-
ment. Build up the village's ability to manage natural resources as a
whole rather than dismember it and then replace it with single-purpose

management.
4) Only selected areas should be developed. Not all agricultural
zones or fisheries stocks are equal. A peculiar anomaly in one location
may result in over-extended exploitation elsewhere. Ambitious single-
minded development of all of South Kalimantan, for example, would unneces-
sarily ruin vast areas for light agriculture or destroy potential develop-
ment of, for example, local fisheries. It's necessary to preserve watersheds

for healthy water supplies, diversify agricultural cropping and land uses,
and set aside nondeveloped areas for future development as buffers for
development-induced expansion and to learn from mistakes.
5) Incorporate traditional agriculture, husbandry, or fishing
practices where possible. Experienced farmers and fishermen are rich
sources of technical information necessary for planning, development, re-
evaluation, and alteration. If rice is not grown, fishing vessels are
few, or coconut trees are sparsely planted then find out why before ex-
ploring possibilities for expansion. Introduce changes (new varieties,

430

techniques, or equipment) directly to the villagers, as happens in
Barambai, to observe their problems and successes immediately. If fisher-
men do not fish on specific days, then perhaps their usually harvested
species are spawning. Therefore, gather information on success and change
in order to monitor unexpected adaptations and efficiently discover oppor-

tunities.
6) Strong actions should be based on good information. Irreversible
damage may occur without proper pre-planning inventory and assessment.
Large-scale burning of large tracts of land in clearing will waste lumber
but also reduce peat thickness, perhaps enough to affect crop productiv-
ity. Harvesting by timber mechanically is a significant capital invest-
ment and may help offset development costs, but it may also compact the
soil enough to reduce future crop yields and alter groundwater hydrology.
Five or ten percent of a development budget is not too much to spend to
ensure project sustainability. Particularly important are 1) factors that
have multiple impacts (e.g.,hydrology or present social structure); 2)
trial and error field studies; 3) long-term monitoring of changes; 4) in-
ventories mapped at 1:24,000; 5) field interviews; and 6) multidiscipli-
nary teamwork. This means that though periodic multiple-agency review of
the results may be painful, at times it is absolutely essential.
7) Integrate management by sustaining and building linkages between
and within natural resource agencies, participants, and discipline inter-
est. Proper support for natural resource management requires not only the
obvious needs for trained staff and good administration but also formal
and informal linkages within and among all interest groups. Just as the
environment is self-integrated so must management be self-integrated.
These interest groups should include government agencies, educational
institutes, and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), for example. The
purpose of this guideline, then, is to discourage unnecessary bureaucratic
overlaps, to reduce tensions between conflicting interest groups by
addressing areas of conflict, to upgrade general staff awareness of
broader perspectives, and to provide better analysis.
Each country has individual requirements and obstacles to overcome
to implement this guideline. Specifics are not possible to pre-
sent in this format. There are five areas of successful effort possible
or exemplified in southeast Asian coastal management: in education, parti-

431

cipation by NGOs, salary equitability, introduction of techniques advancing
integrative approaches, and administrative encouragement. Education is im-
portant because it broadens participant perspectives, skills, and experi-
ences. This integrates management by means of the individual. Educational
support might include multi-national or regional training centers such as
Biotrop (Bogor, Indonesia) and environmental studies centers like those be-
ing established throughout Indonesia (Hanson and Koesoebiono, 1979).
These research centers are important to the country because they emphasize
training of adequately prepared nationals and long-term association with for-
eign educational facilities, and encourage broad rather than narrow research

and teacher training.
For countries like Indonesia, virtually 100% of the foreign-trained stu-
dents return home to work immediately on major environmental issues. They
bring back both formal and informal connections with the rest of the world.
Exchange programs within and among countries can be further encouraged
by providing long-term support for major regional journals, providing partial
salary support for an English translator/editor, or buying extra distribution
copies. The effect would be to stimulate dissemination of information among
those who are open to learning in this format, to encourage local scientists
to share and preserve information in a readily available format.
Nongovernmental organizations such as the International Union for the
Conservation of Nature, national public-interest groups, professional soci-
eties, and, at times, large donors and grantors (e.g., the World Bank and
foundations) can be extremely useful through administrative review of issues
and programs or providing funding. Smaller regional groups usually require
only a little encouragement to grow and participate. Sometimes phone calls,
speeches and committee work are enough stimulus. In Indonesia the necessary
field work under difficult conditions is encouraged by providing salary
incentives. Some workers earn up to 50% or more of their annual salary
from extra compensation for field work.
New technologies require integrative linkages in training and adminis-
tration to be developed. They therefore encourage linkages when introduced
to the host country. Administrators should recognize and support the multi-
disciplinary nature of technologies such as remote sensing, statistical anal-
ysis, and computer use.

432

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440

Case Study Six

CATCHMENT LAND USE AND ITS IMPLICATIONS FOR

COASTAL RESOURCES CONSERVATION

Random DuBois with Leonard Berry and Richard Ford

SUMMARY

The objective of this case study is to demonstrate the cause-
and-effect linkages which exist between inland land use and tropical coast-
al areas. Kenya's Athi River catchment, a predominantly semi-arid basin
characterized by zones of widespread human-induced erosion, was selected as

the site for the study. The selection was based on previous personal ex-
perience as well as written accounts which linked erosion and downstream
sedimentation with large-scale coastal changes. The approach followed in
this study was to document coastal resource changes attributable to

upland phenomena, distinguish between natural and human-induced sources of
coastal changes, document the economic and ecological significance of these

coastal changes, suggest possible corrective actions, and discuss the po-
tential coastal implications resulting from newly proposed upland basin de-
velopment activities. The methods employed to collect the required infor-

mation were a review of the literature, interviews in Kenya, site visits
throughout the catchment, observations recorded from an aerial overflight
at the coast, and use of SCUBA to make underwater observations.

The results of the case study demonstrate that human activities which
disrupt the existing steady-state equilibrium between upland and coastal

portions of a catchment can result in significant coastal changes. Many of
these changes, depending on their nature and extent, can result in consid-
erable economic and environmental costs. Due to the general lack of data
characterizing tropical coastal ecosystems and the absence of environmental

monitoring programs, coastal modifications are often initially difficult to
discern. Generally, attempts to mitigate negative impacts associated with
coastal changes are most successful when applied at the source responsible
for the changes. Long-term resolution of upstream-coastal conflicts may

require expansion of authority of an existing government institution or the

creation of a new agency to provide the jurisdictional scope needed to ad-

dress basin-wide issues. The case study concludes with a set of guidelines
for coastal planners and managers which recommend means to identify, moni-
tor, and mitigate the coastal impacts resulting from upland land altera-

tion.

444

1. INTRODUCTION

Evidence is increasing that unsound, unplanned, inland land-use practices
are significant causes of change in coastal areas. In part, this can be
attributed to a growing understanding by researchers of the physical re-
lationships which exist between the coast and inland regions. This
knowledge has facilitated the documenting of linkages between coastal
impacts such as fish kills and habitat degradation with a range of inland

sources including dumping of toxic wastes and deforestation. This case
study presents a detailed example demonstrating cause-and-effect linkages
which exist between inland land use and coasts characteristic of tropical

areas. It documents the economic and environmental costs associated with

coastal degradation which accrue when these linkages are not accounted
for in land-use planning and development. It attempts to convey the dif-
ficulties which coastal land managers face when attempting to resolve in-
land land-use issues affecting the coast. Finally, it suggests possible
institutional mechanisms which may overcome some of these difficulties.
Specifically, the case study attempts to answer the following ques-

tions:

� What coastal resource changes can be attributed to upland
phenomena?
� To what extent do these changes result from upland agriculture
and other human land-use practices as opposed to natural

causes?

� What is the economic and ecological significance of these

modifications?

� What means exist for corrective action?

� What are the coastal implications resulting from proposed
upland basin development activities?
This case study focuses on coastal impacts resulting from upland
land uses in the Athi-Galana-Sabaki catchment (watershed) in Kenya. The
decision to use a catchment to illustrate several examples of cause-
and-effect relationships was based on the following arguments: first, a
catchment serves as a convenient natural ecological unit for development
planning and implementation; second, a number of nations throughout the
developing world are forming organizations for the development and manage-

445

ment of river basins; third, natural resources planners are becoming in-
creasingly aware that coastal zones are affected by upland agriculture and
industrialization via river flow; and fourth, the U.S. Agency for Inter-
national Development (USAID) and other donor organizations are showing in-
creasing interest in watershed management as a means to incorporate

natural resource considerations into development planning.
Kenya's Athi-Galana-Sabaki catchment (Athi for short) was proposed by
the author as a suitable site for the study's objectives for meeting the
following selection criteria: the coastal portion of the Athi's catchment

and its estuarine and marine resources have been and continue to be modi-

fied as a result of upland land use; the nature and extent of these modi-
fications have resulted in both positive and negative impacts on present
coastal uses, some of which come at considerable economic costs; reason-
ably good documentation is available; Kenya offers a good, though recently
developed, institutional framework to provide support for such an inquiry;
and finally, the Athi River case study represents a set of issues which
are presently, or soon will be, faced by other African nations as well as

tropical developing coastal countries from other regions.
The methods employed in preparing the case study included: a review
of the literature; interviews with individuals in Kenya; site visits
throughout the catchment; observations recorded from an aerial over flight
at the coast; and the use of SCUBA to make underwater reef observations.

Unfortunately, data gaps prevented complete documentation of the Athi
catchment's recorded history. In part, this was due to our failure to ob-
tain older specific documents which would have been valuable for compara-

tive purposes. More importantly perhaps, some types of data were absent
because studies had never been conducted in the region. In cases where
important data were lacking, our field observations had to suffice. These

data constraints made it particularly difficult for us to distinguish the

degree to which coastal resource impacts were attributable to natural as

opposed to human-induced causes.

This case study, like the others in this series in which the author
participated, could not have been completed without significant invest-

ments of time and energy from a number of individuals. I wish to thank
officials of the Tana and Athi River Development Authority, in Kenya, par-

446

ticularly Mr. Gerishon Gichuki (Director) and Mr. John Kimani (Director of
the Athi River Development Authority). I am indebted to Mr. Hebel Nyanlu
(Director) and Paul Mungai (Chemist and Pollution Control Specialist) in
the Ministry of Environment and Natural Resources, National Environment and
Human Settlements Secretariat (NEHSS). Tom Downing (NEHSS) must also be
singled out for making all of the local arrangements as well as for pro-
viding substantive support. Rita Bowry and Tom Gilbert of the Environ-
mental training and Management for Africa Program were also instrumental in
providing back-up support.

I must mention John Clark of the U.S. National Park Service, whose
patient and constructive comment in the review of the manuscript provided
much needed quality control. Finally I wish to acknowledge those additional
individuals too numerous to cite who contributed to the success and completion
of the study.

447

2. STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM

2.1 Overview

Renewable resources of the coastal area (defined here as that transition
zone between terrestrial and marine components of the environment) are of-
ten vulnerable to human activities which take place at inland sites (Table
1). Due to the indirect nature of their impact and distant location from
the coast, these inland activities represent a major problem for coastal
users and managers alike. Impacts which may be significant when measured
in terms of ecological and economic costs often prove difficult to detect
in their early stages. Even when impacts have been identified, connecting
them with their respective inland sources can be a complicated task. Fin-

ally, the time-consuming process of impact detection and source identifi-
cation often creates delays which allow the problem to reach a magnitude

beyond the resources of the coastal manager.
Inland sources of coastal impact associated with unpredictable events
such as natural hazards allow few means for resolution other than preven-
tative and contingency planning for these emergencies. More tractable are

predictable events which can be anticipated though often proving difficult
to discern for several reasons which include inadequate detection and mon-
itoring capabilities, ignorance of the sources of the impacts, and failure
to understand the underlying processes and linkages through which the
cause-and-effect relationships manifest themselves.

Even where the relationships are understood, appreciated and de-
tected, most countries lack an adequate institutional framework to imple-
ment corrective actions. In the absence of such a framework, ad hoc cor-

rective measures can lead to inconsistent and inefficient solutions to

deal with the problems. Inadequate institutional responses are of special
concern when the coastal impacts include irreversible resource degradation

such as often occurs in cases of habitat destruction.

To illustrate some of these issues and provide some guidance to their
possible resolution, the Athi catchment is described in some detail be-

low.

448

Table 1. Exam les of catchment develop nt activities which affect the coastal environment.

Human-Induced Coastal Effect Significance
Activity Physical Result Interim Step (1) Interim Step (2) (Principal) (.Major) Source

Overgrazing of Devegetation Accelerated River-borne Increased Coral reef Chave and
steep catchment erosion sediment sedimentation in die-off Maragos
slopes transport coastal waters (1973)

Urban develop- Increased Increased erosion Increased volume Altered hydro- Fish kill Banner
ment impervious and water run-off and velocity of logic regime (1968)
surfaces river flow

Dam Water Reduced flow Reduced nutrient Reduced Fish production Fahim
construction impoundment inputs productivity declines (1981)

Irrigation Water Reduced flow Reduced nutrient Reduced Seagrass Thayer et
development diversion inputs productivity degradation al. (1975)

Irrigation Stream Increased flow Increased volume Altered hydro- Seagrass Thayer et
development channelization and velocity of logic regime degradation al. (1975)
river flow

Industrial Thermal Increased ambient No step Increased ambient Seagrass Roessler
development effluent temperature temperature degradation and Zieman
(stream) (coastal waters) (1969)

Industrial Chemical Freshwater Contaminant Contaminated Fish kill Wahby et
development pollution contamination deposition and coastal waters al. (1978)
resuspension

Agriculture Pesticide Freshwater Contaminant Contaminated Fish kill Randall
development run-off contamination deposition and coastal waters (1972)
resuspension

2.2 Athi Catchment (Kenya)
Kenya's Athi River Basin is the country's second largest catchment, drain-
ing an area estimated to be 70,000 km2 (Figure 1). The basin's principal
river, the Athi, also known as the Galana and Sabaki in its lower reaches,
terminates at the edges of the Indian Ocean in a small delta composed
principally of sandbars running parallel to the coast (Figure 2). Physi-
cally, the river drains a broad range of ecological and climatic zones ex-
tending from Kenya's highlands to the coastal plain. Present land-use
patterns are diverse, ranging from expanding cities to shifting pastoral
use. At the base of the catchment lies Malindi, one of East Africa's old-
est settlements. The city, presently one of Kenya's most active centers
for coastal tourism, is located less than 10 kilometers south of the mouth
of the Sabaki (Athi) River. Some of East Africa's most diverse and at-

tractive coral and marine grass bed communities occur offshore. In 1968,
to protect this rich marine life, the Kenya government created tropical
Africa's first marine park, Malindi Marine National Park. The Park and

surrounding waters have since been designated a UNESCO World Biosphere Re-

serve.

There is a growing body of evidence that the amount of river-borne
sediment reaching the coast has increased dramatically in recent years and
that this sediment is resulting in the degradation of nearby coral reefs
and coastal beaches (Pertet, 1982; Finn, 1982). This destruction of the
region's natural beauty in turn adversely affects tourism, at considerable
economic loss to the community. Other economic losses partially or wholly

attributable to increased sediment loads include the cost of construction

of sediment settling ponds to assure the quality of Malindi's water supply
and the apparent recent marked declines in fish catches.

Several studies have identified one or more sources explaining the
apparent increased sedimentation. The principal causes cited include
natural phenomena, devegetation and non-sustainable agricultural and live-
stock land-use pressures (Ongweny, 1980; Dunne, 1977; NSCR, 1974). While
most researchers agree @hat a problem exists there appears to be a lack of
consensus on which connective plans should be implemented toward its reso-
lution (TARDA, 1981; NSCR, 1974; Delft Hydraulics Laboratory, 1970).

450

Northern Ewa@,,,o Ngiro Catchment
Rift Valley
)Catc/hment

Victoria
/Catciir@ent
i North
.Nanyuk@

Kerwho
*Nakur
Victori
Catchment
South
@7:71. Tana Catchment

a
hment::
tchrn@-,P.I

Figure 1. Kenya's Athi River catchment (Source: Survey of Kenya, 1969).

Figure 2. Mouth of the Salbaki (Athi) River, Kenya (source: photo by DuBoils).

The first national response to the Athi River sedimentation problem

came in 1973 with the creation of the National Sabaki Committee. Though

the Committee proposed a series of recommendations, none was ever fully
implemented (see section 7.6). Then in 1974, the Tana River Development
Authority was created to oversee the development of the adjacent Tana
River catchment (which parallels the Athi) flowing into the Indian Ocean.
In 1982, the Athi River was added to the jurisdiction of the Tana River
Development Authority to create the Tana and Athi River Development Autho-
rity (TARDA). TARDA has proposed a number of development schemes, includ-
ing hydroelectric and irrigation activities of the Athi catchment, which
have served to renew concern over the basin's sedimentation problem. The
significance of these proposed basin development activities to the coastal

area will be more fully discussed in section 8.

453

I COASTAL CHARACTERIZATION

3.1 Kenya's Coast
Kenya's coastline extends approximately 400 km, from 1.6* south latitude to
4.6* south latitude, bordering a portion of the western Indian Ocean. The
area surrounding Malindi marks a general boundary between two predominant
coastal morphological types. To the north lie broad alluvial plains, ex-
tending up to 80 km inland, while south of Malindi the plain narrows to as
little as 5 km, often rising steeply to coastal hills as Pleistocene reef
rock becomes increasingly apparent (Schroeder et al., 1974). Offshore,
Kenya's continental shelf area measures approximately 10,000 km2 (to 200
meters in depth) and is generally narrow except in the south where it
broadens to form the Kenya Banks (Kollberg, 1979).

3.2 Sabaki (Athi) Coastal Area
In the area immediately adjacent to the Sabaki river mouth (Figure 3),
large dune ridges reaching 25 meters in height run parallel to the coast.

From the south of these ridges to Vasco da Gama point, the coast features

wide, flat beaches exposed to incoming swell. Farther to the south, off-
shore reefs and tidal flats act as buffers against incoming waves. These
reefs modify beach profiles on the nearby shore, resulting in increased
slope and reduced breadth.

Near Malindi the most prominent marine feature is the extensive fring-
ing reef which begins south of the Sabaki River mouth and intermittently
continues down into Tanzania. The outer or windward reef slopes in this
portion of East Africa show the development of -spur and groove" formations
which function to help sweep back water piled up on the reef by incoming
waves (Hamilton and Brakell, 1984). On the landward side of the reef, ex-
tending up to 100 meters in width, a platform composed of consolidated
Pleistocene reef, recent rubble and living reef is characteristic. Other
prominent features inside the reef include extensive marine grass beds,
small patch reefs and well developed tidal flats, often separated from each
other by a lagoon and numerous small tidal channels (Figure 4).

454

MALINDI BAY

MALINDI

PILLAR

REEF

J C R IT'

REEF
I
2
01 1 J@
k rn MALINDI MARINE
....... ----------------- 10 Fathoms NATIONAL PARK

Cora Re f
Boun1darye LEOPARD
REEF

Figure 3. Malindi and its coastal -ivi-rolls (source: Delft Hydraulics
Laboratory, 1970).

455

Figure 4. Offshore frbiging reef and tidal flats (source: photo by DuBoils).

3.3 Malindi Town

3.3.1 History
The Sabaki River empties into the Indian Ocean near the ancient Arabic town
of Malindi (Kilifi District). The town dates back at least to the 13th
century when a flourishing trade developed across the Indian Ocean and
along the Arabian cost. Malindi is also near the site where the Portuguese
explorer Vasco da Gama, on a voyage which had brought him around Cape
Horn, came ashore in 1497. The Portuguese, desiring to tap into the local
lucrative trade markets remained in the area and built trading facilities
within the next few years. This Portuguese presence eventually led to the
establishment of a regional headquarters near Malindi responsible for gov-
erning all of Portugal's northeast African possessions (Martin, 1973).
Since these early times, the town's history has been uneven. The fol-
lowing phases can be discerned: early pre-European prosperity; its demise
under sporadic Portuguese suzerainty; a brief period of an Arab-dominated
plantation economy employing local slave labor; use as a leisure resort re-
treat for retired vacationing post-WWII British colonialists; and most re-
cently a thriving international tourist attraction, especially popular with

German tourists.

3.3.2 Economic Base

Today the economy of Malindi and its environs is based on three principal
sectors: agriculture, fishing and tourism.
Agriculture has several components. The traditional sector produces
maize, sorghum, millet, cowpeas and rice while cotton and cashews dominate
the cash sector. The cattle industry recently has assumed importance and
continues to expand, especially because demands for meat are increasing to
supply tourist hotels.

Fishing has been important to Malindi residents for centuries. How-
ever, only at the end of WWII did the industry develop into an economically
viable one of regional importance. Fish landings grew from an estimated
190 metric tons in 1948 to a peak of 1,547 metric tons in 1972, before
going into decline (IDS, 1979).

457

At present the most important coastal fishing areas in Kenya are to
the north in Ungwana Bay and offshore near Lamu, some 20 and 80 km respec-
tively from Malindi (Figure 1). However, due to the absence of adequate
landing facilities and ground transportation infrastructure in these
localities, Malindi continues to play an important role as an off-loading
site for transport of fish catch to Mombasa. The future of this role,
which once appeared secure due to the extension of Malindi's pier to serve
deeper draft fishing vessels, is however now threatened by sediments fill-
ing in the bay which could jeopardize the project's intended purpose.

The evolution of Malindi's tourism sector has been described in some

depth by Martin (1973). According to this source, the growth of modern
tourism can be traced back to the construction of the town's first hotels

in the 1930's. Even at that time the industry was based on the area's as-
sets of tropical climate, sand beaches, coral reefs, cultural attractions
and its proximity to the large inland game reserves.
While Malindi's tourism industry catered primarily to the European
settlers in East and Central Africa in its early days, the @ntroduction of
European-oriented package tours created a vast new market by the late
1960's. In the interim, the two original hotels had grown to five with
internationally acceptable standards (Achieng, 1978). In the period be-
tween 1964 and 1978 alone, Malindi's total number of tourist beds in-
creased from 234 to 1150 (Norconsult, 1981). Martin (1973) estimated that
the burgeoning tourist industry with its accompanying related goods and
services sectors was the largest single employer in-town.
The rapid growth of Malindi's tourism industry was, in part, a result
of the creation of East Africa's first marine park at Malindi in 1968.

The primary justification for park designation was to conserve a represen-
tative example of Kenya's coastal and marine communities including
beaches, coral and marine grass bed systems and mangroves. Today, the
combined system, known as the Malindi and Watamu Marine National Parks and
Reserve, consists of two core parks surrounded by a reserve measuring a
total of 240 square km (Figure 5). The reserve acts as a buffer zone
where subsistence fishing, prohibited in the park, is allowed (Pertet,
1982).

458

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RESERVE WATAMU '0!@@
C;J
MIDA WATAMU INDIAN OCEAN
CREEK MARINE
NATIONAL
PARK
a 6. Approximate location ol site visits

Figure 5. Malindi. and Watamu Marine National Parks and Reserves (source:
Ray, 1968).
MAIN
MOM Ll 0
BASA

459

Total annual visitors to Malindi's marine park grew from 18,840 in
1969 to 47,389 in 1979. While this represents a relatively small percent-
age of visitors in comparison to the rest of the country's game parks (5%
vs. 95%), its contribution to Malindi's tourist economy is important
(Pertet, 1982).

3.4 Coastal Wind and Current Regimes

To understand the role of the Athi River and its effects on the beaches of

Malindi, a description of the dynamics of the coastal and nearshore por-

tions of the Athi catchment is warranted.

3.4.1 Indian Ocean Monsoons

The two principal factors governing East Africa's coastal water currents

are the southeast trade winds and the location of the Indian Ocean monsoon.

The southeast trades serve as the principal driving force behind the South
Equatorial Current (Figure 6). Off the coast of Tanzania, near 10*S, the
current divides into northeasterly (East African Coastal Current) and
southwesterly components (Mozambique Current). During the months June to
September, solar heating of the Asian land mass creates a massive low
pressure cell which results in prevailing southwesterly winds (SW monsoon).
These winds drive the East African Coastal Current (EACC) up to the north-
ern tip of Somalia before veering away toward the east (Kollberg, 1979).

During the winter cooling of continental Asia, the SW monsoon is re-
placed by the NIE monsoon and the wind patterns reverse themselves. North-

easterly winds off Somalia drive the Somali current in an opposite direc-
tion down the East African coast where, upon meeting the remnant of the
EACC, an easterly flowing current is created (The Equatorial Counter Cur-
rent) at approximately 2*S (Kollberg, 1979).

3.4.2 Coastal Currents

The effect of these seasonal wind and wind-driven current changes is easily

discernible off the Malindi coast. Current observations taken some 10

kilometers offshore indicate that it sets constantly in a north-
northeasterly direction with a velocity as high as 3 knots during the SW

460

t4f Mo ,oon current C Ur rent
==> on
SO
Insoorl 0010S
@@Sw MO nt Current
curre ISO
le 1,50on

4@/
0 00
0
4@'
0
SOMALI

Got

SP
Equatorial Counter Current N

NE Monsoon

cz
03 -
KENYA

South Equatorial
TANZANJIA 00 Current
All Year
j11000
0 00 0 300

Figure 6. Current system of the North and Central Western Indian Ocean
(source: Kollberg, 1979). 00"t",
O's

461

Monsoon. During the NE Monsoon, current speed is reduced to 1-2 knots.

Closer to shore, however, an effect of the NE Monsoon can be a southerly
counter-current which appears to be most persistent during the months of
November and December (British Admiralty, 1939; USDMA, 1978). These obser-
vations are further substantiated by recent field measurements which re-
corded southern setting currents of three-fourths of a knot during the same
period (Delft Hydraulics Laboratory, 1970).
The significance of a southwesterly current near Malindi becomes obvi-
ous when sediment plumes emanating from the mouth of the Athi are mapped
(Figure 7). These observations made over two monsoonal seasons clearly

document the southward transport of sediment past Malindi into the extensive
coral reefs located in the marine park.
While the transporting current described above may only be seasonal,
over the long term it has been extremely effective in distributing river-
borne sediment to areas south of the river's mouth. Hove (198.1) identifies

the two principal sources of beach and nearshore sediment in the Malindi
area as clastic quartz sands (primarily terrigenous in origin) and biogenic
carbonates formed from the offshore grassbed and coral reef communities.
Based on analysis of nearshore sediment samples collected from the Sabaki
River south to the Watamu area, Tiove (1981) demonstrated the presence of a
strong gradient in the percentage of quartz composition, ranging in values
greater than 95 percent near the river mouth but declining proportionately

with distance from the river's mouth. Since the Athi River is the obvious

source of these quartz sands (eroded from inland sources) the gradient in
quartz sand to the south demonstrates how important the river is in provid-
ing sediments to the nearshore environment.

462

S.E.Monsoon

9 APR 75 2 JUN 75

R. R.
S, ba Saba"

-X.

Malindi
M
lindi

LOW TIDE HIGH TIDE

N.E. Monsoon

11 NOV 75 23 DEC 79

Ras Ngomeni

W4
Sa
b3
. ..... CALM

Malindi Malindi

LOW TIDE
EBB TIDE

0 10 20 km

Band 6 Band 5 Band 4

Figure 7. Comparative dispersion of sediment plumes from the gabaki River
for th@-- S.W. and N.E. monsoon (source: Brakel, 1983).

463

4. CATCHMENT CHARACTERIZATION

The foregoing descriptive account outlines the basic coastal transport
mechanism which carries river-borne sediment (as well as fresher water,
nutrients and pollutants) into the area adjacent to and south of Malindi.

Section 3 also documents the Athi's sediment contribution to the beaches of

the area and describes the shelf area's sediment composition. It does not,
however, examine the origin and transport of sediment from inland areas to
the coast and the role of human activities in sediment production or how

that role may have changed over recent years. To address these questions

we must turn to the source areas of sediment and examine the causes for its

production.

4.1 The River Corridor

The Athi River (Figure 8) extends more than 650 km in length including
known sources of headwaters and drains an area estimated to be 70,000 km2
or 12 percent of the country (NCSR, 1974). The river begins in the small
creeks and streams of the Ngong Hills located to the west and southwest of
Nairobi. As these tributaries merge they form a south to north flowing
river in a valley which cuts across the general trend of topography. The
south-southwest trend of the drainage is resumed just south of the Yatta
Plateau and forms an increasingly narrow basin as it approaches the sea.
In name, the river is known as the Athi until reaching the confluence of
the Tasvo River where it becomes known as the Galana. This, in turn,
changes to the Sabaki when reaching the coastal floodplain (Figure 8).
As might be expected, with the change in elevation from over 2,400
meters to sea level the river passes through (and drains) lands with vary-
ing physical, climatic and vegetative characteristics.

In the higher reaches of the river, the catchment alternates between
hills and valleys characterized by steep slopes, with generally thick and

fertile soils and plentiful rainfall. In the middle reaches, however, the
surrounding landscape comprising over 60 percent of the catchment is an

arid and semi-arid core. This middle portion of the basin gradually makes

464

,EMBU

KITU MALI I

,MURANGA

TANA RIVER
(COASTAL)
Z KILIFI
q KITUI KILIFI
,MACHAKOS (EASTERN) (COASTAL)
NAIROBI MACHAKOS (EASTERN)

OMBAS

KAJIADO (RIFT VALLEY) TA Vol KWALE,
COASTAL) KWALE
(COASTAL)

K04YA
100k. T A t4 z A
0 50

Figure 8. The Athi River catchment (source: TARDA, 1981).

the transition to a broad alluvial floodplain, extending up to 80 km in
width in some portions (Schroeder et al., 1974).

4.2 Geology
Three major geological formations underlie most of the Athi catchment:
volcanic rocks mostly occurring in the upper reaches of the catchment,
granitic and metamorphic rocks in the ancient basement complex exposed in
the central catchment area, and sedimentary rocks characterizing the
floodplain (TARDA, 1981).
Volcanic rocks range in age from tertiary to recent. They appear to

have extruded in association with massive earth movements which led to the

formation of the Rift Valley to the west. The volcanic outpourings were
greatest near the margin of the Rift. In the upper Athi catchment, iso-
lated volcanic cones rise above deposits of lava several thousand feet
thick. These lavas provide good reservoirs of sub-surface water in some
localities. In the middle catchment, the lavas which now form the Yatta
Plateau form a topographic barrier which plays a large part in creating
the "one-sided" river basin (TARDA, 1981).
The granitic rocks of the Machakos Hills and the metamorphic rocks of
the basement underlie most of the central part of the basin. They tend to
weather into quartz-rich sandy soils and are easily eroded. These rocks
provide only local sources of sub-surface water. Run-off percentages are
higher than in the upper catchment. This middle region of the catchment
appears to be the primary source area of sediments reaching the coast
(NCSR, 1974).
The karroo sedimentary rocks (fine-grained sandstones) together with
the coastal tertiary sediments occupy the lower Athi basin. As the valley
is quite narrow in this area they have less influence on total river and
sediment characteristics. As much of the karroo beds are made up of sand-
stones and grits, they weather slowly in contrast to the more friable
(easily fragmented) calcareous tertiary materials.
In summary, the geology of the basin is very important both for its
hydrology and for its sediment yield. In the wetter upper catchment, vol-
canic rocks promote some infiltration resulting in a more even flow of

466

water. In the central catchment, the geology promotes more rapid run-off
and a higher sediment yield. The lower catchment, covering only about 7
percent of the total drainage area, is less important than either of the
other two parts of the basin.

4.3 Climate
Over 50 percent of the basin receives less than 500 mm of rainfall and is
considered to be a region characterized by semi-arid conditions (Mansell-
Moullin, 1973). However, a combination of higher altitudes and maritime
influences from the Indian Ocean causes relatively high levels of annual
precipitation in two areas: near the coast and at the base of the Aber-
dares (Figure 9).

Due to the moisture-laden eastern winds associated with the Indian

Ocean monsoons, two seasonal rainfall peaks occur in the basins: March to
May (known as the "long rains-) and October to December (the -short
rains"). Ertuna (1979) points out that these names may be inaccurate
since those described as "short" can often be of longer duration than the

long rains.
The "short rains" season is particularly relevant to this case study

since it coincides with the November-December southerly-flowing currents
off the Malindi coast, i.e., the time of maximum transport of sediment
south along the coast to the coral reefs. Njuguna (1978) estimated that a
lapse of two to three weeks occurs between upland precipitation and the
arrival of the resultant run-off at the coast, leaving ample time for the

two conditions to coincide.

Because of the strongly seasonal pattern of rainfall and the consid-
erable influence of direct run-off in the basin, there is high variability
in the volume of river flow. In the highlands, flows can range from tor-
rents during the wet season to only a minimal base flow draining off the
lower slopes of the Aberdares. In the arid middle reaches of the river,
where intensive human land use has reduced infiltration ratios, the land's
capacity to absorb rainfall, recharge the water table and maintain a year-
round river flow is also minimal or may even be absent until reaching the
confluence of the Tsavo River. This tributary is fed by drainage from the

467

1250
EMBU

00
KITUI MALI

,MURANGA

750

012 0100075 1250 1500
500
500 KILIFI

,MACHAKOS

NAIROBI

00 MOMBASA
750 500

1 so Vol KWALE,
1000
750
500 500

500 750 K ENY

.50 100k@
TAt4ZAN

500

Figure 9. Mean annual precipitation, in millimeters (source: Mansell-Moulin, 1973).

Irrigation Dams

Kibwezi Munyu
Yatta

Tsavo
QMURANGA MALI I

5'v

KILIFI

.MACHAKOS

NAIROBI

MOMBASA

3 *Vol KWALE,

K F Y A

50
120k. A N Z

Figure 10. Proposed dam sites and projects for the Athi catchment (source: Kenya, 1969).

volcanic soils of the Chyulu Hills and has a small but reliable base flow.

In the lower catchment there are no well-defined tributaries. There, the
run-off pattern is erratic and is largely dependent on local storms in
this area of the catchment (TARDA, 1981).

4.4 Human Population
The population of the Athi basin was estimated at 2.9 million (18 percent
of Kenya's total) based on a series of assumptions. The following assump-
tions were used: figures for districts wholly or very nearly within the
boundaries of the basin (Nairobi, Kiambu, Machakos) were accepted with no
modification, the population figures for remaining districts were scaled
to their approximate geographic proportion falling inside the catchment
(33 percent for Kajiado and 50 percent for both Taita and Kiiifi), and
Kitui and Tana River Districts were not counted (see Figure 8).
The two most heavily populated rural districts are Machakos (1.02
million) and Kiambu (686,000) though their order is reversed when calculat-
ing population densities (having areas of 72 and 266 km2 respectively).
The catchment also contains the country's largest city and capital, Nai-
robi, with an estimated population of 838,000. (As a comparison, Mombasa,
situated on the coast to the south and outside of the Athi catchment, is
Kenya's second largest city with a population of approximately 342,000.)
Comparing the Athi's present population with the 1.9 million inhabi-
tants recorded in the 1969 census (employing the same assumptions noted
above) the estimated rate of growth is calculated to be 4.2 percent an-

nually. This unrelenting increase in population has resulted in growing
human pressures on the land which, in turn, appear to be contributing to
accelerated rates of erosion and high downstream sediment loads.

4.5 Land Use and Its Potential

Outside the urban areas of Nairobi, Thika and Malindi, most inhabitants of
the basin earn their livelihoods either as agriculturalists in the moder-
ately to highly productive upland areas or as pastoralists and subsistence
farmers in the semi-arid regions (Maritim, 1981).

470

Almost all cultivated areas in the catchment are rainfed. Predomi-

nant subsistence crops include maize, sorghum, beans, cowpeas, pigeon
peas, cassava and an assortment of vegetables and fruit trees. The more
important cash crops are coffee, sugar cane, tea, pyrethrum, sisal and
cashew (TARDA, 1981). The size of agricultural holdings falls into two
categories: the plots of small land holders, typically varying from I to
3 hectares; and the large plantations and estates, which may reach several

tens of thousands of hectares.
Livestock production is important for much of the catchment's popula-
tion. Three distinct livestock regions can be identified in the catch-
ment: areas of high agricultural potential characterized by small herd
size due to competition with crop production, the arid and semi-arid land
dominated by the subsistence pastoralists, and coastal ranching. Even
though the efficiency of livestock production in the catchment is poor,
livestock will continue to be an important land use, especially in semi-
arid areas where crop production is poor (TARDA, 1981).
Substantial portions of the central catchment area are included in
the East and West Tsavo National Parks. Many of the parks' more scenic
physical assets are located in the Atbi basin and play an important role
in water recharge (Mzima Springs, Chyulu Range). The parks are a major
tourist attraction in Kenya and account for more than 100,000 visitors
annually (Ecosystems Ltd., 1982).
A recent assessment of land-use potential, using the Kenya Soil Sur-
vey agro-climatic classification scheme, judged 45 percent of the basin
(and the continuous coastal lands to the south) unsuitable for crop pro-
duction (TARDA, 1981). An additional 40 percent was considered only mar-
ginally suitable with high risk for crop failure. The assessment further

noted that the classification scheme does not account for local soil con-

ditions which could further reduce the extent of arable land.

4.6 Water Use

The most important human uses of the catchment's surface waters are for
public water supplies (Nairobi, Mombasa and adjacent coastal area), small-
scale irrigation (in the upper reaches) and various rural water develop-
ment schemes (TARDA, 1981). At present, an estimated 19 percent of Nairo-

471

bits water supply is met through surface water extraction from the Athi
with the remainder satisfied through transfers from the neighboring Tana
catchment. For the immediate future, growing demand in Nairobi. will be

met by increasing transfer loads resulting in increased waste water dis-
charge into the Athi below the city (TARDA, 1981). In the long term, how-

ever, as these transfers become increasingly expensive, alternative
sources will be provided by the construction of the Munyu regulatory dam
on the Athi River (Figure 10).
Downstream, Mombasa's principal source of water has been from the
Mzima pipeline (drawing off water from springs feeding the Tsavo River).
More recently, the construction of the Baricho weir on the Sabaki has
doubled Mombasa's water supplies (40 million m3/year) of which 83 percent
is derived from the Athi or its tributaries (TARDA, 1981). Future demand

is expected to be met by the construction of a second pipeline from Mzima
Springs, possibly in association with the construction of a storage dam on
the Tsavo River to maintain the Baricho intake (TARDA, 1981).
In a 1977 survey of groundwater use, an estimated 2,000 boreholes, or

over 50 percent of the national total, were located in the catchment, the
majority in the Nairobi area. Despite the relatively high numbers, when
averaged out, basin-wide groundwater extraction is relatively insignifi-
cant (TARDA, 1981).

At present, most irrigation activity is confined to the upper reaches
of the river where permanent flowing rivers and springs exist. Most di-
versions are small-scale endeavors and serve as a supplemental water sup-
ply to the frequent rains.

Due to the high percentage of dry lands in the catchment and growing
population pressure, the development of irrigation schemes appears to be a
highly desirable solution to meet future human needs (TARDA, 1981).

However, despite the attraction of irrigated development only an es-
timated 80,000 ha of irrigable land is thought to exist in the catchment.
Of that total, practical water constraints limit irrigation potential to
30,000 to 40,000 ha (TARDA, 1981).
Of the several proposed irrigation schemes, now under government con-
sideration for topography, soils and climatic attributes is the Kibwezi
project (Figure 10). Present development options range in size from 6,000

to 29,000 ha.

472

An initial cost-benefit analysis of the potential for hydro-power de-
velopment on the Athi indicated that it was only economically feasible
when incorporated into a multi-purpose development scheme (TARDA, 1981).

With that in mind, the government is currently considering the Munyu Dam
site as a possibility for power generation in conjunction with its other

uses such as water storage and flood control.

473

5. HUMAN ACTIVITIES IN THE UPLANDS CAUSING COASTAL CHANGE

5.1 Sources of Erosion

The scarcity of arable land and high population densities have created in-
tense pressures on the basin's arable land. The arable zones under the

greatest pressure are the Ngong Hills, the Aberdares, the Taita Hills in
Machakos and the coastal region (TARDA, 1981).

In the relatively fertile regions of upland Kiambu District which
drain the base of the Aberdares, over 50 percent of the land is moderately

to steeply sloped. Due to the high priority which farmers place on coffee
and tea production, (with an estimated 36 thousand hectares in production)

the most suitable land has been rapidly put into these lucrative cash
crops. This has forced many small-holding farmers to migrate progressive-

ly upslope and into drier regions to put new land into domestic food pro-
duction. The resulting clearing on these marginal lands (steep slopes
sometimes surpassing 45* inclinations) has been a major cause of slope

failure and has contributed to observed increases in rates of erosion

(Lewis et al., 1983) (Figure 11). Other major sources of erosion and
stream sedimentation are gully erosion (caused principally by road devel-
opment), quarry erosion (mining), and sheet wash erosion (agricultural
activities), as noted in Lewis et al. (1983). There is little information

regarding the absolute amount of eroded sediment which reaches the Athi's
upland tributaries although the steep slopes and high precipitation of the
region provide classic conditions for severe degradation.
However, the portion of the catchment with the greatest soil losses
appears to be the semi-arid and arid Machakos region. By comparing air
photos taken between 1948 and 1972 of the Wamui River subcatchment in
Machakos, Thomas (1974) documented an increase in "severe" erosion area
from 26 to 37 percent. The increase was attributed principally to in-
creased crop production and overgrazing, much of it occurring on slopes of
greater than 16% Thomas also noted major geomorphological changes com-
monly associated with accelerated erosional processes including loss of
vegetative cover, filling in of springs and streams and increases in com-
plexity of drainage networks resulting from gully development. In a sec-
ond catchment, the Iiuni, Thomas et al. (1981) estimated that 7 percent of
the area was poorly cultivated (farming steep

474

"AX

>
k2t

Figure 11. Slope failure in Kiambu District (source: photo by L. Lewis).

475

slopes, poorly protected terraces, evidence of erosion) and an additional

37 percent was degraded pasture land resulting from overgrazing.
Moore (1979) observed several overgrazed sites in the Machakos Hills
and calculated rates of erosion to be as high as 10 mm/year or roughly 60
tons/ha. He predicted that the soil would be totally depleted within 100

years.
Lower in the Athi basin, near the Tsavo confluence, minor sources of
sediment have been attributed to the loss of lacustrine (river side) vege-
tation due to floods in the large Tsavo game parks combined with the ef-
fects of wildlife which caused bank collapse (Wain, 1982).
These and other data have been compiled by Dunne and Wahome (1981) to
produce a map illustrating the estimated range of rates of erosion in
Kenya's arid and semi-arid lands. These values, determined through the use
of a generalized soil loss equation, are presented for areas within the
catchment in Figure 12.

5.1.1 Sediment Loads

River transport of sediment occurs through one of three mechanisms: sus-
pension, saltation (skipping or bouncing over the bottom), and bed load or
gradual rolling and sliding of sediment along the river bottom (Gott-
schalk, 1964). In most attempts to monitor sediment load, suspended sedi-

ment is the only parameter observed, due to ease of measurement. This re-
sults in underestimates of total transport.
While it is unclear how much of the eroded sediment actually reaches
the Athi's tributaries, the results from two studies indicate the accumu-

lation can be significant. In the Iiuni subcatchment, sediment samples
indicate that approximately 535 tons/km2/year were reaching the principal
tributary of which 90 percent was thought to be transported by bed load
(Thomas et al., 1981).
For in Kajiado District, Dunne (1977) calculated erosional losses of
2.5 thousand tons/km2/year of which 358 tons/km2/year reached the catch-
ment's tributary feeding into the Athi.
Documentation is similarly poor for the amounts of sediment actually

transported by the Athi River. However, data from two additional sites in
the upper and middle reaches of the Athi provide some indication of load

476

4 - 7.9 tons/ ha/yr

8- 15 tons/ha/yr

16-31.9 tonsiha/yr

@'32 tons/ha/yr
MALI I
Data not available

KILIFI

MACHAKOS

...... .......
NAIROB X

MOMBASA
. ....... ...
...............
...........
... ....... .. .....
....... ...
. ... ........
Vol KWALE,

................

KENYA
5.0 -T A N ZA-
look. N

Figure 12. Values of soil erosion for arid and semi-arid lands in the Athi catchment (source: D
and Wahome, 1981).

levels. In 1980 and 1981 the Hydrology Section of the Ministry of Water
Development initiated a sediment monitoring program for two potential
water storage sites: Munyu and Mavindini. Based on their observations,
Wain (1982) calculated average annual suspended sediment loads of 0.66 and
6.44 million tons respectively, for the subcatchment's principal arteries.
Based on comparisons between these and earlier results, Wain noted
that suspended sediment yields had increased at both locations (possibly
by a factor of two for Munyu). He also observed that the yield from
Machakos bed rock (predominantly granitic) was an order of magnitude
greater than yields from the upper Athi characterized by volcanic sub-

strata.
Wain further noted that slowly flowing waters (e.g., less than 10 m3/
second), which occur more than 50 percent of the time, accounted for only
I percent of the total suspended sediment transport (TSST) while fast
flows (between 100 and 1,000 m3/second), occurring 14 percent of the time
accounted for 63 percent of the TSST. This finding highlights the impor-
tance of heavy seasonal rains in transporting the bulk of suspended sedi-

ment downstream.

In the absence of calculations for bed load for these sites, these

figures are considered minimal. By using standard conversion tables to
estimate total loads, new provisional figures were calculated for these
two sites and the lower Sabaki (TARDA, 1981). These were: Munyu (.9 mil-
lion tons/yr, Mavindini, 8.5-13.6 million tons/yr, Sabaki, 9.2-14.3 mil-
lion tons/yr. These figures confirm that the heaviest sediment loads oc-

cur in the middle and lower portions of the river, consistent with our

earlier description of these areas as the most altered and highly erosive

sections.

5.2 Pollution

The primary sources of contamination of the Athi's waters are concentrated
in and around the Nairobi-Thika area. These sources, common to most urb-

anized zones, include domestic sewage and commerical and industrial efflu-
ents (TARDA, 1981).

478

Secondary sources of pollution include those of the Kiambu area
(principally fertilizers, pesticides and pulp wastes) associated with tea
and coffee production and Machakos town, which contributes domestic and
commercial effluent into the Athi by way of the Thwake River.
Several treatment facilities exist in or near the major urban centers,

but most appear to be in varying states of disrepair or are overloaded,
causing the dumping of raw sewage downstream (Njuguna, 1978). In a two-
year study of the upper Athi, Njuguna (1978) monitored several water qual-
ity parameters including pH, biological oxygen demand,'dissolved oxygen,
nitrates, nitrites and phosphates. His results documented the presence of
contaminants in river water ranging from 20 to 65 km downstream from
Nairobi (Fourteen Falls) during low water-flow periods. These parameters
were observed to return to expected normal levels in the middle and lower
portions of the river regardless of season. No attempt was made to analyze
heavy metals or other toxic materials.

479

6. COASTAL ENVIRONMENTAL IMPACTS

6.1 Sedimentation

Any discussion of siltation impacts at Malindi should take note that ero-
sion, transport and deposition of sediment are natural processes, which
can and do vary according to many physical, biological, chemical, and cli-
matic variables. One can reasonably assume that over geological time, and

prior to recent human settlement those processes had reached a stable or
equilibrium condition to which all processes had adjusted. That is, coral

reefs and sea grass beds existed in a pattern and state of health that re-
flected a long-established stable pattern of sediment discharge. In the
case of the Athi, however, the evidence suggests that such stable condi-
tions have now been disrupted; upland erosion and downstream deposition
have dramatically increased and coastal systems (beaches, reefs and grass
beds) are now in unstable states as they try to reach new points of equi-

librium.

Sediment has been discoloring Malindi's waters at least since 1948.
Elspeth Huxley visited the area in that year and described the beaches and
waters colored by "...millions of tons of up-country topsoil ... disgorged by
the Sabaki River... covering the area with ... a wide stretch of chocolate-red
silt ... to such a degree that ... bathing is out of the question" (Martin,
1973). We also know from Moore's account (1979) that reports of major soil

erosion in the Machakos area date back to the 1930's.

Despite these early records of sediment-laden waters, our interviews
with local Malindi residents revealed general consensus that the problem
was tolerable until 1961. Om that year an unprecedented flood covered most
of Malindi's beaches with a veneer of fine sediment approaching the con-
sistency of mud. The 1961 flood also coincided with the high tourist sea-
son. Reports from Tsavo East National Park indicated that devastation of
lakeside vegetation washed soil, trees, and smaller vegetation downstream
in great quantities (Mansell-Moullin, 1973).
Due to high water velocities, floods also transport large volumes of
heavier materials down to Malindi that can only be moved by "bed load
transport," further congesting the shore and coast. Dunne (1977) has de-
scribed the existence in river channels of large reservoirs of eroded sand

480

measuring up to three meters in depth and capable of remaining decades be-
fore transport, as from heavy floods, carries them downstream.
In visible terms the most dramatic change resulting from sediment
deposition has been the modification of Malindi's beaches. Beach-width ex-
pansion of up to 200 meters or more has occurred to the south of the Sabaki
River mouth, especially adjacent to the beach frontage of Malindi's major
tourist hotels. Figure 13 shows a view from one of the hotel's original
seawalls to provide a point of reference to compare the previous shore line
with the present day beach. This accretion results from an average annual
deposition of Malindi's beaches estimated to be 5 million m3 (Delft Hy-
draulics Laboratory, 1970).

6.2 Coral Die-Off

Although less visually dramatic, the continuing die-off of coral reef both
inside and outside the marine reserve must be considered as an equally ser-
ious impact. Several reports have described the impacts of sediments and
vegetative debris from various sites in the Malindi reef complex (Delft
Hydraulics Laboratory, 1970; NCSR, 1974; Kenya Wildlife Planning Unit,
1981). Discussion with local recreational divers and observations on dives
made by the author substantiate these reports (Figure 14). Two areas par-
ticularly affected are Pillar Reef and the landward portions of North Reef
(Figure 3).
The high degree of susceptibility of living corals to damage by sedi-
ment relates to several critical characteristics of the group. Perhaps the
most significant effect of sediment is the role it plays in suffocating the
coral. Corals which form reefs are actually colonies of living tissue sup-

ported by skeletons of calcium carbonate. Respiratory gas exchange and
particulate feeding processes occur through a thin film which covers the
colony. When sediment accumulating on the surface of the coral exceeds the
ability of the coral to cleanse itself, feeding and respiration activities
are impeded, which can result in death (Motoda, 1940).
Reef-building corals are also light-demanders. In part, this is due
to the presence of symbiotic unicellular algae imbedded in the living

481

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4r jr

iX@

low-
4,k

V'0

Figure 13. Old seawall at Eden Roc Hotel, Malindi, in right foreground;
ocean at upper edge (source: photo by DuBois).

482

"As
557

0
@Sp @,i V-1

?*
v

Figure 14. Underwater photo taken off Casuarina Point showing dead coral smothered by terrestri
vegetative debris and sediment (source: photo by W.J. Mussett).

problem in Malindi. Nevertheless, the author's field observations to-

gether with other reports of reef die-off confirm the seriousness of the
situation. Data gaps identified in this case study illustrate the need
for a thorough inventory of the parks' resources which can serve as a
baseline for future comparisons and monitoring trends in community status.

6.3 Pollution

The Athi, by draining the country's capital city and largest industrial
center, represents the country's primary recipient of urban and industrial
wastes. Malindi's location at the base of the river directly exposes the

town and adjacent waters to persistent pollutants transported from up-
stream sources by the river. The threat of coastal contamination is fur-
ther increased due to Malindi's location down current (approximately 10
months of the year due to current reversals) from Mombasa. The use of the
river to discharge waste together with Malindi's location make the absence
of data concerning coastal pollution in the area particularly alarming.

In general little is known of the long-term effects of pollution on
tropical marine ecosystems. Endean (1976) notes the results from various
studies measuring the effects of chlorinated hydrocarbons and heavy metals
on corals have been generally inconclusive. The vulnerability of grass-
beds to pollutants, however, appears to be better understood. Studies by
McNulty (1970), Hammer (1972) and Taylor et al. (1973) have linked reduc-
tions in seagrass density and coverage to various pollutants including
domestic and industrial effluent discharges.
The effects of pollutants on reef fish populations have been well

documented. Localized fish kills have been associated with insecticides
(Randall, 1972), pesticides (Bourns, 1970) and high chlorine levels (5
mg/1) associated with power plant outfall (Marsh and Gordon, 1973). In
some cases, contaminated fish can reach the human consumer, resulting in
sickness or even death (Bourns, 1970).
In light of the potential ramifications of the pollution issue for
Malindi's coastal and marine ecosystems, there appears an urgent need for
data collection (and monitoring) of water quality from both source areas
and coastal waters alike. This is particularly important as a means to

484

establish a data base prior to the implementation of the proposed irriga-
tion development schemes mentioned earlier, which could serve as additional
sources of contamination from fertilizers, pesticides, herbicides, etc.,
transported in run-off.

6.4 Reductions in Sedimentation Rates

Although several problems associated with accelerated rates of sediment
deposition have been raised thus far in the case study, a different set of
issues emerges when sedimentation is reduced. One potential source of re-

duction might be through constructing a dam such as the one under consider-
ation near Munyu. A dam, especially if backed by a long impoundment,
serves as an effective sediment trap. Instead of Malindi's beaches expand-
ing, a cutoff of upland sediment would probably result in a net loss of

beach material. Reduced beach size is as great a threat to the tourist in-
dustry as is the present problem of accretion and of muck and ooze filled

sands.

Sediment reduction might also reduce the nutrient potentials for
coastal aquatic life. Few examples support this point more dramatically
than Egypt's Aswan High Dam. Entrapment of nutrients and sediments were
identified as the principal cause of the decline of the country's sardine
fishery, an activity which had accounted for landings estimated at 8,000
metric tons per year (Fahim, 1981).
In consideration of these related aspects of catchment developments
one goal of sound coastal management may be the stabilization of sediment
load to allow the affected coastal ecosystem to achieve a new equilibrium
rather than to attempt to end sedimentation entirely.

485

7. COASTAL ECONOMIC IMPACTS

There can be little doubt that declining water quality and resource condi-
tions (whether actual or perceived) have extracted an economic price as
well as an ecological one.

7.1 Tourism

In the tourist industry, Malindi's growth was dramatic between the mid-
1960's (when package tours were first introduced) and the early 1970's.
Since that time growth has leveled off and there has been no new major
hotel development. In the last two years, tourist arrivals in Malindi
have declined precipitously (Personal communications, Malindi Hotel Asso-
ciation, September 1983).
This decline has been attributed, at least in part, to the area's
growing reputation for dirty water and mucky beaches. A manager of one
tourist hotel (The Eden Roc) felt obligated to include a disclaimer in the
hotel's brochure, noting the possibility of mud and silt during certain

times of the year.

A second common complaint heard by hoteliers is the additional dis-
tance tourists are required to walk to the water's edge due to the beach's
recent accretion. While some managers consider the continually widening
beach as a declining tourist attraction, others appear to have accepted it
stoically and developed it into small parks in front of their hotels.
These newly created areas are currently the target of a legal controversy
between the government and the hoteliers over ownership of the new

beaches.

Operators of sight-seeing glass-bottom and snorkle boats licensed to
visit the reefs in Malindi National Marine Park also appear to suffer eco-
nomically. Business apparently declines from January to March due to
muddy waters and poor visibility (NCSR, 1974). It would be an oversim-
plication to assign full responsibility for Malindi's current tourism de-
clines to the sediment problem. Other factors mentioned in the course of
interviews include periodic recessions in Europe (the trade's chief source
of business), a poor airport, poor roads, the development of alternative
coastal tourist- centers north and south of Mombasa, and a growing reputa-

486

tion among the hotels for catering to young singles rather than families
(which had been the traditional market), causing members of the latter

group to go elsewhere.
Though it is difficult to isolate the relative importance of each
factor, hoteliers agree that the ecological problem is an important com-
ponent. The problem apparently has reached such proportions that hotel-
iers have reduced their rates to stimulate business (Finn, 1982).

7.2 Water Treatment
Malindi's development both as a commercial center and a tourist destina-
tion was at least in part made possible by exploitation of the Sabaki's
fresh water for public consumption in this water-poor northern coastal re-
gion. The present pumping station was completed in 1961. However, as a
result of continued changes in the river channel, partly attributable to
shifts in river bottom and increased flooding, the station was forced to
build a new intake in 1974 and is considering the possible construction of

a third one in 1984.

Increased siltation has also caused filling and clogging of the sta-
tion's sedimentation tanks and sand filters, forcing temporary closure of
the treatment plant. These continued disruptions of the Malindi water
supply necessitated costly construction of pre-sedimentation ponds in 1975
(Figure 15).

7.3 Increased Flood Risk

The relationship between stock overgrazing and increased run-off has been
well established. Compaction of soil results in a reduced capacity of the
land to absorb rainfall, therefore speeding run-off and increasing the
chances of downstream flooding (Musgrave and Holton, 1964; Slatyer and
Mabbutt, 1964). In the Athi catchment, reliable estimates for flood pre-
diction do not exist due to the absence of accurate measurements (Mansell-
Moullin, 1973). The failure to predict floods attributable to the river-

breached banks and storm run-off is critical to the Malindi area where

periodic flooding has resulted in studies examining various flood-water

487

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00
cc

41
M@v
MU
, *"414

Figiire 15. Pre-sedimentation ponds at Malindi pumping station (source: photo by T. Downing)

discharge schemes to reduce economic and personal risk (Norconsult,
1981).

7.4 Pollution

No reliable water quality data could be obtained from the two principal
water treatment facilities in the river's low reaches (Baricho and
Malindi). While water quality results from Njuguna's study (1978) indi-

cate that normal conditions exist in waters some 65 km. downriver from

Nairobi, they do not take into account toxic
substances like pesticides and heavy metals. Of equal concern is the ap-
parent failure in government-funded studies to address possible downstream
impacts associated with proposed irrigation schemes and their effluent re-
turn discharges to the river (TARDA, 1981). The socio-economic costs
stemming from contaminated water supplies, toxic fisheries and polluted
coastal waters in an area where tourism and fish are integral components
of the economy could prove devastating to Malindi.

7.5 Fisheries

The impact of sediment deposition on Malindi reef fisheries is difficult
to analyze because marine park regulations prohibit fishing in major por-
tions of the reef (Figure 5). Areas surrounding the two parks are pro-
tected by reserve status but do allow fishing with restrictions. The eco-
nomic importance of Malindi's fisheries is further obscured since no rec-
ord is made of the geographic origin of catches landed at Malindi.
Malindi's marine fishery, like that of most of coastal Kenya, is con-
fined largely to inshore waters and is concentrated on the reef and its
protected inner waters. In addition, catches from nearby reefs and land-
ings of commercial importance from the Ungwana Bay and Lamu areas pass
through Malindi to take advantage of ground transportation links to Mom-
basa. While bottom-dwelling species such as snappers, grunts, and parrot
fish predominate in quantity, the more economically important species

landed in Malindi include spiny lobsters, prawns and crabs.

489

Based on various earlier reef fishery studies along the Kenya Coast,
Gulland (1979) estimated the current catch from northern Kenya reefs to be
approximately 4.9 tons/km2. Treating his data as if they were catch esti-
mates in different stages of development from the same fishery, and using
available effort and intensity data, he concluded that maximum sustainable
yield from coral reefs along this portion of the coast was approximately 5
tons/km2. This falls in the upper range which Stevenson and Marshall
(1974) derived from analysis of harvests from reef fisheries from sites
including Bermuda, Jamaica, Mauritius and Lamo Trek Atoll. To put these
figures in perspective, harvest from the Georges Bank area, one of North
America's richest fish grounds, generally falls below 5 tons/km2 (Clarke,
1946). Though we have no specific catch information for Malindi's reefs,
we assume that at least where the reefs are still healthy catches are on

this order.

Using the yield figures cited above, Smith (1978) calculated that the
annual potential harvest of the world's reef fishery could be approximate-
ly 2.7 million tons. Marshall (1979) pointed out that potential yields of
such magnitude are especially significant since reefs occur in areas where
the need for food is greatest. They are accessible to small-scale fisher-
men and often remain the exclusive domain of the small operators. While
we cannot demonstrate the specific economic importance of Malindi's reef
fisheries, Marshall's description appears to be applicable to northern

Kenya.

For Malindi, the question remains, however, whether reef die-off as-
sociated with sedimentation (or other agents) is specifically and signifi-
cantly affecting fish yield. While no adequate series data exist for
Malindi by which comparative assessments can be made, studies by Barnes
(1966), Chesher (1969) and Brock et al., (1966) indicate that migration of
many elements of the fauna associated with reefs (including fish) usually
is observed after severe reef degradation. Out-migration of fish has an
obvious effect on reef fish standing stock and subsequent fish yields in
the affected area. Such migrations can be especially critical where a
fishing fleet consists of small boats which have limited capacity to fish

distant waters.

490

7.6 Port Development
Malindi's development as a landing center for fish to be shipped to Mom-
basa for export and local consumption is presently under way. The exist-
ing pier is being extended at a cost of approximately one million U.S.

dollars. Increased rates of erosion upstream in the catchment could re-
sult in a rate of deposition at Malindi's port exceeding natural removal,
causing bay in-filling. This in turn would prevent deeper draft boats
from reaching the pier, thus negating the advantages of pier extension.
Due to the history of harbor siltation in Malindi, there have been
several attempts at finding solutions. In 1969, at the invitation of the
Ministry of Tourism and Wildlife, a French consulting group (SOGREAH) was
requested to identify an ideal site in Malindi to build a harbor for pro-
motion of fishing and recreational boating activities. In their prelimin-
ary study the consultants proposed that such a harbor was feasible. They
recommended that it be protected by a breakwater designed to create a
north-flowing current driven by breaking waves near the Pillar Reef area.
The purpose of this artificially created current was to create a silt-free

harbor.

In 1970, Delft Hydraulics Laboratory of The Netherlands carried out
field measurements and evaluated the French proposal. Delft concluded
there were only two viable alternative approaches to the siltation prob-
lem: deal with it at its upriver sources, or invest in a large-scale en-
gineering project designed to direct the incoming silt away from the
coastal areas. Delft rejected the former for the following reasons:
0 A long period of time would be required before obtaining tangible

results.

0 There would be high associated costs.
* Ot might cause reduction of sand supplied to beaches from upland
sources, threatening their stability.
* It would not be efficient in actually stopping siltation.
in examining options under the large-scale engineering approach,

Delft considered:

0 Diverting the lower course of the Sabaki toward the next bay north
(Formosa Bay).

491

0 Construction of a retaining wall in the bay of Malindi to direct
river discharge beyond the influence of coastai currents.

4) Creation of an artifically induced northern current off Pillar
Reef, similar to the SOGREAH proposal.
In February 1974, the Minister of Finance and Planning created the
National Committee on Sabaki River/Malindi Bay Siltation, composed of an

ad hoc group of scientists charged to examine problems caused by siltation
of the river and propose recommendations for their alleviation. They in
turn created a,subcommittee to review the SOGREAH and Delft proposals and

make comments and recommendations, as necessary.
The subcommittee's report questioned the objectives of the harbor de-
velopment project and proposed that a complete investigation of the coast-
al currents and sand transport regimes be made before making any deci-

sions.

In November 1974 the full committee issued its report which recom-

mended that:

� "Downstream" solutions--those focused on the coast--should be re-

jected as too costly.

� Soil conservation measures should be taken at the source to solve

the problem, e.g. one project achieved concrete results in reducing
erosion from the Tana River catchment after only 12 months.
� Government should estabish a silt monitoring unit for sampling

river waters.

� A marine research program should be initiated in the Malindi area
to focus on socio-economic aspects of development of the bay, de-
velopment of the bay's fishery potential, and the geology and ecol-
ogy of Malindi's reefs.

492

8. SOLUTIONS
The Sabaki Committee's central conclusion--that the long-term solution to
Malindi's sediment probem must be dealt with at its source--appears sound
for the following reasons. (1) Addressing the cause of Malindi's problems
rather than its effects coincides with the national government priority of
reducing declining land productivity attributed to improper land use. The
coincidence of these objectives provides the incentive to pool resources
and develop a coordinated approach to seeking a common solution. (2) The
technical arguments for construction of a large-scale coastal work pro-
vides no real guarantee that the effects of sediment can be mitigated.
Further, it is not a dynamic response, failing to account for future
changes in sediment loads and their underlying causes. (3) Finally, the
validity of the downstream solution must be questioned in the larger con-
text of other present and future upstream-downstream conflicts. In the
absence of a comprehensive management framework, the inhabitants of the
coastal portion of a catchment will always be vulnerable to the actions of
upland residents. The resources diverted to address an endless series of
impacts with upland roots could be more effectively used toward developing

a coherent, political, legal, and institutional response oriented toward
conflict resolution and preventive measures.
Several studies previously cited in this paper support this conclu-
sion. Ferguson Wood and Johannes (1975) reviewed the literature address-
ing the effects of erosion and sedimentation on coral reefs and concluded

that marine scientists themselves have no means to counter the effects of

bad land management upstream caused by pressures of population growth and
land-use intensification in developing countries. Odum (1982) addressed
this specific issue as it applies to marine fisheries. Noting that many
seashore fish species pass critical stages of their life cycle in coastal
and estuarine areas, he concluded that the optimum management solution is
to protect the total range of fish habitat. Sound management of this
area, defined by the salinity gradient, protects the fish species and
their coastal habitats and livelihood systems which the resource base sup-

ports.
For East Africa, Finn (1982) cites several sets of examples of coast-

al problems caused by external or upstream sources. Some of these are

493

tourist issues similar to those described for Kenya (Madagascar): in
creased coastal flooding (Rufiji River, Tanzania), declines in fishery
production (Zambesi River, Zambia), and loss of navigability (Madagascar).
It is clear that sources affecting coastal change can be serious and often
occur outside of the control of the people at the coast. What the Athi
example demonstrates is the need to expand Odum's solution from the

coastal area defined by the presence of saline waters to a catchment-wide

basis. Yet in a recent Kenyan executive policy change, responsibility for
rural development planning has now been shifted away from central govern-

ment to the districts. Increased decentralization unfortunately does not
appear to be the answer to problems which clearly transcend each dis-
trict's political and ministerial boundaries (Kenya, 1982). Thus, amended
existing or new structures complementary to the district jurisdiction must

be called upon.
The primary responsibility of TARDA is to advise the government of

Kenya on all matters affecting areas under its control, including the ap-
portionment of water resources, the development and revision of long-range

development plans, and the coordination of activities of all agencies con-
cerned with the use of the catchment's water (Maritim, 1981). Similar de-
velopment authorities exist for major catchments in other countries in the
region, such as Tanzania and its Rufiji Basin Development Authority
(RUBADA). Similar examples occur in Rwanda, Burundi, Somalia, Uganda,
Ethiopia, and Zimbabwe.
Although these examples appear institutionally attractive, they are
in fact largely advisory in capacity, with budgets often insignificant in

comparison to such traditional ministries as those for agriculture, water,
livestock or industry.

These constraints can be serious deterrents to effectively responding

to problems normally managed by the main ministries. However, the catch-
ment authority can exercise its greatest influence when the basin's devel-

opment is still in planning and design phases, and the makeup of a project

and its levels of commitment are still flexible. Where the catchment has

already undergone large-scale development (such as Kenya's Tana River) the

authority must find a series of informal means to influence remedial ac-

tions in other institutions.

494

In the absence of basin-wide development authorities, alternative in-
stitutional options exist. Examples of these include the creation of
temporary or permanent multi-institutional committees, such as the Sabaki
Committee, or employing an existing planning or environmental secretariat.
In most cases, these commissions not only suffer from the same problems as
the catchment authorities, but they also carry a broader portfolio of re-
sponsibilities which serve to dilute their effectiveness in basin develop-

ment.

Thus far, the most significant step taken to prepare for the Athi
catchment's future development has been a detailed report (Athi River Basin
Pre-Investment Study) prepared for TARDA that identifies development op-
tions which would fit within the government's stated terms of reference for
the basin. These options will subsequently serve as a basis for proposals
generated by TARDA to be presented to various assistance agencies for fund-

ing.
In the Athi example, the four objectives identified by the government
for development of the catchment are to increase food production, provide
opportunities for agricultural land use, expand employment, and develop and

maintain secure water supplies.
Based on these objectives, it was obvious that the focus of planning
activities should be on the development of rainfed agricultural opportuni-
ties and the development of water resources. Regarding the latter, the re-
port concentrates on three principal sectors: water supply, irrigation,
and hydro-power.

The report, while recognizing the need for hydrological monitoring in
the development project, made no provision for determination of coastal im-
pacts in or near Malindi. In fact the only coastal component in the de-
velopment package was to make an assessment of the economic benefits asso-
ciated with reducing or eliminating the siltation at Malindi. The irony in
this approach is that several of the presently proposed activities may
create problems of equal or even greater magnitude than those which pres-
ently exist in Malindi.

The sources of these potential problems include reduction of nutrient
inputs and charges in the hydrologic regime (Munyu dam) and polluted ir-
rigation run-off (Kibwezi irrigation scheme). Rather than fund a cost-

495

benefit analysis of sediment mitigation options it would be preferable to
conduct a resource inventory and study of the bay's dynamics as, a precur-
sory step to project implementation in order to assess implications of the
projected changes as they might affect the coast. The study should be con-
ducted over a period of at least a year, making provision for possible
follow-up activities (e.g., monitoring studies). Mapping of coastal and
nearshore marine communities should be made a priority, giving particular
attention to the location and description of environmentally stressed com-
munities. Current and water quality monitoring studies are the keys to
understanding the bay's dynamics and the determination of effect and extent
of sediment (and other potentially harmful substances) on the area's marine
communities. In Kenya, the institution most competent to conduct such a

survey is the Kenya Marine and Fisheries Research Institute.

TARDA in this situation is in an excellent position to influence the
process by providing additional guidelines which should call directly for
these types of evaluations. TARDA can also call for additional studies to
examine critical areas in the watershed which may be affected (not always
negatively) by potential developments. Finally, TARDA is in the position
to influence other government agencies to re-direct their own resources to

problem areas within the catchment that directly threaten the success of
the project's activities.

496

9. LESSONS LEARNED

The physical processes which characterize an undisturbed river catchment--
and the coastal area near the river's mouth--represent a steady-state con-
dition which has evolved over geological time. Human activities in the
uplands can disturb this steady state and result in significant changes

downstream and in coastal areas as these latter systems try to readjust.
While erosion, transportation and deposition of sediment in the Athi
catchment are in fact natural processes, the evidence is clear that land-
use practices in upland areas of the basin have accelerated soil loss

rates. The increased volume of sediment carried down river has resulted

in changes in coastal land form and ultimately contributed to reef die-
off. Other proposed activities in the Athi catchment which could further
disrupt the steady state include water diversion, extraction and impound-

ment schemes.

Upland discharges of urban and industrial wastes can have significant
effects on coastal communities. Even though precise data are lacking for
the Athi catchment, the location of Nairobi and other industrial areas in

the upper portion of the basin is reason for concern about possible trans-
port of industrial and urban pollutants to the coast.
Economic costs associated with coastal changes attributable to upland
land-use activities can be significant. Dirty, unattractive beaches,
sediment-laden waters, and degradation of the marine parks and reserves
appear to have played important roles in the decline of the Malindi area's

tourist industry. Increased sediment loads have also created a need for
pre-sedimentation tanks to protect and purify Malindi's water supply.
Other less easily documented changes with potentially high economic costs
include increased flooding frequencies and rapid bay in-filling. From a
positive perspective, expanding beaches in the Malindi area provide an
added buffer against offshore storms and offer additional non-beach

recreational development opportunities.
Absence of baseline information throughout a river catchment area
prevents later comparisons to identify trends in resource status. Despite
an intensive effort to collect data for the purposes of this Athi case

study, the absence of earlier studies or invalid historical data sets made
earlier definition of precise linkages between land use, increased sedi-

497

sediment loads, and reef die-off impossible. This deficiency also pre-
cludes clear identification of trends associated with these linkages.
Due to the complexity and magnitude of the issues involved in catch-
ment land use, solutions--especially after development is already under
way--often prove elusive, expensive, and time-consuming. Despite acknowl-
edgment that Malindi's coastal sedimentation problem extends back to the
1930's, creation of several organizations and committees and contracts
awarded for various alternative solutions, no satisfactory resolution of

the problem has yet been achieved.
Resolutions to downstream and coastal problems can be directed either
at the upland sources or coastal manifestations. Of the two alternatives,

the former is far more logical and appears to have the greater possibility
for success, though initial costs may be high. The Sabaki Committee ac-
knowledged the difficulty and expense of reducing erosion at its upland
source, yet also concluded applying coastal solutions was even more expen-
sive; it's recommendation: that primary attention go to solving the sedi-
mentation problem at its source.

Failure to act on previous recommendations to collect data or under-
take surveys seriously hinders successful project design and future imple-
mentation. Despite the Sabaki Committee's 1973 recommendations to estab-
lish a sediment monitoring unit and to encourage a marine survey of the
area adjacent to the river, follow-up activities were never implemented.
The absence of the survey has resulted in a data base inadequate for the
catchment's pre-investment development study. Poorly monitored erosion
rates make it difficult to predict success for several elements of a pro-
posed watershed development project.
Even catchment development and management projects which purport to
be fully comprehensive may still fail to address coastal and nearshore
marine considerations in their development, design or assessment of im-
pacts. The only coastal component which the Athi catchment pre-investment
study addressed is the proposed determination of costs and benefits asso-
ciated with upland erosion controls with respect to mitigation of coastal

impacts.
Existing institutional arrangements may not be optimal for effective
development and management of an entire catchment. In the Athi example,

498

the institution whose jurisdictional boundaries correspond with the water-
shed is principally advisory; it lacks a mandate to manage the watershed.
The institutions which actually have a mandate and resources to implement
change lack the necessary watershed-wide political jurisdiction. New man-
agement strategies must be developed and implemented to reconcile such jur-

isdictional issues.

499

10. GUIDELINES

Planners and managers of coastal areas vulnerable to the effects of inland
catchment alterations should consider the following actions:
(1) Define the boundaries of the coastal and nearshore marine areas

influenced by catchment processes. These boundaries should specifically

include the zone influenced by fresh water, by river borne pollutants and
terrestrial sediment runoff, making ample allowances for prevailing cur-
rent patterns, seasonality, and other physical factors which influence the

extent of the zone.

(2) Identify in order the critical coastal and marine resources in
the affected area. This process should attempt to address the present and
future socio-economic importance of the resources, the degree to which
they can sustain probable impacts attributable to inland sources and their

present status.
(3) Carry out baseline studies within this zone including resource
surveys, status assessments, and description of the physical environment.
and the processes which shape it. The studies should also assess the

nature and quantity of inputs from inland sources which enter and fnflu-

ence the zone.
(4) Implement a monitorinE program including systematic observations
of "ley" inputs influencing.the zone (such as freshwater flow, suspended
sediment, selected nutrients, selected contaminants, dissolved oxygen).
Periodic visits to vulnerable areas (such as reefs, beaches, seagrass
beds) should also be included to collect the data required for trend anal-
ysis. Where a monitoring program already exists within the catchment,

coastal and marine components should be integrated into the existing work.
(5) once key inputs have been identified, establish the threshold
levels required to maintain the coastal/marine resources and processes
identified above. This can be done through review of existing literature,

visits to comparable sites where such inputs have already been altered,
and establishing in situ experimentation plots and testing programs.
(6) Where harmful inputs entering the coastal area have been ob-
served, identify their source and upstream location(s).. Once this infor-
mation is known, an evaluation of available corrective measures should be
completed and selection made accordingly. Complex large-scale source

problems such as deforestation may limit coastal area management responses

500

to temporary remedial measures directed at the affected coastal area until
the appropriate institutions and resources can be mobilized to address the

underlying causes.
(7) Where mitigation activities at the upstream source are already
under way, consider opportunities to coordinate and complement them through
existing efforts. Mechanical means to control soil loss have made substan-
tial beginnings in upstream areas, especially through the Machakos Inte-
grated Development Project (MIDP). Even though more resources are required
to gain control of soil loss, there are lessons to be learned from small-
scale successful interventions including construction of bench terraces,
cutoff drains, and small check dams as well as through better land manage-
ment such as reforestation, controlled grazing, and improved cultivation.
These activities should be reviewed, and, as appropriate, expanded.
(8) Where possible, consider in,upstream water management the negative
impacts of downstream sedimentation. As new dams and new irrigation
schemes come onto line in the Athi basin, potential soil loss problems
should become a basic consideration in determining water management prac-

tices. Water storage cycles should be geared to restrain soil loss; water

discharge from irrigation schemes should be timed to minimize sedimentation

downstream; small holding dams should be considered to reduce sedimentation

in the river bed itself.

(9) Establish systematic procedures to evaluate coastal implications
of proposed development activities (or other intervention) in the catch-
ment area. One common approach to institutionalize thes e procedures is to
empower an appropriate government agency with the right of review. The
agency should be either a body responsible for coastal affairs or one
which is multi-jurisdictional in nature with a coastal component. In

either case it should possess or have access to technical expertise to
assist in proper evaluation of the proposed activities.
(10) Where key inputs may be altered by development proposals.and
therefore pose a threat to threshold limits of coastal resources, make the
appropriate modifications in development design. Where modification is
precluded, a complete social and economic assessment of costs and benefits
and other techniques should precede final authorization of the development

501

activities, taking into account coastal impacts and considering costs of
foreclosed future opportunities.
(11) Examine appropr ate institutional mechanisms for their capability
to.develop, manage, and monitor catchment-wide activities, including the
coastal and marine components. Where gaps in administrative jurisdiction
occur, appropriate measures should be taken through creation of inter-

agency committees, organization of new administrative units, or related
institutional responses.

502

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506

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508

Case Study Seven

IMPACTS OF RIVER FLOW CHANGES

ON COASTAL ECOSYSTEMS

Sawar Mahmud

SUMMARY

This study reviews pertinent literature documenting the damages
caused by human and natural changes in the freshwater flow regimes of
eleven selected rivers of the USA. Within the scope and limitations
of the project, the author has qualitatively summarized the lessons
to be derived from past experience in modifying freshwater flows
upstream on coastal resources. In many instances, these factors were
common to several rivers.

After reviewing the individual rivers, the author tabulated the
lessons learned, with a view to compile a list of hydrologic changes and
the resultant impacts on coastal ecosystems. The main objective of the
study was to prepare a single source of information which could be
consulted and used by water resource planners in the lesser developed
countries (LDCS) of the world in helping them preserve their valuable
coastal resources. It is anticipated that they may be able to find
numerous similarities betweeen the rivers in their countries and the
American rivers, which could help them in their future water resources

management plans.

Finally a set of guidelines have been proposed, briefly outlining
how the managers in the LDCs might be able to extrapolate data from the
American rivers/estuarine systems to address and solve their coastal
zone problems, which may be similar to those found in some of the American
rivers. It might be appropriate to conduct further studies to make
a comparative analysis between specific rivers in the developed nations
and similar river systems in a selected LDC, to demonstrate the value
of such an approach. It is I)Llic-Vcd that th@ of simulation and
extrapolation techniques can be of considerable value in filling data gaps
that may exist in hydrologic and ecological information readily
available to LDC managers and planners.

512

1. INTRODUCTION

1.1 General Background and Justification

"WATER IS THE BASIS OF ALL LIFE. . ." (The Holy Quran). This
simple yet potent message from the Islamic Scriptures reminds humankind
of the fundamental role of freshwater in all forms of life. The steady
expansion of the world's population and the ever-increasing demand on
limited supplies of available freshwater make it imperative to
consider the downstream impacts of upstream hydrologic regime modifi-
cations. This concern is especially significant where rapid development
and population growth occur simultaneously--particularly in most of the
developing nations of the world.
In the technologically advanced nations there is an emerging consen-
sus of public and scientific opinion that the effects of upstream fresh-
water modifications on the downstream estuarine ecosystems are of consider-
able significance. Scientists throughout this country have spent decades
in documenting the changes of freshwater inflows into the coastal regions
and the resultant deterioration in estuarine ecosystems.
This paper presents the results of a literature review on the effects
of inland river modifications on coastal ecosystems, and suggests how the
lessons learned from the research on selected American rivers may be used
to help develop freshwater management strategies in developing nations.
Water resources managers in most developing nations, facing increased
demands for freshwater supplies, are often compelled to divert significant
volumes of freshwater to meet urgent agricultural, urban and industrial
development needs. They rarely have the time, technical or financial
resources to study the long-range consequences of their actions on the
delicate balance of the coastal ecosystems. Many of them believed that
freshwater discharges into the saline oceans were an enormous waste of a
valuable resource which could be more beneficially utilized to meet the
essential needs of the human race. Thus, in order to meet their immediate
needs, they neglected to consider the long-range detrimental consequences
of such inland water development activities.

The complex relationships between the nutrient cycles and food webs
operating in estuaries and their importance to humans has now been

513

recognized by many analysts and the need to protect coastal zone environments
has gained impetus. Planners now realize that comprehensive environmental
considerations must form an integral part in the overall planning and imple-
mentation of water resources development. Research indicates that seemingly
innocent human alterations of river systems, combined with unusual chains of
natural events, have often generated complex problems of varying degree and
magnitude. Since the mid-1960's numerous studies have been completed in
various degrees of detail on several U.S. rivers; yet for manil rivers we lack
essential information. Figure 1 (Water Resources Council, 197 6) clearly shows
that under severe drought conditions total water demand exceeds available supp'
in over 95% of the continental USA. (Second National Water Assessment)

This study has documented two prevalent research approaches. One group
of researchers has evaluated the physical and chemical changes brought
about by inland freshwater modification while a second group of researchers
focused attention on biotic degradation observed in different estuarine
habitats. Yet it is not alwasy easy to accurately correlate the impact of
any specific hydrologic modification to a particular coastal zone degrada-
tion problem. Past research indicates that a balanced intermingling of
freshwater and saline ocean water is essential to maintain a high level of
estuarine productivity. Figure 2 shows the general relation between coastal
zone productivity of freshwater inflow from river systems.

1.2 Brief Historical Perspective on the Role of Freshwater Inflow to
Estuaries

The essential role of freshwater inflow to estuarine ecosystems has
been well documented in numerous studies published by several eminent
scientists (Benson, 1981; Snedaker, 1977; Rauschuber, 1981; Odum, 1974)
and many others.
Benson (1981) projects that:
Over 55% of the United States' commercial fish and shell-
fish catch is dependent on estuaries for spawning and
nursery functions, but these estuaries cannot function
ecologically without an adequate volume, seasonal inflow,
and high quality of freshwater from inland rivers.
Major inland development projects such as the construction of dams,
reservoirs, levees, dredged navigation channels, freshwater diversions for
agricultural, industrial and urban development, as well as storm water and
sewage effluent disposal systems, all se,em to contribute to coastal ecosystem
disturbances of different types and magnitude.

514

94 3

D6
... ...........
... .... . ..... ji:;:::::.Z.:-
X

..........X
. . . . . . . . . .
.......... ......
X
:::22

W
t

.........
.... ..... 99

SOX
Total wate
.. .. ...... X. -A demand a
.:-N 7.
supply.

4:3

X.:

0 3r '100 Soo M,Ie5

Figure 1. Map of the U.S.A. depicting the areas in which the 1975 water demand ex-
ceeded available dry year surface water supply. Figures indicate percentages.
(Source: Water Resources Council-Second National Water Assessment, 1976)

ESTUARINE TIDAL WIND
AREA PLIIUDE

WATER

MIXING
POST LARVAE

AREA OF A
"A' .1
@:..A.
HA TAT ON a

SEDIMENT

PRODUCTI
BOTTOM AREA
0XYGEN

OAR SH
E_n IAND 0.", Pt It No. ^1 'ra-f ,04
I- fs
0" DET@ITU MICRO RENIHOS BIOMASS IOMASS
SUN "Ag$" VEG. ORGAN-
ISMS

SUN PHYTO_
Pt ANKT

SEA-
SUN GRASSES

ESTUARY OFFS140HE

FigUre 2. Energy-flow diagram showing pathways of potential effects of river
inflows on production of fishery stocks. (Source: Odurn and Odum, 1976)

Benson (1981) has stated that the problems of the Atlantic estuarine
system are basically functions of reduced water quality, increased runoff
and in some cases lower flow quantities. On the Pacific Coast, drastic re-
duction in both flow quantities and water quality are the major problems,
while estuaries along the Gulf of Mexico have shown serious losses of pro-
ductivity due to decreases of freshwater quantities and navigation channel

diversions.

The Fish and Wildlife Service (Office of Biological Sciences), the
National Coastal Ecosystem Team, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, the Conser-
vation Foundation, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA),
along with analysts from various academic institutions,have published exten-
sive literature on this subject.
Snedaker et al. (1977) have published a "Bibliography on the Role of
Freshwater in Estuarine Ecosystems," and Hopkins (1973) prepared an extensive
work for the Corps of Engineers entitled "Annotated Bibliography on the Effects
of Salinity and Salinity Changes on Life in Coastal Waters."
The importance of the estuarine ecosystems to the nation's economic
well-being is reflected in a number of federal laws and executive orders
which have been promulgated over the past several years:

Coastal Zone Management Act, 1972
Coastal Zone Management Improvement Act, 1980

Fish and Wildlife Coordination Act

Fishery Conservation and Management Act, 1980
Endangered Species Act, 1973

Marine Mammal Protection Act

9 Marine Protection Research and Sanctuaries Act, 1972
National Environmental Policy Act, 1969
Estuary Protection Act, 1968

National Flood Insurance Act, 1972

Federal Water Pollution Control Act, 1972, 1977

Federal Clean Water Act 1972, 1977
Safe Drinking Water Act, 1974

0 Outer Continental Shelf Lands Act, 1976
Yet despite the number of federal laws, executive orders, and state
regulations, the multifaceted problems faced by the nation's estuarine eco-
systems are being resolved at a painfully slow pace. Clashes between powerful
interested developers and environmentalists are a common occurrence.

517

1.3 Economic Importance of Coastal Ecosystems

In the Proceedings of the National Symposium on Freshwater Inflow to
Estuaries (1981), Ozmore made several key observatio@s on the economic value
of coastal resources along the Gulf Coast.

In 1979, Texas shrimpers landed 41,604,000 pounds . . . worth
$153,115,000 ex-vessel . . . worth about $500,000,000 retail.
Louisiana fishermen . . . ex-vessel value of $115,282,000 or
$345,000,000,final value . . . while the other three Gulf of
Mexico states . . . ex-vessel value of $109,245,000 or
$327,600,000 retail value . . . total landings from the entire
Gulf of Mexico coast was worth boatside of over $377.6 million
or $1,133 billion. Sports fishing alone is capable of genera-
ting expenditures of over $75.2 million annually in the State
of Texas. (Ozmore, p. 7)

The contributions of estuaries to the overall economies of inland regions
underscore the importance of protecting coastal zone resources by main-
taining an acceptable level of freshwater inflow in the estuaries. However,
coastal zone inhabitants have little, if any, political strength to fight
for their share of freshwater, as compared to the powerful inland agri-
cultural, industrial and urban development interests.

Statistics compiled by UNESCO (1974) show that freshwater inflow into
the nation's estuaries have in some cases dropped at the alarmingly
high rate of 62% or more. Declining freshwater inflow is often accom-
panied by a higher input of treated sewage flows through the river basins.
Increased salinity levels often reach far inland. Figure 3(from UNESCO,
1974) presents a map showing estimated freshwater flows into the oceans
through the major rivers of the conterminous United States, as of 1970.
The author has developed a conceptual matrix, which could be refined

and used as a design tool to correlate the impacts of upstream hydro-
logic changes with coastal ecosystem degradation. Table I depicts this
concept which can.be readily modified to reflect the actual conditions
observed in any drainage basin or river system. This matrix (or a similar
tabulation) may help coastal zone resources managers and identify and
address the negative impacts of inland freshwater flow modifications fairly
expeditously. On the basis of such an analytical review, water resources
managers can develop optimal strategies to ensure a better balance of inland
and coastal freshwater distribution and usage.

518

APPROXIMATE FRESH WATER FLUX DENSITY

1970

MEAN ANNUAL DISCHARGE OF MAJOR RIVERS

PER UNIT OF COASTLINE
M3 S-I Mi-I

41 1 4 5-10 11-20 20-30 50-100 @-IOO

Figure 3. A rough approximation of the flux of freshwater from major rivers along the
coast of the coterminous United States. (Source: UNESCO, 1974.)

Table 1. Conceptual matrix showing correlation between man-made changes in upstream hydrologic regimes
and changes in downstream coastal ecosystems.
F"YUArT6'A1Y UNTERED 105R ZMRVED
YPICAL ACTIONS EFFECTING anges n a n ty n- Pollution
RESHUXTER FLOw MoDIFICA- sediment - thermal Cron sea L saline nutrient-level Inor anic I-s- I
IONS tion radiants modification Hot& Other
.URBAN DEVELOPMENT
"_ a f a r-e 'at-a-t I-o-F-T o r -Had Lo-Ked Med-111. Lo-Med
homes. highways. High Lo-Hed Lo-Med LO
roads, etc.
� Con Lol LO Lo
P;umptive water
au ly (dams. LO-Med Lo-Med High Had-Hi
rose.rvoirs) Algal
� Sown treatment Lo-Mad Lo-Med Lo-Med High Mod-Ili Lo-Mod Med-111. Blooms
and 51sposal
Biots
� Flood control LO-Med Lo-Med Med-11i Lo-lied Lo LO Lo Changes
structures

Z.AGRtCULTURE
9 ores clearing
& land grading. Iligh Lo-Med Lo-Hed Lo-Med Lo-Med Lo-Had Lo-Med
roads. etc.
a Pesticides Lo-Med Mod-Hi Lo-Med Mad-111, Lo-Med Lo-Med Lo-Med
Un fertilizers
K) -
0 a Airicultural wastes Lo, Lo-Med Lo-Med High Med-Hi Med-Hi Lo
d sposal
Lo-Med Med-Hi High Mod-Hi Hed-Hi Lo-Iled Lo
0 Irrigation Demands
3.INDUSTRY River
W-T-ransportation Med-Hi Lo-Med Med-Hi Ned-Hi Lo-Med Lo-Med Lo course
changes
-Navigation

-Bridges. dams.
other diversions Lo-Med Lo-Med Med-Ni Lo-Med Lo Lo Lo Shoals
sandbars
of water --potential
a Manufacturing toxicity
-Chemical Lo Med-Hi Nigh Mad-Hi Lo-Med High High Incressig
-Power plants Lo Med-111. High Mod-Hi Lo-Med Lo Lo-Med
-Raw mat'lo recov. Med-HL Lo-Med Low Lo-Hed Lo-Med fled-HL Med-HL
-Fossil fuels: Lo Lo-Med Lo-Med Lo-Med Had-Ili Lo-Mcd Lo
coal. oil & gas

Note: The severity of ecologic impacts is widely varible and subject to site-specific parameters.

1.4 Methods of Investigation and Analyses

The original goal of this study was to compile an annotated
bibliography of relevant literature describing the impacts of diminished
freshwater inflows on coastal ecosystems. This goal was changed to develop
a more objective and focussed review of eleven selected American rivers.
The rivers selected for the study represent a variety of coastal

ecology problems. An attempt was made to identify resource conflicts
and management issues and to determine the relevance of adapting U.S.
problem-solving techniques to river systems in lesser developed nations.
Time and fiscal constraints of the study severely limited the
scope and extent of the analysis, and ruled out the possibility of in-
vestigating major river systems or complex drainage basins. Thus, a
brief and expedited review was conducted on the eleven rivers for the

case study.
During the course of the investigations, it was observed that the
following major categories of research were documented in the mass of
literature identified through library and computer searches:

� Reports emphasizing purely hydrologic and hydraulic engineering
elements of different river systems and estuarine environments.
� Articles documenting the impact of freshwater inflow modifications
on the variations in the occurrence or depletion of specific

coastal resources.

� Detailed statistical, mathematical or computer-aided analyses
of physical and chemical changes observed at different coastal

resources.

� Papers addressing the impacts of upstream freshwater flow changes
on coastal ecosystems, but generally without concentrating on
specific regions or species.
The literature review revealed that diverse groups of researchers
seem to approach estuarine problem-issues with considerably different
perspectives. Federal agencies (such as the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers
or the USDA Soil Conservation Service), local government agencies
(such as county planning offices), and private industrial/commercial groups

521

(mining, commercial or urban developers) tend to view their upstream
freshwater usage as having minimal downstream coastal zone impacts. Such
inland and upriver interests seem to restrict their environmental impact
assessments to only the immediate vicinity of their projects with
little regard to the cumulative effects of several such projects on down-

stream coastal environs.

Inhabitants of the coastal regions, together with serious conser-
vationists,often consider that inland freshwater users are responsible
for most of the disastrous, long-term degradation of their valuable and
fragile coastal resources. Coastal residents, frustrated by their inability to
influence or moderate some of the upstream freshwater withdrawals made
by many inland water developers, feel helpless and angry.
The key articles referenced in this study were derived from a select
group of sources. It was not feasible to review the large number
of publications dealing with this subject. These include:
� Proceedings of the National SyTposium on Freshwater Inflows to
Estuaries. Volumes 1 and 2, prepared for the National Coastal
Ecosystems Team, Slidell, La., ed. by Ralph D. Cross and Donald L.
Williams of the University of Southern Mississippi, Hattiesburg,
MS, Oct. 1981.
� Coastal Ecologic Systems of the United States, Volumes 1-4, ed. by
H.T. Odum, B.J. Copeland, E.A. McMahan, published by The Conserva-
tion Foundation of Washington, D.C., June 1974.
� Freshwater Needs of Fish & Wildlife Resources in the Nueces-Corpus
Christi Bay Area, Texas: A Literature Synthesis by Don E. Henley
and Donald G. Rauschuber, for the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service,
Biological Services Program, March 1981.
� Trinity-San Jacinto Estuary: A StHdy of the Influence of Freshwater
Inflows, by the Texas Department of Water Resources' Staff, April
1981.
� Instream Flow Methodologies for Regional and National Assessments:
Instream Flow Information Paper No. 7, by Keith Bayha of the Cooper-
ative Instream. Flow Group, U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, Fort Collins,
Colo., December 1978.
� Bibliography - Role of Freshwater in Estuarine Ecosystems, by S.
Snedaker et al. University of Miami, Rosenstiel School of Marine
and Atmospheric Science, 1977.

From an original list of 22 U.S. rivers, 11 were chosen that exhibited
coastal zone problems associated with freshwater inflow changes:

522

Name of River Receiving Water Body

Appalachicola River Gulf of Mexico
Atchafalya Bay (Mississippi) Gulf of Mexico
Colorado (Main) River Pacific Ocean

Colorado (Texas) Gulf of Mexico
Nueces River (Neuces Bay) Gulf of Mexico

Pee-Dee (Yadkin) River Atlantic Ocean

Potomac River Atlantic Ocean

Sacra-mento River Pacific Ocean
Santee/Cooper River Atlantic Ocean

Susquehanna River Atlantic Ocean

Trinity River Gulf of Mexico

Relevant papers describing coastal environmental issues pertinent
to each of the river systems were reviewed, and the lessons learned
were derived from the research conducted. Finally, a set of guide-
lines have been formulated to assist water resources developers avoid
or minimize damage to valuable coastal resources.
In concluding this section, the author wishes to record the valuable
assistance provided in the initial stages by Dr. Samuel Snedaker of the
University of Florida, Miami; and Dr. Ray Hicks, Jr., of the University of

West Virginia.

523

2. THE EFFECTS OF FLOW CHANGES IN SELECTED RIVERS ON COASTAL ECOSYSTEMS

The eleven rivers selected for this study have the following

characteristics.

Five of the river systems discharge into the Gulf of Mexico,

and their coastal zones are generally influenced by temperate
to tropical climatic conditions.
Four of the rivers discharge into the Atlantic Ocean, mainly
associated with somewhat cooler temperature climatic environs.
o Of the two rivers discharging into the Pacific Ocean, the Sacramento

River flows through the San Francisco Bay and Delta in the cooler
northern latitudes, while the Colorado River flows through the
Gulf of California further south, into a warmer aquatic environ-

ment.

As a matter of convenience, the sequence of discussions is
presented in accordance with the principal receiving bodies rather than
with respect to the alphabetical listing of the rivers. Hence, the Gulf
Coast rivers and estuaries are discussed first, and this is followed by
discussions of the rivers flowing into the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans.

2.1 The Apalachicola River and Bay System

Situated in the western part of Florida, the Apalachicola River forms
the principal drainage system draining the watersheds of the Chattahoochee
River and Fli@t River systems of Alabama and Georgia, below Lake Seminole
and Woodruff Dam, before emptying into the Gulf of Mexico.
Figure 4 (NOAA, Coastal Zone Management,1979) depicts the general
watershed of the combined Chattahoochee, Flint and Apalachicola Rivers
draining into the Apalachicola Bay.
Browder and Moore (1981) have shown that the Apalachicola Bay system
is one of the most productive estuaries in Florida and contributes sub-
stantially to the economy of Franklin County. It supports a large rec-
reational fishing industry and a commercial fishery for oysters, shrimp,
blue crabs, and several fish species. The oyster industry alone is respon-
sible for 50 percent of county income (Boynton et al., 1977).

524

N.C.

ALA
PL FL 0
J* -ftr Ve

ATLANTA

IL @e

cowmaus

Loft

016 go- so

_j@LA
FLA "NSA=

Apalach1cold Say

Figure 4. General location of Apalachicola, Flint and Chattahoochee
River Basin. (Source: NOAA, 1979.)

525

2
The Apalachicola estuary is a shallow, bar-built system of 549 km
which receives freshwater runoff from a 7,530 kin 2 watershed in Florida,
Georgia, and Alabama. Average depth of the estuarine system at mean low
tide is 2.7 m. The usual tidal range is 0.5 to 0.7 m. The Apalachicola
River, with an average flow rate of 540.7 m 3 Is, provides the major input.
Local runoff from 1,295 km 2 of swampland also influences the estuary
(Livingston et al., 1974).
The bay is characterized by low light penetration, considerable oyster
bar development, and low primary productivity from bottom-living plants
(Livingston et al., 1978). Although Livingston et al.(1978) reported that
there is usually little vertical or horizontal variation in temperature,
this bay does stratify, and tongues of highly saline water often extend
into the bay along the bottom through passes (Livingston et al. 1974).
Apalachicola Bay is receiving runoff from a dammed river. The Columbia
and Bartlett Ferry dams on the Chattahoochee River are used for generating
hydroelectric power. Cattle ranching and forest management activities such
as clearcutting, ditching, diking, and road construction also have affected
freshwater inputs. Studies have been made of the long-term and short-term
dynamics of chemical and biological factors in the bay and the effects of
watershed alterations. Meeter et al. (1979) determined that upriver altera-
tions have thus far not substantially altered long-term river flow patterns
but have affected short-term flow patterns, particularly during periods of
low flow. Until now, the dams have had little impact on the pattern of flow
(Boynton, 1975). However, further changes in the periodicity of the flows
into the Apalachicola estuary could result in significant degradation of the
coastal ecosystem.
Lowered water quality has resulted from the cattle and forestry opera-
tions also. Effects of the forestry operations in Tate's Hell Swamp are
particularly well documented (Livingston and Duncan, 1979). Each aspect of the
clearcutting jobs tended to increase the rate of response of local runoff to rL
fall, which increased the amplitude and decreased the duration of runoff
events. This caused abrupt changes in the levels of salinity and nutrients in
the vicinity of the swamp drainage. Sudden increases in water color and
decreases in both dissolved oxygen and pH in upper portions of the bay were
associated with periods of high runoff from the altered swamp. These events
coincided with periods when the upper bay is utilized as a nursery ground
by fish and invertebrates. Runoff from clearcut areas significantly reduces

526

the water quality, and, in turn reduces the number and biomass of white shrimp
in upper portions of the bay. Dissolved oxygen and pH levels increased in
clearcut areas of the swamp after regrowth of a covering vegetation, suggesting
that swamp vegetation can offset the changes in the water quality of the river
(Livingston and Duncan, 1979).
Livingston (1981) has expressed concern regarding proposed major fresh-
water diversions upstream from the Chattahoochee River to meet the increasing
demands of the rapidly expanding Atlanta Metropolitan region. Such diversions
exceed several millions of gallons per day. He notes that the Apalachicola
Bay, (the largest federally designated estuarine sanctuary in the nation),
can be easily damaged if significant alterations to the upstream hydrologic
regime are not rigidly controlled and existing freshwater inflow into the
system is not carefully balanced.

2.1.1 Lessons Learned

� Marshes, swamps, lagoons, embayments, deltas and other related

coastal physiographic features need to be protected from degradation
or dimishing freshwater inflows. These areas provide the breeding,
hatching, spawning, nursing and feeding grounds for a wide variety

of coastal organisms. Such rich faunal and vegetal resources are
the prime source of considerable economic and social benefits to large

human settlements established along the entire length of a river and

its principal tributaries.
� One promising mechanism to ensure the continued protection of most
coastal ecosystems is by the establishment of national sanctuaries.

Such efforts can be enhanced by the combined efforts of local, state,
and national authorities, supported by widespread public participation.

Strict enforcement of environmental and water resources standards

and regulations helps preserve such sanctuaries.
� Interregional coordination and integrated planning is essential to
prevent upstream water diversions. Detailed and thorough analysis
of the downstream and coastal zone impacts likely to be caused by
such diversions is essential. Decisions cannot be based on just the

localized environmental assessments limited to the immediate

527

surroundings of proposed projects.
9 The Apalachicola Basin sanctuary is one of the best examples
of the successful cooperation of widely divergent interests
such as developers and engineers on the one hand, and conser-
vationists, the general public and coastal zone inhabitants
on the other hand. It should be adapted by other coastal

states all over the world.

2.2 The Atchafalaya River and Atchafalaya Bay

The Atch@Lfalaya River, a major offshoot from the Mississippi River,
flows through Louisiana into the Gulf of 11exico through a complex system
of marsh and swampland. It has undergone considerable changes over the
past 140 years. Figure 5 depicts the regional setting of the Atchafalaya
Bay. Cunningham (1981) has documented the above water-level land development,
environmental implications and resource potential of the Atchafalaya delta.

He notes:

The Atchafalaya River was a distributary of the Mississippi
as far back as the 1500s (Fisk, 1952). During the middle and
late 1800s, flow from the Mississippi and Red Rivers into the
Atchafalaya was increased by the removal of a natural log jam and
dredging of a navigational channel. (Cunningham, 1981)
Tuttle and Combe (1981) have detailed the formation of this navi-

gation channel as follows:
In 1831 Captain Shreve made a cutoff in the Mississippi River
across the neck of Turnbull Island (to aid navigation) which
lef t the mouth of the Red River and the head of the Atchaf alaya
River in an oxbow lake with a two-way connection to the Mississippi
River. The Atchafalaya, at this time, was an ineffective distributary
of the Mississippi, choked by a massive log jam covering 20 miles
of its length. A few years after Shreve's cutoff, local interest
and later the State of Louisiana undertook removal of the raft (log jam)
for the purpose of developing navigation on the Atchafalaya. Their
efforts were eventually successful and the Atchafalaya was reportedly
open by 1855 (Latimer, 1951). Because of a distinct gradient advan-
tage, the Atchafalaya enlarged rapidly near its mouth causing lands
previously exempt from overflow to be submerged annually by the
increasing volume of water from above.
Cunningham further reports that:
By the mid-1900s a natural channel had become so well established
through the diversion that the volume of flow increased at an
alarming rate. Total capture of Mississippi River flow seemed

528

4@1

West Cote
Blanche Bay

East Cote X
Blanchi
Marsh. island Bay

Fb,w
5 10 Ifi 20 M,
Ile

0 5 10 15 20 K@

Gulf
O'f

610

Figure 5. Regional Setting of Atchafalaya Bay
(Source: Cunningham, 1981)

529

inevitable because of the Atchafalaya's shorter route to the Gulf
of Mexico and its decided gradient advantage. Old River control
structure, built in 1963, was designed to prevent this possibility
by limiting the diversion into the Atchafalaya to approximately
30 percent of the flow of the Mississippi.
Because the lower course of the Atchafalaya River contained a net-
work of lakes and swamp catchment basins, much of the sediment load
carried by the increasing flow was deposited in these areas before
it reached Atchafalaya Bay.
By the early 1950s sedimentation on the coast produced noticeable
effects. During the 1950s and 1960s silts and clays transported to
the coast were deposited near the mouths of the outlets in the bay. By
the early 1970s a thick platform of silty clay deposits covered not only
Atchafalaya Bay, but adjacent offshore areas. An extraordinary increase
in the amount of sand, scoured from the basin and transported to the bay,
was noted during the period 1973-1977 (Roberts et al., 1980).
The heavy discharge of the Mississippi through the Atchafalaya River
system inevitably resulted in heavy sedimentation, shoaling, and
the formation of a new deltaic formation which gradually extended out
into the Gulf of Mexico. This phenomenon was accompanied by a drastic
change in the vegetation and faunal communities originally associated with
the Atchafalaya Bay.

Figure 6 shows the relationship between the Atchafalaya River
and the proposed Atchafalaya navigation project. Figure 7 presents a'
comparison of the size and shape of the Atchafalaya delta with other small

new deltas of Texas.
Natural calamities such as the unusually heavy' floods of 1973 and 1975
have also resulted in serious impacts on the original species, especially
shellfish and finfish, in the region. The surging fresh floodwaters have
had appreciable impacts on the salinities, temperatures and fauna in the bay.
Hoese (1981) has discussed the effects of heavy flooding on the Atchafalaya
Bay systems. His research indicates that the temperature differences,
accompanied by fluctuations of the nutrient levels caused by floods, have a
significant impact on the fauna. Other analysts have indicated that during
prolonged periods of freshwater intrusions, marine species are often rapidly
replaced by species adapted to freshwater conditions. These organisms in
turn are replaced by saltwater species during times of drought or prolonged
freshwater inflow decreases. Cyclic flow variations are a natural feature

530

OLD Am" M DRGAN INY,
CONTROL STRUCTURE

X
OWER@
@ATCHAFA"YA RIVER

Bayou Chen*--.
8660-Bleck
N Channel
-in av,
-4
r

ZZ,

F
ATCHA.

40 !t - -

10 b.
WETLANDS

ALLUVIAL RIDGE$

Figure 6. Atchafalaya River Basin and Lower Atchafalaya River navigation
project. (Source: van Beck and Meyer-Arendt, 1981.)

531

S..

6 Stat. mi.
4
0 2

0 2 4 6 8 10 Km.
TRINITY
DELTA

BAPTISTE COLLETTE CREVASSE

ATCHAFALAYA DELTA

. . . . . . . . . .

GUADALUPE DELTA
COLORADO DELTA

MATAGORDA
PENINSULA
I

Figure 7. Comparison of the size and shape of the Atchafalaya Delta
& do-

and other small modern deltas from the Texas coast, showing the
result of rapid accretion. (Source: Cunningham, 1981.)

532

of coastal systems, but serious perturbations of freshwater flow regimes
by hiiman activities can have long-lasting detrimental effects.

2.2.1 I.essons Learned

9 Even the most simple activity, such as the removal of a naturally
occurring log jam can initiate far-reaching effects on the magnitude
and direction of freshwater flows, and change entire coastal eco-
systems and deltaic morphologic characteristics. More complex
changes, such as flood control levees, dikes, etc., may increase
channel scouring on the one hand along with enhanced deltaic
deposition offshore on the other.
e overabundant inflows from major flood events or surge releases
from dams cause appreciable fluctuations in coastal salinity
and temperature ranges, which can be destructive to nearshore
biota if prolonged at times when such regions are essential to the
nursery and hatchery needs of various species.
a Comprehensive and integrated regional basinwide water resources
management planning and implementation, together with constant
monitoring, can help prevent unwanted damage to coastal ecosystems.
State and local authorities appear to be working with conservationists
to maintain the status quo of this coastal ecosystem.

2.3 The Colorado River, Texas

Figure 8 depicts the general relationship and geographic location
of the Colorado River and two other Texas rivers and estuaries emptying

into the Gulf of Mexico.

The Colorado River flows in a southerly direction, almost dividing
the state in two parts, and after flowing past Austin, it forms an
integral part of the Matagorda Bay System (Figure 9).

533

L...

T g a A 8 0-
Harris Co.
S=

06'm-

esf.0,y
.-EVO -So, J44 /W%
#01.0

Lovoco-rres'palocios astuary
/RFFVG.0 0
Guodolupe asluory

SAN PATPIC10 Wission-Aronsas estmerr

"O'C's-
IL'IlEOr

0 so 20 JOS M@"

0 Is

Laguna modre estuarr

-ILL.Cl

TEXAS

MEXICO

Figure 8: Location of the Texas coast estuaries. (Source: Texas
Department of Water Resources, 1981.)

534

0
BAY CITY
'--,I "NE Y
PALMETTO BEND RESERVOIR
(LAKE TEXANA)

0
*4

G
LAVAC MATAGORDA
BAY

-TIGER
ISLAN
CHA NEL.-
COLORADO RIVER
MOUTH

MATAGORDA
co
SHIP CHANNEL

'PASS CAVALLO
di

5 0 5 To

SCALI OF MILSS

Figure 9. Location of the Colorado River in relation to Matagorda Bay.
(Source: Sheffield and Walton, 1981.)

535

this coastal system has been the subject of extensive studies and
prolonged controversy over changes proposed to be made at the mouth
of the Colorado River. Its importance is apparent from the fact
that the Matagorda Bay system is ranked third among the Texas bays
in commercial value. Sheffield and Walton (1981) observe:

Before 1929, the Colorado River flowed directly into Matagorda
Bay near the town of Matagorda, Texas (Texas Department of
Water Resources, 1978b). Removal of a large natural log jam
above the town by dynamiting resulted in sudden downstream
transport of great quantities of naturally trapped silt
and subsequent unnatural, rapid formation of the present
delta (Bouma and Bryant, 1967). Productive bay bottom was
inundated, highly productive oyster reefs destroyed, and the
eastward arm of Matagorda Bay was divided into two separate
water bodies. The delta was channelized and Matagorda Peninsula
breached so that the Colorado River was diverted from the bay,
through the delta channel, directly into the Gulf of Mexico.
The delta, about 4,000 acres, divided Matagorda Bay into what are
now known as East Matagorda Bay and West Matagorda Bay.

The gradual development of the Colorado River delta over the past 120
years is shown in Figure 10.
Freshwater and nutrients formerly entering Matagorda Bay now
pass directly to the Gulf of Mexico. The Colorado River delta marshes
are now not subject to inundation and flushing by Colorado River flows
except during extreme hydrological events (Texas Department of Water
Resources, 1978); therefore the value of the delta for nutrient input
to the bay is minimized. Some Colorado River flows now enter West
Matagorda Bay through Tiger Island Cut. Studies by the Texas Department
of Water Resources (1978) suggest that during periods when the mouth of
the Colorado River at the gulf is not plugged by shoaling, 75 percent of
river-borne nitrogen, phosphorus and organic carbon pass directly to the
gulf.

536

18551 1921 1930

19411 1976

Figure 10. Delta development of the Colorado River under the
influence of channelization. (Source: van Beck and Meyer-Arendt,
1981.)

537

DISPOSAL AREA

PHASE I
MATAGORDA
2

...................................

-,.GfviW
./@_NAVIGATION
CHANNEL

DIVERSION
DAM

ION
DIVERSIO
CHANNEL

20 YEAR

50 YEAR
EAST
EAST
BAY k,@-Ns. MATAGORDA
SAY

GULF OF MEXICO

5 miks

1 k-

__J

Figure 11. Proposed mouth of the Colorado River Project. (Source:
Trahan, 1981.)

538

Reservoir development and diversions in the upper Colorado River

Basin have reduced the amount of freshwater and nutrients available

to the bay and altered the salinity regime (Gunter et al., 1973). The
average annual discharge (1899-1936) of the Colorado River at Austin
prior to regulation by upstream reservoirs was 1.964 million acre-
feet but has fallen to 1.5 million acre-feet per year (1937-1977),
following regulation by upstream reservoirs and increased water usage
(U.S. Geological Survey, 1978).
Further drastic changes in the coastal ecosystem are likely to
occur when the proposed "Mouth of the Colorado River Project" is
implemented (Figure 11). Future diversions of inland freshwater flows
from the Colorado River watershed, authorized by the Texas Water
Resources Board, the Texas Water Commission, and the Colorado River

Municipal Water District include:

Fayette Power Plant - 48,000 acre-feet/year
South Texas Nuclear Project - 102,000 acre-feet/year
Metropolitan Austin/Stacy Reservoir - 113,000 acre-feet/year
Palmetto Bend Reservoir - 92,000 acre-feet/year.

All these projects will be implemented after controversial public
hearings and environmental impact statements have been finalized. However,
it appears that the cumulative impact of such freshwater flow alterations
are likely to be very significant and the authors report that more de-
tailed studies over a1onger time-frame would be needed to accurately

predict the effects of such diversions.

2.3.1 Lessons Learned

This brief review of the Colorado River demonstrates that:

* Man-made changes of the upstream hydrologic regime have
seriously affected the Colorado River's estuarine morphology
and biotic systems.
9 Proposed future alterations of the Colorado River flows into
the Matagorda Bay, instead of the current freshwater discharge
directly into the Gulf of Mexico, are likely to create consider-
able ecologic changes and wetlands formation further downstream.

539

Water Resources Managers in LDCs should consider all aspects of
their inland water resources developments, prior to actual planning
and/or implementation of such projects.

2.4 Trinity River and the Trinity-San Jacinto Estuary

In their paper entitled "A New Approach to Determining the Quantitative
Relationship Between Fishery Production and the Flow of Freshwater to Es-
tuaries,"Browder and Moore (1981) state:

The Trinity-San Jacinto Estuary has slightly more than 25%
of the total Texas estuarine area and leads the other estuaries
in harvests of oysters, blue crabs, white and brown shrimp.
Quoting D.C. Cooper and B.J. Copeland (1973), the authors state
that reduction of normal Trinity River flows or addition of in-
dustrial effluents would result in decreased productivity in the
Trinity Bay which is a major nursery ground supporting significant
populations of valuable organisms, and thus would have a strong
negative impact on the fisheries and tourism economics of the
Texas Coast.

Figure 12 shows the geographic relationship between the Trinity-

San Jacinto estuaries and the Galveston Bay. On the following page,
Figure 13depicts the watersheds and relationship of the major drainage
basins contributing inflows into the Trinity-San Jacinto estuary.
The Texas Department of Water Resources (TDWR)(1981) has presented both
historical data as well as computer simulation to document changes in
the hydrologic regime. The report indicates:

The Trinity River Basin with a total drainage area of 17,969
square miles has an average annual runoff in the Trinity
River Basin ranging from 150 acre-feet per square mile in the
headwaters of the West Fork Trinity to over 550 acre-feet per
square mile near the mouth of the Trinity River.

During the severe drought of 1956, the average annual runoff
was less than 60 acre-feet per square mile.

Altogether, 29 major reservoirs are either in existence or under
construction within the Trinity River Basin. The Houston and Galveston
industrial and urban areas account for a large portion of consumptive
water usage not only from the Trinity River Basin, but also from deep
underground aquifers. In fact, over-pumping from such deep aquifers has
resulted in widespread subsidence. Figure 14 depicts the areal extent
and magnitude of subsidence observed by previous researchers.

540

AM IACINrO RIVER
95*00' LAKE ANAHUAC
Cloverleof 'H rRINIr
RIVER

-- ----- Anahuoc

Boyiown
8UFfA 10 BAYO

TRINI r Y 8A Y

Lo Porte

South Houston HOUST01V
SHIP
CHAIM&
ANAHUAC
0 NAII.NAL
WILDLIFE
Cleo, REFUGE
L.Ae Q'k
CD C7 OAl

29*30' 29*30'
Dickinson

'0'
C_
Te.as
r City
LO
M
r
orque

Golveston

chocolole
or

o M.1cs

so@ L.'s
POSS

95,00,

Figure 12. Trinity-San Jacinto Estuary. (Source: Texas Department
of Water Resources, 1981.)

541

7"
W-fR@@WDI

30 60 K,lomele,s

0 30 60 md..

fORWSr

r
-0

TRINITY

TRINITY-
SAN JACINTO
SAN JACINTO

SAN JACINTO-
INDEX MAP BRAZOS

Figure 13. Basins contributing to the Trinity-San Jacinto estuaries.
(Source: Texas Department of Water Resources, 1981.)

542

0GQ

n (D

to t
0 t@

To control the rate of land subsidence limits were placed on deep-aquifer
pumpage, and und erground recharge and reinjection techniques, have been
introduced by state authorities. These measures are offset by increasing
population growth and a proportionate increase in the demand for fresh-

water.

Calculations reported in TDWR (1981) conclude that:
The Trinity River delta is frequently submerged by floods from
the Trinity River. Based upon historical conditions and gauged
streamflow records, freshwater inflow needs for marsh inundation
are estimated and specified at 750 thousand acre-feet in each
of the months of April, May, and October. These volumes cor5es-
pond to flood events with peak daily flow rates of 29,500 ft /sec.

Three scenarios of freshwater inflow needs have been estimated by
TDWR researchers, who have projected the monthly freshwater inflow needs
for the Trinity-San Jacinto estuary for each of three alternatives:

Alternative I (Subsistence): minimization of annual combined inflow
while meeting salinity viability limits and marsh inundation
needs. This would necessitate freshwater inflows totalling
6.85 million acre-feet per year.
Alternative Il (Maintenance of Fisheries Harvests): minimization
of annual combined inflow while providing annual commercial
harvests of red drum, sea trout, shrimp, blue crab, and bay
oysters at levels no less than their mean 1962 through 1976
annual values, satisfying marsh inundation needs, and meeting
viability limits for salinity. This option would require
annual freshwater inflows of 7.19 million acre-feet annually.
Alternative III (Shrimp Harvest Enhancement): maximization of the
annual offshore commercial harvest of shrimp while meeting
salinity limits, satisfying marsh inundation needs, and
utilizing an annual inflow to the estuary at a level no
greater than the combined individual average annual historical
inflows from the contributing river basins. This alternative
calls for a unique seasonally-distributed freshwater inflow
of 7.02 million acre-feet each year.

The report notes that:

A high level of variability in annual freshwater inflow occurs
naturally in the Texas estuaries. The authors recomn.-end that
any estuarine management program should be capable of offsetting
an increase (over historical levels) in the frequency of low
inflows detrimental to the ecosystem and its resident aquatic
organisms.

544

2.4.1 Lessons Learned

� Thorough research is necessary both to determine historical
freshwater needs and to predict inflow needs of major estuarine
systems. Individual river basins must be analyzed in con-
junction with adjacent river basins to gauge the overall
hydrologic regime affecting the entire estuary system. All
too often water resources planners and managers in developing
nations tend to view their developmental needs along very

narrow and highly limited perspectives.
� In order to develop viable freshwater management systems,
the TDWR has developed a very detailed and comprehensive
data base, which includes several decades of geologic, physical,
chemical, climatic and biologic studies and data collection.
Few of the LDCs have the resources or techniques to achieve
the objectives; it may be valuable to replicate statistical
data obtained from developed nations with similar riverine and

estuarine characteristics.

� While the freshwater inflow contributions of the Trinity River
to the Trinity-San Jacinto Bay System is now considered to be
adequate at this stage, future inland water diversions may
cause adverse or negative impacts. This can only be controlled
by an integrated inland-coastal zone freshwater management system.
It would be useful if water resource planners in LDCs also adapt
and implement integrated management systems.
� Effective control of both point-source and non-point-source
effluent discharges from both municipal and industrial systems
as well as agricultural development need constant m@nitoring
and analysis in order to limit the degradational impacts of
all such activities on the coastal ecosystems. This can be
extremely costly and time-consuming, but is of paramount importance
and suitable mechanisms to generate the requisite funds must be
implemented by all concerned.

545

2.5 The Nueces River and Nueces-Corpus Christi Bay System

The Nueces River is one of three drainage basins providing fresh-
water inflow to the Nueces-Corpus Bay system situated in the South central
Texas-Gulf of Mexico coast. A recent study conducted by the Office of
Biological Services (OBS) program of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service
(1981) addresses freshwater regime disturbances on the estuary.

Figure 15 illustrates the relationship between the three principal
drainage systems contributing inflows into the Nueces-Corpus Christi system.
The Nueces River Basin is bounded on the north and east by the Colorado,
Guadalupe, and San.Antonio River basins and the San Antonio-Nueces Coastal
Basin, and on the west and south by the Rio Grande Basin and the Nueces-Rio
Grande Coastal Basin. The basin has a drainage area of 16,950 square
miles. According to the report, between 1941 and 1974, average
annual gauged inflows from the Neuces River Basin averaged 628,000 acre-
feet/year, while ungauged inflows averaged 77,000 acre-feet/year. This
includes inflows from the two principal tributaries of the Nueces--the

Atascosa River and the Frio River.

The Nueces-Corpus Christi Bay system is the smallest of the major
inland bay systems of Texas with a combined surface area of only 200 square
miles (including Nueces, Corpus Christi, Oso and Redfish Bays, along with
17 miles of the Nueces River downstream from the Calallen Diversion Dam).

Lake Corpus Christi is the largest existing reservoir in the Nueces River
Basin and the bulk of the stored water is purchased by the City of Corpus
Christi. Other industrial and municipal consumers also purchase water
from the Lake Corpus Christi Reservoir.

Construction of a new reservoir about 10 miles above the confluence

of the Frio and Nueces Rivers has been authorized by federal authorization,
and is known as the Choke Canyon Reservoir Project. This new reservoir
site is about 42 river miles upstream from Lake Corpus Christi, and the
Bureau of Reclamation will be responsible for the entire project. The

OBS report states:

Construction of Choke Canyon Reservoir is projected to reduce the
amount of freshwater inflow entering the Nueces-Corpus Christi Bay
System from the Nueces River Basin. Freshwater inflow will be reduced
by 4% on an average annual basis (based on the 1941 to 1975 hydrologic
period). An increase in the frequency of high salinities in Nueces
Bay is also anticipated.

546

-----------

E-ARDS

BANDEIIA

GEXAR LOCATION MAP
-AIDE

WD-
-SON
IL Z

ZAVALA

I 1.1o ATASCOSA
NUECES RIVER BASIN > GOLIAD 11

BE
SAN ANTONIO NUECES
D-1 C.LLLEN LIVE A. COASTAL BASIN

C--
1AN.A--

.E.. OLIVAL

r
N"' ECES RIO GRANDEN
COASTAL BASIN A

KLEBERG

-E-

Figure 15. Three drainage basins contribute freshwater inflows to the
Nueces-Corpus Christi Bay System. (Source: Fish and Wildlife Service,
Office of Biological Sciences, 1981.)

547

Increased salinities resulting from reduced freshwater inflows
within the Nueces-Corpus Christi Bay System are likely to cause
a shift in vegetation species in the Nueces River Deltaic Marsh.
Those less tolerant of salinity would be replaced by others with
higher salinity tolerance. Biomass of animal populations within
both the marsh biotope and seagrass biotope would be altered.
Population changes of the key species would likely arise from
altered salinity conditions within the Corpus Christi Bay systems.
Losses or alterations of suitable nursery areas (marshes and seagrass
beds) for the development of larval, postlarval, and juvenile
forms of shell fish and finfish would be a major cause of faunal
changes.

2.5.1 Lessons Learned

� Considerable volumes of hydrologic data, backed up by
detailed climatic, geomorphologic, chemical, and biological
information collected over the long term are essential to
help guide effective planning and management of a nation's

coastal resources.

� Both inland as well as coastal zone and offshore human

activities can have significant impacts on coastal eco-
systems as a whole.

2.6 The Potomac River Estuary and the Chesapeake Bay

Both the Potomac and Susquehanna Rivers which were selected for this
case study are integral parts of the whole Chesapeake Bay System, and thus
it may be pertinent to very briefly discuss various aspects of the entire
bay system before turning our attention to the individual rivers. This
will eliminate duplication while presenting the more relevant factors.
Much of the description has been derived from Robinson (1981).*
The Chesapeake Bay is the largest estuary of the United States and
one of the more important estuaries of the world. It is about 200 miles
long and varies in width from 3 miles to about 30 miles at its widest point

near the mouth of the Potomac River. It has a free connection with the

waters of the Atlantic Ocean at its southern extreme. The tidal shoreline

of the bay and its tributaries is about 7,000 miles long while the water
surface area is about 4,300 square miles. The surface of the bay proper
is about 2,200 square miles and its mean depth is less than 28 feet.
The Chesapeake Bay receives water from a basin over 64,000 square miles
in area (Figure 16). There are more than 50 tributary rivers with widely

548

f., ry

Figure 16. The Chesapeake Bay showing the Potomac and
Susquehanna River Estuaries (Source: Robinson, Corps
of Engineers, 1981)

549

varying geochemical and hydrologic characteristics contributing fresh-
water to it. The largest'river on the east coast of the United States,
the Susquehanna, drains 42 percent of the basin. The Potomac River
drains 22 percent, while the Rappahannock-York-James system drains about
24 percent (Robinson, 1981).
Like all estuaries, Chesapeake Bay is dependent on the inflow of
freshwater to maintain its salinity regime. The species that live in the
bay year round and others that utilize it only in various portions of
their life cycle are generally able to survive the natural daily, seasonal,
and yearly variations in salinity. Drastically reduced freshwater in-
flows during droughts or reductions of less magnitude over a longer period
of time can impose environmental stress. Changes in freshwater inflow
can also alter existing estuarine flushing characteristics and circulation
patterns. The character of Chesapeake Bay and the health and well-being
of the ecosystem depend on established physical, chemical, and biological
patterns in the bay.
Recent Corps of Engineers' studies (1981) was found that,
if the present trend of increased water demands continue, the future
quantity of freshwater flowing into Chespeake Bay could be substantially
less than it is today. This predicted reduction is primarily a function
of increased consumptive use of water from the bay's tributaries resulting
from an increasing population, agricultural demands, and increasing use of
evaporative cooling processes.
The population of the Chesapeake Bay Region is expected to nearly
double in the next 50 years. The majority of these people will probably
be served by central water supply systems. Typical communities usually
return only 75 to 90 percent of the water withdrawn from rivers or streams.
If an inter-basin transfer is involved, it is possible that none of the

water would be returned.
An increasing population needs more food. Because of limited land
resources and other economic factors, locally produced food will probably
cause substantial increases in irrigation water demands further upland in
the drainage basin. Almost all of the water used for agricultural purposes
seldom returns to the hydrologic system or takes so long to return that, for
all practical purposes, it is considered lost.

550

As economic activity expands, more water will be needed for industrial
processes. This alone would result in a substantial increase in con-
sumptive water use. There is, however, a definite trend toward an in-
creased use of processes such as cooling towers, which involve the evapora-
tion of water. Utilities are required to minimize the extent of their
aerial discharge plumes, and can achieve this goal by use of enclosed
cooling towers or recycling the waste steam from their boilers. The
consumptive use of water associated with power generation and supply
is often markedly greater than some other types of processes.
Nearly every tributary to Chesapeake Bay will be subjected to the
consequences of increased consumptive uses of water.
Turning now to the Potomac River estuary itself, the Corps of
Engineers' analysts state:

The problem of supplying water to the Washington Metropolitan
Area is a major complication in the management of adequate
freshwater inflow. The region, already water short, would have
great difficulty in coping with a major drought condition.
Several proposals to solve the water supply problems of the
region are under active consideration. One such proposal
would use the Potomac Estuary at Washington as a supplemental
water supply source. But several problems have been associated
with this proposal. First, although the intake may be located at
a freshwater source, if large quantities of water are with-
drawn during a drought, the salt wedge could move far enough
upstream to contaminate water at the intakes. Secondly, large
freshwater withdrawals might reverse the flow of the estuary
sufficiently to cause the wastewater plume from the area's
wastewater treatment plant to reach these intakes. Third, with-
drawing water during the droughts could result in threats to the
integrity of the coastal ecosystem.
The water of the Potomac Estuary is already polluted, and it is
anticipated that advanced treatment methods will be required
to make it potable. Initial research and practical steps have
been undertaken by the Corps regarding such advanced waste-
water treatment (AWT) measures. At the same time, in accordance
with active and highly effective congressional and administrative
directives, a clean-up program has resulted in significant improve-
ments of water quality in the Potomac River. Yet there
is still a great deal of concern regarding the impact of
pollutants (including toxic chemicals), discharges of excess
nutrients (which cause eutrophication), decline of submerged
vegetal growth, along with proposed freshwater regime alterations
(both natural and man-induced) on the productivity of the Potomac
River Estuary.

551

This estuary is considered one of the most important spawning and
nursery habitats of the North Atlantic shad and the striped bass.
Mihursky et al. (1981) have addressed freshwater influences
on striped bass populations as follows:

The striped bass is an important commercial and recreational
fish native to the East Coast of the United States. It is an
anadromous species that migrates during the spawning season
from coastal high salinity areas to the fresh or slightly
brackish spawning grounds in the upper reaches of estuarine
systems. Research and management interests in this species have
increased markedly in the past decade because of stock declines.
Reports by Pfuderer et al.(1975), Rogers and Westin (1975), and
Horseman and Kernehan (1976) indicate that the Chesapeake Bay
system has been identified as the principal spawning and nursery
area for striped bass on the Atlantic coast and may contribute
as much as 90 percent of recruitment to the fishery in Atlantic
coastal waters (Kumar and Van Winkle, 1978; Berggren and
Lieberman, 1978). Given that the Potomac estuary contributes
about 20 percent of the striped bass stock, the authors conclude
that any significant reduction of springtime freshwater discharge
into the Potomac estuary would have a serious detrimental impact
on the fisheries of the region.
Shea et al. (1981) have modelled the Chesapeake Bay system
using sophisticated modelling techniques. They have shown that it is
possible to predict correlations between hydrologic changes and freshwater
diversions of various magnitudes. Their "Chesapeake Bay Ecosystem Model
(CBEM)" is a powerful and useful tool for conducting such detailed investi-
gations of estuarine systems.
Champ, Villa, and Bubeck. (1981) have traced the complex relationships
between sewage treatment plant discharges, freshwater quantities, salinity
levels, and nutrient level variations in the Potomac River estuary over
the past several decades. This paper shows the three perpetual
salinity zones recognized in this estuary.

2.6.1 Lessons Learned

v The national capital metropolitan area, with a rapidly expanding
population growth,is the major source of demand for consumptive
freshwater diversions from the upper reaches of the Potomac River

estuary system.
v Sewage treatment plants and effluent disposal systems of the
region are the major sources of nutrient modification in the
estuary. Considerable pollution problems of the river waters

552

in the past have been successfully, though only partially,
ameliorated by a concerted effort authorized by strong
environmental regulation accompanied by massive funding.
Reduced freshwater inflows into the Potomac estuary is
likely to aggravate the pollution problems in this system.
� Only complete, integrated and continuous regional cooperation
can ensure steady improvement in the quality of the freshwater
inflows into this coastal ecosystem.
� Public awareness of major problems and the
determination to implement viable solutions are essential
elements in rehabilitating a damaged estuarine ecosystem even
at very high costs. Though the costs of such rehabilitation
exceeded several millions of dollars, the end result has im-
proved the quality of the Potomac River estuary. Yet it
appears from the recent newspaper reports that a great deal
of additional funds and effort are still needed to minimize

the level of pollution in the Potomac River.
Recent reports (Washington Post, September 3 and November 11,
1983) indicate that high phosphate discharges from the Blue
Plain Treatment Plant in Washington, D.C., and the Virginia
Wastewater Treatment Plant near Quantico may have been respon-
sible for unusally rapid algal blooms, recorded during the late
summer and fall of 1983, extending all the way down to the Tide-
water area of the Potomac estuary. Hence, the phosphate levels
discharged into the Potomac by both Washington and Virginia
wastewater disposal authorities must be significantly reduced.
Despite the beneficial results achieved in the Potomac water
quality through the expenditure of billions of dollars, any
relaxation of effluent discharge standards, whether intentional
or not, can rapidly destroy such benefits and cause unnecessary
ecological damage.

2.7 The Susquehanna River Segment of the Chesapeake Bay System

The Susquehanna River is the largest river on the East Coast and
drains about 42% of the 64,000 square mile basin draining into the Chesapeake
Bay (Robinson, 1981). High density of industrial concentration along the

553

upper reaches of the river are potential sources of chemical and thermal
pollution. Industry, combined with a growing population and increased
consumptive freshwater demands, could pose serious ecologic damage--
particularly during drought seasons and other low water flow periods.
Robinson (1981) has presented some interesting statistics on the recorded
low water flows and projected consumptive water demands. Table 2, from
his report,indicates the magnitude of consumptive uses of the Susquehanna
River waters. Actual discharges of the Susquehanna River during August,
September, and October of the drought year, 1964, compared with anticipated
consumptive uses of water through the year 2020, present real cause for
concern. These reduced inflows have been adjusted to reflect the influ-
ences of several dams constructed since 1964 and the discharges from waste-
water treatment plants.
Under low flow conditions these consumptive uses often constitute a
considerable portion of the natural flow in a river. For instance, the
losses in the Susquehanna River during this dry period constitute from 24
percent to 66 percent of the natural river flow. A very comprehensive
"Low Freshwater Inflow Study" by the Corps of Engineers is still being

conducted to help determine the best means to meet the minimum freshwater
requirements of the estuarine ecosystem while serving the consumptive
upstream needs.
The major problem lies in identifying or quantifying such "minimum"
ecosystem needs, and then determing how to curtail upstream freshwater
diversion during peak low flow conditions. Shea et al. (1981) discuss
their studies on low inflow studies and the various modelling techniques
being used to provide answers to the problems.
Numerous studies and reports have been published on different aspects
of the Susquehanna River, and the Susquehanna River Basin Commission has
actively supported research in this field. Riddesill and Senko (1979) have
evaluated the impact of the three hydroelectric facilities--Conowingo,
Holtwood and Safe Harbor plants--on the Lower Susquehanna River Basin.
The dissolved oxygen concentrations were subject to significant fluctuations
on account of these plants.
Coelen et al. (1977) reported on the feasibility of transferring
up to 400 cubic feet per second (cfs) of freshwater from the
Susequehanna River Basin to the Delaware Reservoir System,
including nine alternative water supply schemes to augment

554

Table 2. Chesapeake Bay low freshwater inflow study. Susquehanna
River weekly average low freshwater inflows with and
without consumptive losses (in cubic feet per second).
(Source: Robinson, 1981.)

Week Recorded Consumptive Reduced Percent
Ending Flow Loss (2020) Flow Reduction

5 Aug 64 5087 1751 3335 34
12 Aug 64 7155 1752 5403 24
19 Aug 64 4900 1752 3148 36
26 Aug 64 3968 1752 2216 44
2 Sep 64 3955 1632 2323 41
9 Sep 64 3182 1632 1550 51
16 Sep 64 2613 1632 981 62
23 Sep 64 2415 1632 783 68
30 Sep 64 2466 1632 834 66
7 Oct 64 3980 1600 2380 40

14 Oct 64 3182 1600 1582 50

21 Oct 64 3462 1600 1862 46

28 Oct 64 3223 1600 1623 50

NOTE: The 1964 figures were chosen as being representative
of drought period conditions.

555

the New York City area water requirements. While it was found to be
economically and hydrologically feasible, the impacts of reduced flow
conditions in the Lower Susquehanna Basin may not be acceptable.

2.7.1 Lessons Learned

� The Susquehanna River Basin is the principal source of freshwater
inflows into the Chesapeake Bay System and is subject to abnormally
high losses during extreme low flow or drought conditions. During
normal seasons, the impacts of sedimentation are fairly well con-
trolled, but unpredictable tropical storms have drastically in-
creased sedimentation problems on several occasions. Low flow
conditions have also caused serious damage to the coastal ecosystems.
� Flowing through highly industrialized sections of Pennsylvania
and Maryland, the Susquehanna River is likely to impound or withdraw
to meet upstream freshwater demands. Dams and hydroelectric power
plants already in operation along the length of the river appear
to have stabilized freshwater inflows into the Bay. Impacts of
additional changes in the hydrologic regime on the coastal eco-
systems must be carefully evaluated before they are implemented.
� Optimal conditions can be maintained in the coastal ecosystems only
if human activities can be made to conform with and/or augment
existing natural processes,rather than going contrary to such

processes.

2.8 The Yadkin-Pee Dee River System

originating on the southeastern slopes of North Carolina's Blue Ridge
Mountains, the Yadkin River becomes the Pee Dee River in South Carolina,
draining an area of about 18,000 square miles of both these states, along
with a small part of southeast Virginia, before flowing into the Winyah Bay
near Georgetown, South Carolina (Figure 17). It is the second largest river
basin on the Atlantic coast. Clark (1980) and the U.S. Water Resources
Council (WRC), 1981, have described the hydrology of this river

system.
The flow of the Yadkin-Pee Dee River essentially consists of the runoff

from 44-56 inches of annual rainfall distributed over the entire basin.

556

YM- It- It
Wilke&@-, 52 Wo

S,@.Y k

19oo
y i,e, 1,,h
ft :'@.Rke ...

-R7
_@y -F-I
N-
@D

P-
Rockingh@, NC Sloo WD
L -
1A

@e@ R-, .1

Ly
Effm9h- , @C
650@D
G ... t P.. D
I P- De, Sc 6oo MGD

L-11 PI, It R i1*1 11-1-11,
I, G.11 i-W. ret,y
210D @D

an WnqM, SC 7#o MD

51-1 R1,11 It
@,C
00 @D

Figure 17. The Yadkin-Pee Dee River Basin (Source: Clark 1980.)

557

An average discharge of 13,700 cfs flows into the Winyah Bay (WRC,
1981). About 60% of the basin is forested, while 31% is devoted
to agricultural cultivation, over 6% to urban development, and
about 3% is put to other uses.
Significant growth is projected in urban development activities over
the next several decades. If this growth materializes, it will result in
a substantial increase in the demand for consumptive freshwater withdrawal
from the river system. Urban and industrial wastewater and sewage disposal
problems will also increase. These will place a severe ecological stress

on Winyah Bay.
Clark (1980) has dealt with the existing problems already being
evidenced at the mouth of the Yadkin-Pee Dee River system, and has strongly
cautioned against rapid and improperly planned developments in both the
coastal regions and inland. His reconnaissance survey of the Winyah Bay
ecosystem shows that sedimentation, along with urban, industrial and agri-
cultural pollution, has already caused some serious environmental degradation
which includes restriction or banning of shellfish harvesting in sections of
the bay. Even this reconnaissance of the Winyah Bay ecosystem indicates that
proposed industrial development in the region could lead to disastrous results.
The studies and alternatives suggested in the Conservation Foundation report,
as well as the Yadkin-Pee Dee River Basin Plan, highlights the prevalent gaps
in data essential to make planning decisions. Upstream non-point-source
pollution control measures, accompanied by sedimentation entrapment schemes
and very careful development plans,seem to be the most feasible means of pre-
serving the delicate coastal ecosystems.

2.8.1 Lessons Learned

� Integrated basin wide freshwater management techniques involving
active participation at local, state and federal levels are
absolutely essential to prevent unacceptable damage to the
coastal ecosystem of the region.
� Cooperative data collection and dissemination methods should be
developed by both North Carolina and South Carolina to achieve
maximum economic benefits for both states. Hence, interregional
and interjurisdictional planning combined with extensive public
participation are the most efficient means to achieve-optimum

results.

558

e Establishment of heavy industrial complexes with new harbor and
navigational facilities south of Georgetown, South Carolina, may
cause a great deal more environmental, social and economic damages

in the long run, as compared to the projected short-term economic
advantages that may be derived from such developmental plans.
e Both North and South Carolina must work together to study and
develop adequate data bases on surface water and groundwater hydro-
logy in order to establish minimum inflow requirements for eco-
system maintenance.

2.9 The Cooper and Santee River Estuaries

Two rivers of South Carolina are of considerable interest to

engineers, physical scientists and coastal ecologists, mainly because
of the potential impacts of the proposed Santee-Cooper Rediversion Project,
authorized by the River and Harbor Act of 1968. They gained considerable
significance shortly after the initial impoundment and diversion of the
bulk of the Santee River waters to the Cooper River Basin to support hydro-
electric generation way back in 1942.
Barclay and Burrell (1981) document the diversion of an average of
15,600 cfs into the Cooper River (up from an average of 72 efs),
at Pinopolis Dam (Figure 18) as a direct result of the construc-
tion of the Santee-Cooper hydroelectr4C plant. At the same time the project
reduced the average flow in the Santee River from about 15,500 cfs to about
2,230 cfs.
The net result of the 1942 diversion was a drastic, totally unanticipated
shoaling in Charleston Harbor. The authors report:

Increased shoaling in Charleston Harbor was an unanticipated result
of the Santee-Cooper diversion project. The average annual amount
of material dredged from Charleston Harbor increased from 500,000
cubic yards before diversion to 10,000,000 cubic yards a few years
after the project was completed. Studies since 1942 have revealed
that the greatly increased inflow of freshwater to the harbor
interacts with the tidal inflow of saline water from the Atlantic
Ocean to form density currents which entrap sediments and create
vast shoals. This large increase in shoaling resulted in a tre-
mendous increase in maintenance dredging requirements for Charleston
Harbor. Thus, in 1966 the Corps of Engineers proposed to reduce
the shoaling problem in Charleston Harbor by rediverting most of
the original Santee River flow back into the Santee Basin.

559

SOUTH CAROLINA

WILSON
DAM
LAKE
MARION EDIVERSION
PROJECT

GEORGETOWN

LAKE
X44@@,
MOULTRIE

P OPOU
N'
O'A M MILE 15

MILE1 SAM

MILE 30 .0 A
0

N
MILE 17 W"

OG(

CHARLE N

Figure 18. The Cooper and Santee estuaries, South Carolina, showing
areas affected by the rediversion project. (Source: Barclay and
Burrell, 1981.)

560

After the passage of several decades, the coastal ecosystems appear
to have stabilized to an almost total adjustment to the changed flow

conditions. The Santee River bifurcates near river mile 15 from its

mouth and allows 85% of its freshwater flow drain through the north
branch, which has lower salinity levels than the southern branch. The
Santee-Cooper Rediversion Project proposes to reduce shoaling in Charleston
Harbor by rediverting water to the lower Santee River so that flows in the
Cooper River are limited to a weekly average of 3,000 cfs, an amount deter-
mined by Corps of Engineers' sediment modelling studies to be insufficient
for the formation of density currents and the entrapment of sediment. The
potential ecologic impact on the Santee River estuarine habitat is still a

subject of considerable controversy.
Nevertheless, the exorbitant dredging costs associated with maintaining
navigational facilities at Charleston Harbor make it imperative for some
drastic action to save the region's economic viability. This must in turn
be weighed against potential economic losses of lucrative fish and wildlife
resources, now well-established along the Santee River estuary. The interested
reader is referred to numerous papers dealing with various aspects of this
problem--many for, and many against the proposed rediversion project.
Given the limitations of this study, it may suffice for our purposes to
point out some of the lessons learned from this brief review of the Santee and

Cooper rivers.

2.9.1 Lessons Learned

� By authorizing and implementing engineering projects to enhance
apparently immediate short-term benefits, a coastal community
may suffer from long-term adverse consequences--particularly
if careful integrated regional planning is disregarded.
� It generally requires decades to establish a totally new and
modified ecosystem properly adjusted to man-made changes.
Another change in the opposite direction can lead to disastrous
ecologic damages, which may often be irrevocable. The best
results are often attained when human activities are geared in a
manner to enhance natural processes, rather than to go against

them.

561

2.10 The Sacramento-San Joaquin Estuary

Turning to the West Coast, with its mild climate, seasonal rainfall,
and high density of population in the coastal zone; stresses on the
estuaries are evident in high salinities, agricultural and industrial
pollution and constantly diminishing amounts of freshwater inflows into

the coastal estuaries.

Papers by Herrgesell et al. (1981) and Kjelson et al. (1981)
are useful in understanding the problems of the Sacramento-San Joaquin

estuary.

The Sacramento, the largest river of California, drains the Sacramento
Valley between the Coastal Ranges and the Sierra Nevada Mountains and parts
of the Central Valley before joining the San Joaquin River. The San Joaquin
in turn drains most of the southern part of the Central Valley. The con-
fluence of Sacramento and San Joaquin river systems forms a complex estuarine
system characterized by numerous interconnected embayments, slough, marshes,
channels, and distributaries (Figure 19). A large lowland area formed by
the junction of the rivers, the Sacramento-San Joaquin delta, forms the
eastern-most portion of the estuary. The Sacramento River bounds the delta
on the north, while the San Joaquin flows by the south. Suisun and San Pablo
bays are located to the west of the delta. These carry the freshwater through
the San Francisco Bay via the Golden Cate. Herrgesell et al. continue to

state:

The estuary receives runoff from a 63,000 square mile drainage basin
which covers 40 percent of the land area of California (Conomos,1979).
Inflow into the system is highly seasonal and is composed primarily
of rain runoff during winter and snowmelt runoff during early summer.
The annual natural flow through the estuary would average about
27.6 x 106 acre-ft. Ninety percent of the fresh water that enters the
bay passes through the delta (Porterfield et al.,1961) and Carquinez
Strait.

According to Kjelson et al. (1981):

Presently, water is exported to the south by pumping plants in the
southern delta [Figure 19] operated by the Central Valley Project (CVP)
of the Federal Water and Power Resources Service and the State Water
Project (SWP) of the California Department of Water Resources. Typical
export rates substantially exceed the flow of the San Joaquin River,
hence most of the San Joaquin flow goes to the pumps. Remaining export
needs are met by diversions from the Sacramento River.

562

MAP
AREA

SACRAMENTO
4k
SACRAMENTO-
SAN JOAQUIN

RIVER SYSTEM HDOD
N APA I PERIP-CE'RAL
MARSH SUISUN % CINAL
MARSH (proposod)

RIO VISTA

SAN
PABLO SUISUN DEL71 A
BAY SAY
PITTSBURG VENICEISLAND
ANTIOC
0 'p

S CKTON
GOL EN GATE
<
0 0 S.W.P.
IN )
-rslo:) t PUMP. PLANT P AL
FRANCISCO C.V.
PUMP.PLANT
I-
.61 0 2 4 6 9 10
L-i
KILOMETERS
VA

Figure 19. The Sacramento-San Joaquin estuary, California.
(Source: Hergesell et al., 1981.)

563

Water development projects in California have caused major
changes in the flow patterns within the estuary and the amount of
flow entering the ocean. One result of upstream development is
that the average annual freshwater flow to the ocean from the
Sacramento-San Joaquin system has been halved since the 1800's.
Most of the water in the San Joaquin system is captured and utilized
in upstream areas, while development on the Sacramento has been
designed for both upstream use and the transport of water through
the delta to more southern parts of California. Ninety percent
of the freshwater inflow to the estuary is from the Sacramento River.
Future water development plans, as authorized under recent State
legislature (Senate Bill 200, signed July, 1980) include construction
of additional upstream storage reservoirs and a peripheral canal.
The Peripheral Canal Project is designed to divert water at a maximum
of approximately 23,000 cfs from the Sacramento River at Hood and
transport it around the eastern edge of the delta to the pumps in the
southern delta.

2.10.1 Lessons Learned

� Despite considerable damage to coastal ecosystems, freshwater
needs for human developmental activities appear to supersede
the freshwater needs of the ecosystems in California's pre-
vailing water management policies. The main question is whether
water managers can balance the upriver consumptive needs ade-
quately enough to prevent complete degradation of the coastal
zone resources. So far, the California state authorities seem
to be succeeding in maintaining this minimal delicate balance,
as evidenced by the size of the salmon and bass populations in

the Sacramento-San Joaquin Estuary region.
� Excessive diversion of the currently adequate Sacramento River
inflows much beyond the already much-reduced historic flow regime
may, however, lead to further severe degradation. This may be
controlled by augmenting estuarine freshwater inflows through

other alternatives.

� Thorough analyses conducted over the long term combined with
sophisticated modelling and simulation techniques may have
helped the California water resources managers maintain the
estuarine ecosystems at their current delicately balanced levels.

� The Sacramento-San Joaquin estuarine problems are typical examples
of the growing conflict between the effort to establish sensible
coastal zone management techniques and attempts to satisfy

564

burgeoning population demands for limited water sources in semi-
arid regions. Such conflicts are widely prevalent in many of the
developing nations of Asia, Africa, South America, and the Middle East.

2.11 The Colorado River System

The Colorado River, along with its major tributaries, the Green River,
Grand River, Gilla River and other smaller streams, can best be described
as the 'jugular vein' sustaining life in areas of seven of the eleven arid
western states: Wyoming, Colorado, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, California and
New Mexico. It is also the most fought-over, heavily depleted American river.
Most of the freshwater in the river (82%) is completely utilized in the
United States, before the balance carrying high concentrations of salt and
agricultural runoff crosses the border, to be utilized by the Mexican
authorities before reaching the Pacific Ocean through the Gulf of California.
Figures 20 and 21 illustrate the regional setting of the Colorado
River and the seven states dependent on the waters of the Colorado River

basin.
The river drains almost 242,000 square miles of U.S. territory, and
about 8,000 square miles of Mexico, before dropping 14,000 feet in elevation
during its 1,700-mile journey from its headwaters to the sea. Flows in
the Colorado River have varied between 50,000 and 100,000
cfs, but these quantities of water are heavily controlled by no
less than eight dams and reservoirs. Every drop of runoff from the meagre
rainfalls and snowmelt in the higher elevations is almost totally exploited.
California, with its densely populated southern region accounts for a
significant proportion of the freshwater diversion from the Colorado River
Basin. International treaties with Mexico guarantee a fixed share of the
Colorado waters at a certain level of salinity. But given peak drought
conditions and heavy upstream demands, deviations from the norm are

likely to occur.
Through a set of unique water resources management techniques developed
and strictly enforced by the eleven major western states after decades of
intricate water-rights litigation, a compromise situation now exists. The
intricate water allocation formulae and the tomes of judicial decision would
boggle the minds of most laymen. The Western States Water Resources Council,
along with the powerful Water Engineers of the seven concerned states, zealously

565

I D A H 0 C*,

W Y 0 M I N G

GREAT DIVIDE
BASIN
Green
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Lyman
G "IF. T Fort fLAMING SORGE Cheyenne.
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Tucson

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A
AJ Nogales
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0 A. Felipe
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GULF OF
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Figure 20. The Colorado River Basin and seven western states sustained
by the river. (Source: Fradkin, 1981.)

566

I00*
tk -ENIGION
NORTH DAKOTA 1\
MONTANA I MINN

OREGON IDAHO SOLjTH DAKOTA
WYOMING
IOWA
NEBRASKA

CENTRAI UTAN PROJECT
I IN Mpsom,
UTAH It
NEVADA A NUMNI ft Of $MAI I PRajjCn mo
ASIN COL mrwepAit KANSAS
AR"#SAS PROJECT ----------
PACIF)CC. CALIFORNIA\
SA#JUA
#-CHAMA OKLAHOMA
OCEAN COI ORADO RiVER C. .,.,d,
GUIFOUC (YWEP
LORAZO "I"' NEW
BASIN MEXICO
% ARIZONA I
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TLUINA A,?UmkVCj

MLIFO@NIA SONORA
E x I C 0'.
-.0- Ow-d4EIasin dl--@@

Figure 21. Regional setting of the Colorado River basin.
(Source: Fradkin, 1981.)
! NWYI-INI
R

jf@

567

guard and enforce the interstate, intrastate and international water use
codes thrashed out after years of acrimonious and bitter strife, while mini-
mizing most forms of federal intervention.
Fradkin (1981) describes detailed historical, social, economic,
political, environmental, and legal issues associated with the Colorado
River at great length. According to this author the Gulf of California has
been deprived of any freshwater inflow during the past twenty years. Hence,
it appears that the coastal ecosystems have somehow adapted to the highly
saline conditions created by human activities.
Fradkin also draws an analogy between the Colorado River and the Nile
River in Egypt, as well as other ancient river systems where entire
civilizations have been wiped out or have disappeared, partly because of
such relentless withdrawal of fresh waters from those rivers by rapidly
growing populations. His book appears to sound a stern note of caution
against the dangers of uncontrolled freshwater consumption from a river
flowing through a predominantly arid region. The irrevocable damages caused
by such activities to coastal ecosystems cannot be overly emphasized.

2.11.1 Lessons Learned

� This system may be regarded as one of the most extreme examples
of how not to manage a river, if a nation is to have any regard
for coastal ecosystems and the valuable resources provided from
the coastal zone. It also seems imperative that such a total

withdrawal should be avoided.

� It appears that judicious allocation of meagre water resources
in arid and desert environs of the world can help furnish sub-
stantial economic benefits, even if only for limited periods of

time. National leaders are often faced with a very difficult
choice between trying to preserve valuable coastal zone research
or benefiting upstream water users. The Indus River basin of
Pakistan provides a similar example for such a tough decision-
making process.
� Despite the most advanced technological breakthroughs, a time and
point will come when one must decide on the next step for survival
after completely utilizing readily available water resources. Only
severe controls and strict enforcement of established regulations
can ensure the possibility of bare survival.

568

9 There are dangers associated with over-exploitation of non-replenish-
able groundwater resources upstream. Depletion of such resources

will take its toll on downstream water inflows.

569

3. SUMMARY OF LESSONS LEARNED

Certain important facts were discerned during the review of papers
by marine biologists, hydrologists, ecologists, conservationists, fishery
specialists, coastal zone managers and developmental engineers. A brief
summary of observations on the eleven selected rivers is pre-

sented here.

a With increasing population growth and accompanying freshwater
demands, coastal zones will continue to suffer from decreasing
freshwater inflows despite any array of rules and regulations.
To meet the increasing inland water, coastal ecosystems will be
stressed to varying degrees and drastic changes in nearshore
biological populations are likely to occur. Many species will
migrate, or become extinct, while others may adapt to modified

conditions.

e Decreased freshwater inflows into coastal estuarine systems
cause several major problems. Reduced inflows cause rapid
fluctations in the salinity levels of estuarine zones and
disruption of the fragile freshwater-saltwater interface.
Heavy natural floods and human-induced wet weather discharges
will push this interface farther offshore, while dry season

withdrawals will result in detrimental inland saline intrusions.

Changes in periodicity of flows in estuarine regions are often

detrimental to coastal biota.

o Human activities such as construction of dams, levees, flood

control structures, urban and agricultural developments, dredging

of navigation channels, and other related functions often
result in drastic changes of the sediment load discharged by
most rivers into the nearshore coastal environment. Heavy sedi-
ment discharges usually result in shoaling, siltation, loss of
dissolved oxygen, and high turbidity. Other inland structures
retain large volumes of sediments and associated mineral nutrients
which are essential for the survival of coastal ecosystems. The
life-systems of marshes, swamps, lagoons and other coastal features
are heavily dependent on periodic or seasonal flushing. Hence,
upstream modifications of the hydrologic regime of most drainage
systems often affect the coastal zone ecosystems in an adverse

manner.

570

* Nearshore and upstream agricultural, urban and industrial

developments tend to increase estuarine pollution through
increased sewage and chemical disposal. Many of the polluting
elements have been found to be toxic to plants and animals.
Yet the sources and long-term detrimental impacts on coastal
biota have only been discovered long after the damages have
occurred. Regular and constant monitoring of water qualities
in a river system, while expensive, helps to ensure prevention
of coastal zone degradation.
* Power plants and other industrial cooling systems cause great
temperature fluctuations in water entering the receiving
bodies. Sudden heavy flooding and reservoir spillway discharges
can result in sudden lowering of water temperatures often to
appreciable distances offshore. Such drastic temperature varia-
tions are often detrimental to the coastal ecologic regimes.
e The overall damage to coastal ecosystems results in significant
societal and economic losses of an extremely vital and essential

resource base.

* Despite the array of federal and state legislation enacted in
the United States over the last few decades, several factors im-
pede the reversal of the previously-caused damage to major river-
estuarine systems. These include insufficient coordination between
various concerned agencies, lack of jurisdictional control and
enforcement powers, lack of sufficient knowledge and a universal
shortage of funds.
* Environmental assessments, impact statements, and other localized
measures taken to alleviate environmental damage, tend to be ex-
tremely limited in their scope and extent. Water resources managers
are apt to underestimate the cumulative effects of their project
activities, and may tend to neglect the overall regional effects
of their site-specific activities. Hence greater interregional

coordinations and interagency cooperation becomes imperative if
damages to coastal ecosystems are to be controlled or minimized.

571

The author recognizes that it would not be feasible to make a
comprehensive evaluation of all coastal ecologic problems caused by human
activities modifying the hydrologic regimes in upstream regions of the
selected rivers. Table3 attempts to depict a cause-and-effect relation-

ship noted during this investigation.
Based on the lessons learned, a series of guidelines have been
developed and presented in the subsequent section.

572

rable 3. Impacts of flow changes in selected U.S. rivers on coastal ecosystems.

CANDIDATE RIVERS OR RECORDED TYPES OF IMPACTS ON COASTAL
ESTUARY SYSTEMS HYDROLOGIC MODIFICATIONS ECOSYSTEMS

I . Apalachicola River & Bay *Bartlett Ferry & Columbia Dams on a Abrupt changes in salinity and
the Chattahoochee River nutrient levels
System eSeveral smaller reservoirs & flood e Lowered light penetration due to
(Flows through Georgia, control structures on both Flint increased runoff from altered
Alabama, & Florida and Chattahoochee Rivers swamp condition
aForestry & cattle ranching pro- e Lowered water quality, pH and
Hain TributarigS Flint River jects in Tate's Hill Swamp dissolved oxygen
& Chattahoochee River e Substantial reduction in
9Designation of Apalachicola Bay white shrimp harvest
Receiving Body: Gulf of Mexico as National Sanctuary

2. Atchafalaya River & Bay 9Removal of natural log jam at * Increased diversion of Mississippi
(Flows through Louisiana) offshoot point from Mississippi River flows
Ln vLengthy navigation channel inland * Increased channel scouring
e High sedimentation of coastal
from the bay
aFlood control levees & dikes swamps and lakes
*Old river control structure e Fluctations in salinity in nutrient
Main Tributaripg This is a and salinity levels during high
floods/surge releases
distributary of the Mississippi e Rapid deltaic land accretion
Receiving body: Gulf of Mexico
via Matagorda Bay
3. Colorado River (Texas) 9Removal of major natural log jam e Loss of nutrients, nitrogen,
(Restricted to the State of 0Important navigation channel phosphorous and organic materials
0Few flood control and water directly into the gulf
Texas) supply structures e Inundation and flushing of deltaic
marshes during flood events
o Altered salinity regimes and de-
@7
1. Apla,

Main'-Tributarl,,. No major Proposed mouth of the Colorado creased freshwater inflows due to
tributaries of significance River Project upstream reservoirs

Receiving Body: Gulf of Mexico

Table 3. (Continued)
6ANDIDATE RIVERS OR RECORDED TYPES OF- IMPACTS ON COASTAL
ESTUARY SYSTEMS HYDROLOGIC MODIFICATIONS ECOSYSTEMS
4. Trinity River and 29 reservoirs of various sizes & Decreased productivity in the
Trinity-San Jacinto Estuary o Bubstantial groundwater with- Trinity caused by decline in
drawals & heavy pumpage nutrient supply
(confined to Texas) e Significant industrial and urban * Widespread land subsidenc-e in
center development with high Houston-Galveston area due to
lklain Tributaries- No major loads of treated wastewater dis- excessive groundwater withdrawal
charges
rivers

Receiving Body: Gulf of Mexico

5. Nueces River and Nueces- Several major reservoirs and o Not much impact as yet
Corpus Christi Bay (Texas) dams upriver--including the
Corpus Christi Reservoir and
Cuallen Dam
Ul
4 Agricultural & industrial waste Anticipate medium to high stress
streams on coastal ecosystem when Choke
\lain Tributarip, Frio River, Canyon Reservoir Project is imple-
mented
Atascosa River e Proposed Choke Canyon Reservoir
Receiving body: Gulf of Mexico to be built 42 miles upriver
trom Corpus Christi

6. Potomac River and e Numerous water supply and flood e Heavy pollution and high phosphates
control structures causing dense algal blooms
Chesapeake Bay * Several large wastewater treatment e Contamination of shad and other
(Drains West Virginia, plants discharge into the fish
Maryland, & Virginia Potomac a Decline of undercoater vegetal
e Industrial waste streams & power- growth
:lain Tributarip_,Shenandoah plant cooling tower discharges a Decline,of striped bass population

:,'eceiving Body:Atlantic Ocean

Table 3. (Continued)

CANDIDATE RIVERS OR RECORDED TYPES OF IMPACTS ON COASTAL
ESTUARY SYSTEMS HYDROLOGIC MODIFICATIONS ECOSYSTEMS

7. Susquehanna River and Many large dams reduce dry season e Unusually high dry season inflow
Chesapeake Bay inflows by 25%-65% losses
Hydroelectric plants and major * Decline in fisheries harvest
(Drains: Pennsylvania & industrial units in Pennsylvania
Maryland) & Maryland contribute to high
pollution
Main Tributari,er, Heavy urban and commercial
development with high consumptive
water use
Receiving Body: Atlantic Ocean

8. Yadkin-Pee Dee River System a Several water supply reservoirs & a Restriction/ban placed on shellfish
(Drains southwest Virginia, flood control structures harvesting in Winyah Bay
structures 9 Loss of navigational facilities
Ul North & South Carolinas) near Georgetown, S.C.,due to
J
Ul heavy shoaling & high dredging

Main Tributarips * Proposed development of heavy
industrial complex and new harbor
Receiving body: Atlantic Ocean south of Georgetown, S.C.

9. Cooper and Santee River 0 1942 Diversion of Santee River a Drastic shoaling in Charleston
Estuaries water to Cooper River via Lake Harbor, S.C.,due to formation
Marion & Lake Moultrie of density currents & sediment
0 Large hydroelectric power plant entrapment
e Rediversion Project likely to
cause drastic habitat changes in
@Iain Tributaries- a Proposed Santee-Cooper Rediversion Lower Santee River
Project

Receiving Body: Atlantic Ocean

Table 3. (Continued)

CANDIDATE RIVERS OR RECORDED TYPES OF IMPACTS ON COASTAL
ESTUARY SYSTEMS HYDROLOGIC MODIFICATIONS ECOSYSTEMS
10. Sacramento-San Joaquin e Complex system of water and & High degree of salinity encroachiag
irrigation supply withdrawals, into the bay system
Estuary causing 100% flow diversion of 0 Salmon fishery not yet effected
San Joaquin River
* Considerable pollution from a Considerable ecosystem damage
agricultural, industrial and anticipated if the Central Valley
Main Tributari,Qq urban discharge Project is implemented
Receiving Bold . Pacific Ocean 9 Proposed Central Valley Project
y. would further decrease Sacramento
River inflows to the estuary
11. Colorado River 9 Several major dams in the USA & a Highly saline and mineralized
diversion structures in Mexico inflow into Gulf of California
a Industrial, agricultural & almost to the point of no flow
urban water supplies are often at all
beyond safe limits

Main Tributaries Green River

Receiving body:

L -A

4. PROPOSED GUIDELINES

The following set of guidelines may be implemented by water resource
managers in developing nations experiencing similar coastal zone degrada-
tion and freshwater inflow problems to meet their specific requirements.
These guidelines are not listed in order of priority, nor will they be
applicable to all circumstances. The guidelines should be implemented
or modified to suit the particular needs of each individual coastal

region.
(1) Efforts should be initiated immediately to collect and compile
baseline data on individual river distributary or regional estuarine systems.
Such data should include essential hydrologic and ecological parameters
based on historical and present-day conditions. Basic hydrologic data
should include those delineating watersheds and drainage basins, those on
precipitation runoff, seasonal variations, consumptive demands and uses by
different sectors, natural losses through evapotranspiration and other essential
statistics. Fundamental ecologic data should include information on the
freshwater needs of plants, fish, animals, birds and human beings fre-

quenting the region, on optimum salinity tolerances of coastal faunal
and floral species, and on periodicity of demand and human consumptive needs.
Where such data are not readily available, it may be possible to use simu-
lated data extrapolated from rainfall runoff calculation tables developed
by the Soil Conservation Service of the U.S. Department of Agriculture.
Or, reference may be made to coastal zone management techniques developed
by several American research agencies, such as the Corps of Engineers, NOAA,

the Fish and Wildlife Service and others.

(2) Using such empirical, factual or extrapolated data, minimum
freshwater inflow needs of various ecosystems must be established on a
national or regional basis. When rivers drain watersheds extending beyond
national boundaries, international agreements are needed to establish inflow
needs. Both hydrologic and ecologic parameters must be considered in any
such evaluation. Criteria for establishing national or regional inflow
needs should include demographics, agricultural and industrial factors,
urban and rural configurations, inland and coastal resource availability,
hydrologic regimes (past and present), number and variety of coastal flora

577

and fauna, and many other relevant parameters.
(3) Water rights and riparian allocation decisions must be based on

the actual and essential economic needs of coastal as well as inland

water users. When rivers cross national boundaries, upstream and downriver
water users often present conflicting demands for limited water resources.
Unfriendly neighbors question the reliability of the data presented by
specialists of either country. Each upstream nation insists on its
perogative to meet the water needs of its own region before considering
the downstream country's water requirements. Each group claims that they
have the right to a greater share of the available resources on the basis
of antiquated water rights laws. Hence, cost-benefit analyses based
on available empirical data must be well documented and accurately
developed to permit a comparative analysis with inland water development,
cost-benefits, and subsequent establishment of water use priorities. The
example of the western states of the United States agreements on sharing
scarce water resources may provide valuable guidelines for the use by
planners in other arid or semi-arid regions of the world.
(4) Research and management of rivers and watersheds should be coord-
inated with similar national or regional plans for protecting the resources
of coastal zones and estuaries. In any case, total water resource manage-
ment should be on a regional rather than localized basis. Hence, environ-
mental assessments pertaining to upstream development projects should also
be on a regional rather than localized basis, and such projects should
consider long-term, downstream impacts likely to be caused by water use.
(5) Effective regulatory agencies with adequate institutional infra-
structures, ample funding and enforcement authorities must be established
to ensure compliance with the established standards and prevent irreversible

ecologic deterioration. Available data collected from studies on some
EurolI?ean and Russian river systems appear to indicate that freshwater
flow@reductions exceeding 25% to 30% of the net total flow of a river
genetally result in disastrous coastal ecologic consequences. These figures
couli I vary in different geographical regions, but are generally applicable
in ti@mperate latitudes. Hence, freshwater planning, allocating and manage-
ment agencies must have the requisite authority to enforce stopping of
futuie inland development activities when established flow standards may be
exceeded by such actions. This can best be accomplished by integrating

578

water allocation for natural systems before a confrontation arises between
proposed new development and natural systems water needs.
(6) Several alternatives for water development projects should be
considered in the planning stages. Such alternatives should be oriented
in a manner to take maximum advantage of natural processes, rather than
attempting to work against such processes. Compatible and harmonious
blending of human activities with existing environmental conditions can
be highly beneficial to all concerned and will help prevent undue ecologic
perturbation. This permits a balancing of economic and ecologic considera-
tions, allowing selection of the final option with minimal ecologic damage.
This is particularly significant in coastal zones where population
pressures often trigger plans to "reclaim" marshes and swamps to provide
"beneficial" areas for the cultivation of essential food grain or cash
crops (high yielding varieties of rice or jute/cotton.
(7) A centralized authority solely responsible for controlling all
water-related activities and watershed management may be more effective
than numerous different agencies with overlapping responsibilities or
terms of reference. If several agencies must have specific water resources
management functions included in their mandated duties, formal agreements
should be implemented to forge the maximum cooperation between such agencies
and eliminate the duplication of overlapping functions.
(8) Labor-intensive field operations should employ local residents
of fast-growing rural and coastal communities to contribute reliable data
collection efforts. College or university students with time and
dedication to assist in ecologically sound national development plans
could readily acquire data collection s-kills and provide a valuable pool
of skilled researchers. Simplified training techniques can effectively
build up a large cadre of qualified workers capable of collecting and
compiling vital information and statistics. Their work should only be
spot-checked by technically-trained field supervisors. Field data could
be transferred to a central data gathering center on a set periodic schedule.
These simple steps would help create a comprehensive and valuable data bank.
(9) In transferring sophisticated modern water and ecologic research
technologies to the underdeveloped countries, emphasis must be placed on a
simplified approach with sthnulating audio-visual aids in the local language
and/or dialect, to ensure effective communications with rural populations

579

with low levels of literacy. Local artists and painters can depict
graphics with appeal and impact in many LI)Cs.
(10) To appeal to the poorer rural inhabitants of the LDCs, it is
essential to stress the benefits that are to be derived by the appli-
c tion of new techniques. Old customs and proven ways are difficult
to modify without strong fiscal, emotional or social incentives.
Specie@l emphasis must be widely publicized on the benefits to be derived
by imj@lementing new techniques being advocated. Frequently sound
resouiI;ce management techniques can be subtly integrated with established
custon11.
11
(11) It would be appropriate to advise trainees from the LDCs on
techniques for adapting sophisticated equipment and methodologies to
their@specific site conditions. This will enable them to utilize their
newly acquired skills in the most effective and beneficial manner.
Alternatively, skilled trainers from developed nations should be
instructed to adapt their advanced technologies to be effective within

the limitations of local skills and indigenous resources. Most AID
projects include some form of training program, and invariably trainees

from LDCs are brought to stateside institutions for acquiring resource
management skills. Unfortunately, when these individuals return to
their respective countries, they are often unable to apply the skills
they have acquired due to lack of the requisite tools and equipment
on which they have been trained. This becomes highly frustrating, and the
benefit of such training is soon lost.
(12) Coastal zone managers and planners in LDCs should be trained to
quickly identify similarities between local hydrologic and ecologic con-

ditions , and those prevalent in other countries. This will enable them to
extrapolate vital information from such similar circumstances to fill data
gaps in their local environs.
Only few of the main factors essential to a program for achieving
the goals of balanced and equitable distribution of inland and coastal
freshwater resources have been enumerated. A conceptual flow diagram
incorporating these elements has been developed by the author and is presented

Lg
at F:*Iure 22. However, hydrologic and ecologic problems and solutions
are m'ore complex than those depicted in this diagram. Suitable modi-
ficat ions of this approach can be tailored to suit prevailing local conditions,

580

Develop Accurate Establish Minimum Develop Empirically Develop Str ong and
Hydrologic & Ecologic 31, Coastal & Estuarine Derived Economic Evaluation--=:"Effective Standards
Data Bases Freshwater Needs of Coastal Resources & Enforcement

� Hydrologic Parameters e Diurnal/seasonal/ 9 Scrutinize basic assump- e Legislative action
annual variations tions utilized requirements
Precipitation runoff factors & Stress tolerance e Food-chain web inter- * Executive action
Seasonal variations boundaries relationships/costs requirements
Consumptive withdrawal by 9 Infrastructure
various sectors * Adaptation limits 9 Evaluate costs of inland development needs
Natural losses e Water supply options development benefits e Ensure adequate long-
Net inflows and alternatives * Evaluate costs of range fiscal
available potential benefits from allocations
coastal resources
� Ecologic Factors e Establish balance between e Stress utilization
Terrestrial plant & inland/coastal demands of indigenous
manpower and
animal species resources
U Coastal species & e Establish equitable water
needs resource allocation
Human developmental systems
needs 40

Establish Central Extensive Publicity Optimizing Water Use and Monitoring & Modi-
Coordination and and Training Ecologic Balance fication
Cooperation Programs
Mechanisms
� Regional Planning Cell 0 Mass publicity * Develop viable planning * Carefully monitor
� International pacts e Graphic presentation options short & long term
� Allocation commissions * Data dissemination 9 Ensure public participation impacts
� Monitoring & control agencies 0 Simplified training * Implement most feasible 9 implement changes
� Inter-agency memoranda 9 Grass-roots incentives projects as needed
of agreement e Record effective-
ness of modifi-
cations

Figure 22. Conceptual flow-diagram of a mechanism for water resources development and
ecosystem protection.

or may be geared to match indigenous resources and requirements. It is

highly recommended that further research in this field be directed towards

developing specific comparative analogies between select groups of rivers
and estuarine systems facing almost similar problems, in an LDC and in an
advanced nation. It is believed that this type of study may be of con-
siderable value in demonstrating the effectiveness of data extrapolation
technology transfer, and indigenous resource utilization.

582

LITERATURE CITED

Barclay, Jr., L.A. and Burrell, Jr., V.G., 1981. Santee-Cooper Rediversion
Project: Projected impacts on fishery resources and wildlife
habitats. Proceedings of the National Symposium on Freshwater
Inflow to Estuaries. Vol. II, NTIS-PB82-131434, pp. 463-473.

Benson, Norman. 1981. The Freshwater Inflow to Estuaries Issue.
Fisheries, 6(5):8-10.

Berggren, T.J. and Lieberman, J.T., 1978. Relative contribution of Hudson,
Chespeake Bay, and Roanoke striped bass saxatilis morone
stocks to the Atlantic coast fishery. Fishery Bull. USA,
(76):335-345.

Bouma, A.H. and Bryant, W.R., 1967. Rapid delta growth in Matagorda Bay,
Texas. Lagunas Costeres, Mexico D.F. UNAM-UNESCO, pp. 171-183.
Boynton, W.R., Hawkins, D.E., and Gray, C., 1977. A modelling approach to
regional planning in Franklin County and Apalachicola Bay. In:
C.A. Hall and J.W. Day (Editors), Ecological Modelling in Theory and
Practice. New York: Wiley, pp. 477-506.
Boynton, W.R., 1975. Energy basis of a coastal region: Franklin County
and Apalachicola Bay, Florida. Gainsville, Fla.: University of
Florida Dissertation.

Browder, J.S. and Moore, D., 1981. A new approach to determining the quantitative
relationship between fishery production and the flow of freshwater
to estuaries. Proceedings of the National Symposium on Freshwater
Inflow to Estuaries, Vol. I, NTIS-PB82-131426, pp. 403-430.
Brown, Jr., L.F., 1976. Environmental Geologic Atlas of the Texas Coastal
Zone in the Trinity-San Jacinto Estuary. Texas Department of
Water Resources Publication LP-113, p. 28.
Champ, M.A., Villa, 0., and Bubeck, R.C., 1981. Historical overview of the
freshwater inflow and sewage treatment plant discharges to the
Potomac River Estuary with resultant nutrient and water quality
trends. In the National Symposium of Freshwater Inflow to
Estuaries, Vol. II, NTIS-PB82-131434, pp. 350-373.
Clark, J., 1980. Coastal environmental management--guidelines for conser-
vation of resources and protection against storm hazards. Conservation
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586

Case Study Eight

THE ISLAND MICROCOSM

Edward L. Towle

SUMMARY

This study is concerned with the coastal resources of smaller,
offshore developing island systems. Perspectives on the nature, con-
straints, and implications of "insularity" are interwoven within an

analysis of the extensive literature on islands of all types. Classi-
fication strategies regarding the island universe are reviewed, as is
the possible instructional use of detailed studies of "island microcosms"
as models for comprehension of larger, more complex continental eco-
systems. A major conclusion is that smaller oceanic islands are suffi-
ciently different from continental areas to require customized, carefully
adapted, and more participatory kinds of resource assessment, planning,
development and management strategies, especially since islands tend to
be far more dependent on coastal and marine resources than continental
countries. Examples of island system gains and losses from the environ-
mental impacts of poorly planned, externally initiated development
projects are presented. Summaries are given of successful "model"
approaches to island coastal resource assessment, planning and manage-

ment.

The analysis examines the vulnerability, dependency, stability, and
ecological integrity of islands, principally within the context of ex-
ternally induced, rapidly implemented, and sometimes inappropriately
scaled and designed development initiatives that are often stimulated by
outside interests and factors. The significance of island coastal zones

and the use of their marine resources, along with the evolving theories
and practices of resource management, are reviewed. An attempt is made
to analyze and document the way in which insular systems respond to
stress and their customarily very short list of true options.
Study findings suggest the need for serious modifications of stan-
dard continental approaches to coastal resource management if they are
to be applied to tropical islands.

591

ISLANDS: FUTURE AND PAST

In the event of a nuclear Armageddon,
islands may well be mankind's only hope
for a future as the continents
will be uninhabitable.
(Anonymous, 1984)

The sea has long dominated the history of the Virgin
Islands. it has, until the advent of the air age,
been the only route to the outside. It has also
been a constant source of food and recreation. The
threshold to the sea that surrounds us is the shore-
line. The shorelines of the Virgin Islands have in
the past been used freely by all residents and visi-
tors alike. The seashore has been a place of recre-
ation, of meditation, of physical therapy and of
rest to Virgin islanders, past and present. To fish-
ermen the sea and its shores are a way of life. The
second half of the twentieth century has brought ad-
verse changes to the Virgin islands shorelines. There
has been uncontrolled and uncoordinated development of
this area.
(Open Shorelines Act, Title 12
of the U.S. Virgin Islands
Code, 1972)

The tidal wave devours the shore
There are no islands any more.

(Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1940)

In everything, respect the genius of the place.

(Alexander Pope,
Essays on Man, 1733)

592

INTRODUCTION

Continental Perspectives on Islands
In man's imagination, islands have always been lands of promise--prom-
ises of escape from the mundane to high adventure or an unknown delight.
Sir Thomas More located Utopia on an island in mythical seas. For those
who live on continents, the greatest attraction of the world's oceanic
islands is their detachment, both from the mainland and from mainland
routines. Crossing water to reach an island becomes a symbolic act of
leaving behind too familiar activities and unsolved problems.
Islands can be fun. They tickle the imagination; they conjure up
fantasies and dreams. They are wonderful places to visit, to study, to
poke about, and to write about. They are also fun to read about (remem-
ber Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, The Swiss Family Robinson by Wyss,
Goldings' Lord of the Flies, Hemingway's Islands in the Stream and
Melville's Typee, among others). Tourists by the tens of millions search
for them and artists and writers retreat to them, while ocean-going
yachtsmen and cruise ship passengers collect them as log or diary entries,
and natural scientists and anthropologists find them ideal "mini-labora-
tories"--neat, clean, comprehensible and Eden7like, with endemic,
symbolic "apples" ripe for academic picking from the insular tree of
knowledge! A genuine discovery perhaps awaits the intrepid island

investigator.
However, not everyone cares for islands. There are at least two
that Napoleon was not happy with (recall his: "...able was I ere I saw
Elba"!), and Papillon could have done without his private room on that
special green island in the sun off the coast of South America. Columbus,
too, was displeased when he found that islands had an annoying habit of
getting in his way en route to Cathay.
Similarly, larger, continental nations do not really appreciate them
because they are so small and "clutter up" the United Nations and other
international fora; the UN, in turn, has often found islands a trouble-
some lot, pleading special case circumstances, isolation factors, and
smallness as a disadvantage and arguing they are "different".
Nevertheless, with a few exceptions, islands remain a source of en-

593

joyment available to everyone, especially since there are so many of them
"islands, isles and islets" according to the U.S. Department
of State (Hodgson, 1973)--seemingly enough to go around to meet every-
one's fantasies and dreams of paradise, for exploration, study, or escape.
But things are not quite that simple--ask any islander about these
continental perspectives on his or her insular home for a contrary point

of view!

The flippancy of the above paragraphs is deliberate because it
reflects the often equally flippant, if not frivolous and wrong-headed
perspective of many continental people regarding the nature of islands.
How, they question in a condescending manner, can a small vacation spot
in the middle of the ocean or even along a coastline be a "country"? A
Club Med, yes; exotic, idyllic, nostalgic, backward, traditional, remote,
yes. But a real country, a full-fledged nation--impossible!
To a large degree, smaller oceanic and coastal islands have been
traditionally perceived by continental peoples as interesting but only
satellite appendages, frontier outposts, or recreational sites. Whether
colonial, territorial, or even politically independent, most smaller
islands are viewed by continental powers as marginally valuable and
marginally viable--as difficult, but exploitable geographical hybrids.
Islands of all types (coastal, oceanic or grouped as an archipelago)
have, therefore, historically been treated in a cavalier, even callous,
manner and have frequently been administered with general disregard for
the "niceties" of prevalent democratic theory, political morality, social
ethics, and--more recently--environmental principles or standards.
There is, unfortunately, in the mind's eye of many "mainlanders"
only a fuzzy, artificial island construct--part metaphor, part myth,
part fiction, part caricature that obscures, distorts and even, on occa-
sion, blinds the observer about what an island (or insularity) really is

and how it "fits" into the rest of the world.

For this reason alone, islanders are always at risk. The conti-
nental's skewed perception or island expectation model constitutes a one-
sided, conceptual barrier which further skews any transactional process
linking or involving the island system and the larger continental system.

594

There are other dysfunctional imbalances that characterize the large
vs. small or continental vs. insular relationship (which will be dis-
cussed later in this study). Yet this particular problem is sufficiently
pervasive and on occasion pernicious enough, when development planning
and resource management are addressed, to require an early cautionary
note for the reader. it may account for why island systems literature
and documentation, in the aggregate, is so diverse and inconsistent and
lacks both a unified theoretical and empirical base. There has been

little consensus -

1.2 Contemporary Pressures on Island Systems: An Overview
At the present time, thousands of islands are experiencing strong develop-
ment thrusts based chiefly on tourism, on extractive enterprises, on their
use as nodes for international air transportation and satellite tracking
networks, and on the increased demands for and upon local resources gen-
erated by rising affluence and expectations among rapidly growing island
populations. Additional driving forces include continentally based ini-
tiatives seeking waste disposal sites, deep-water petroleum transhipment
sites, cruise ship ports, offshore banking centers, low-cost labor for
materials processing and assembly, and expanded supplies of harvestable
high-value marine species (like tuna, lobster, conch, and certain sea-
weeds). The availability of multinational -and bilateral aid programs has

also contributed to accelerated development activities.
One by-product of this current development phenomenon has been a
dramatic deterioration of island coastal environments, accompanied by a
decline in the quality of life on islands, as measured by means other
than such traditional economic indicators as gross national product (GNP)
and average per capita income. On islands, as elsewhere, progress has
its price. As insular smallness confronts continental bigness in its
various manifestations, what are the prospects for islands and island
people? The pessimist well may say there is no hope, for island cul-
tures, environments, and ecosystems will be overwhelmed and fundamentally
changed if not destroyed. But for those who can say of an island (as
once did Rupert Brooke), "This is my home, my native land," the values of

595

smallness, isolation, self-sufficiency, and the insular condition have a
special meaning and promise. If islanders are uneasy, it is understand-
able. And if the process of change is to be managed and sustainable
island ecodevelopment is to become a reality, then the skills, expertise
and accrued learning of islanders, continental scholars and development
specialists need to be applied in the search for island growth, resource
management and survival strategies.
How urgent is the task? "Maybe you can afford to make a mistake on a
continent," warned Ray Fosberg. "The thing you damage or destroy probably
exists in two or three other places but almost every island has something
unique on it. Anything you do on an island makes a difference. You just
can't always tell what the difference is going to be" (Gosnell, 1976).
Aldo Leopold once reflected, "One of the penalities of an ecological

education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds. Much of the

damage inflicted on land is invisible to laymen." Unfortunately, in the
special case of the world's oceanic and coastal islands, much of the
damage being inflicted is invisible to almost everybody involved--ex-
cept the islanders themselves. As in the case of the old saying, "out of
sight, out of mind," insular remoteness obscures from all but a few per-
sons the burgeoning impact of contemporary continental pressures and
well-meaning but often ill-designed international development strategies
on small insular systems, their associated terrestrial and coastal en-
vironments and their human production systems.
Twelve years ago, an island biogeographer, Sherwin Carlquist, obser-
ved (1972), "Access to islands is far easier than it has ever been, and
island biotas, many relatively intact now, are going to be devastated
soon to the point where all we will have to study are shreds of the
marvelous fabrics of evolution that inspired Darwin and Wallace...."
"There is plenty of evidence," according to Bill Newman, Professor of
Oceanography at Scripps, "that almost anything we do on islands makes
them worse" (Gosnell, 1976).
The stresses and pressures of rapid population growth, unrestrained
development, and modern technology are partly responsible for the decline
of the environmental quality of island systems and their littoral zones

596

and for coastal zone competition and conflict among traditional and pro-
spective users. Another increasingly apparent cause of the decline is a
serious methodological failure in the omission of environmental resource
values in planning and development strategies. The principal question
now is how to incorporate environmental criteria to a far greater degree
in the modernization of island communities, as they are shaped by local
forces, transnational corporations, external market factors and by devel-
opment agencies involved in or responsible for external financial and

technical assistance in islands. A derivative of this has been the

procedural and technical failure of the development planning process to
comprehend or deal specifically with island coastal zone or marine re-
sources, use opportunities, conflicts, trade-offs, and externalities
(see Section 6-3).

1.3 Study Objectives
The primary objectives of this extended case study are to address the
questions of the verifiability and utility of the island microcosm
concept, to explore the theoretical and empirical underpinnings to the
concept of both island ecosystems and an island model or paradigm,
and to develop from the extensive literature and from several site spe-
cific analyses an updated set of rules for the design and implementation
of development projects in small island systems.

1.4 Antecedent Methodological Considerations
A "microcosm" is a diminutive representative world or system analogous
to a much larger system. It is not so much dwarf-like as it is a min-
iaturized replicate in substance, structure, and process. Assuming for
the sake of argument that islands are in fact a microcosm, a number of
questions arise. The most important one is, microcosms of what? Are
they microcosms of continents? Of inan-environment interaction on conti-
nents? Can a smaller island be seen as a microcosm of other larger is-
lands? Are they microcosms of closed systems or open systems (most is-
lands are viewed as closed systems but are they in fact open systems)?

Are they only microcosms of smaller, continental microstates, as Dommen

597

(1980b) and Jones-Hendrickson (1979) have argued? Or are they microcosm
models of the development and resource management process and therefore
to be seen as artificial or genuinely real laboratories of one or both
processes? Is the whole idea of microcosm simply an analog, a way to
describe the target area, a vehicle for analysis and evaluation, or is it
the result of a standard (perhaps naive) continental view of islands as
smaller, discrete systems that are more manageable for the resource
planner, the conservationist, or the development change agent? Alterna-
tively, are islands a true archetypal form of global real estate that
is only artificially and perhaps inaccurately assumed to be a microcosm
of other systems, whatever those systems might be?
If one assumes that, for whatever definitional, hypothetical or
strategic reason, some kinds of islands are a microcosm of something lar-
ger (insular or continental), then one also has to address the question
of how then to classify islands as microcosms. This immediately raises
the issue of an island taxonomy; and matters of size, of levels of de-
velopment, of economic structure, culture, ethnicity, dependency, com-
plexity (a single island vs. a multiple island grouping), linkages to
adjacent islands, archipelagic status, population, GNP, and other par-

ameters become important in some yet to be determined fashion.
This in turn raises other questions. Are islands really different?
What makes them so? Are the differences significant or secondary con-
straints regarding model transfer? Does the existing literature which
suggests they are scientifically and ecologically "different" (especially
when considered within that portion of the ecological framework called
biogeography) constitute a sufficient differentiation to require differ-
ent approaches in development strategies, different approaches in conser-
vation strategies and different approaches in coastal resource management
within such island systems?
If there is an argument for substantive differences, then how does
one conceptualize the development paradigm for islands? Do we have one
--or more? Should it focus on structural factors, on process, or on
intervention strategies to address the problems that have arisen from
the applications of continental development paradigms (like the market

598

system, central planning, free trade, or protectionism) to island areas?
Are the larger continental systems development models and practices
truly applicable to the insular microcosm? Is the relationship symmetri-
cal or not? If not, can we assume that the assymetry is disadvantageous
to islands (for example, through the one-way "brain drain" factor or
tilted terms of trade in commodities, technology transfer or economies
of scale and capital-intensive resource development, which all tend to
favor the more developed and/or larger system or country)?
Regarding islands' vulnerability or victimization, are these derived
solely from insular status? Is there a way to document (as per Hamnett
et al., 1981) a unique insular system vulnerability factor and to
document island victimization, dependency, and exogenously imposed
limits on options?
The island "coastal" model is obviously unlike all continental
"coastal" models (considered holistically). All islands have circumfer-
ential (surrounding) sea-land boundaries or coastal zones, whereas conti-
nental microstates do not. Is this "surrounding sea" an important or
vital variable? What does a surrounding sea or marine environment do to

an insular microstate model that it cannot do to a continental coastal

model? Lastly, how does the microstate model for an island affect the
treatment of satellite mini-islands on the periphery?
This litany of queries is not a checklist of what follows but il-
lustrates some of the complexities of what appears to be a simple assump-
tion--that islands are microcosms (of something) and that, by implica-
tion, some lessons learned in one or more islands are transferable to
someplace else. Since paradigms as approaches are less rigid than models
(and therefore less island-type specific), we put forward the a priori
assumption that the microcosm concept may lead to more effective custom-
ized models (for analysis or management), but that only the currently
emerging, more holistic, still transitional island paradigm can put the
microcosm" hypothesis to a proper test regarding both its validity and
utility.

599

1.5 Case Study Methodological Design
Behind the title of this case study, "The Island Microcosm," there are
two hidden assumptions. The first is that islands are microcosms of
some larger system (whether insular or continental is neither explicit or
proven). The second assumption is that any "microcosm" studied in detail
might offer some lessons that could be applied to islands, presumably
larger, or part or all of a continental system. There is some question
about whether or not islands can be models, in a microcosmic sense, for
continental areas (at least it has not been proven yet and is only an
hypothesis). It seems more likely that small islands might be microcosms
of larger islands. These in turn might be microcosms of continental

areas.

We have elected to focus on islands that exhibit characteristics of
true insularity in the form of isolation and smallness: smaller oceanic
islands. We choose this focus, recognizing that if the hypothesis that
islands are microcosms of continents proves invalid, there may still be
a high probability that the findings from the smaller island microcosm
universe could provide a model for larger island systems that are, in
turn, closely linked to continental systems. We have elected to study
the problem from the bottom up since medium to large size islands could
only be microcosms of continents, but small islands could be microcosms
of both larger islands and continents. Our principal focus is on de-
veloping oceanic islands smaller than about 10,000 km2, approximately
4,000 m12 (the size of Jamaica). We have excluded all the developed
coastal islands, like Great Britain or Japan, all very large islands
like New Guinea and Cuba and the larger conglomerates of multi-island
systems, like Indonesia and the Philippines.
A second rationale for selecting smaller islands is that the per-
ceived environment is totally insular, since there is no "interior." In
an island of approximately 10,000 km2 there is no point that is more
than approximately an hour's drive from the sea. The entire island and
the sea are closely linked under these conditions.
There are four separate elements involved in the following case
study analysis and report, the first of which is an historical overview

600

that examines the universe of islands, their characteristics, attempts
to classify them and conceptual problems in studying them. The second
element is to extract from site-specific examples what has been learned
from experience. The third is an overview of technical problems and
advances in insular resource assessment and coastal zone management. The
final element explores and evaluates the evolving experimental approaches
that have emerged over the past decade, leading toward a new island
paradigm (or a theory of insular systems development) that could be
empirically tested in the future.
This case study utilizes a variety of data sets: the existing
published literature on islands and island systems, only a small portion
of which has been cited and included in the bibliography; reports and
counsel from various expert consultants; direct site visits to St. Lucia,
the Virgin Islands and Fiji; and the extensive island reference files
(documents, reports, correspondence, maps, photos) maintained by the

Island Resources Foundation.

The principal sources for literature reviewed were the U.S. Virgin
Islands (Island Resources Foundation Library), St. Lucia (the St. Lucia
National Trust and the St. Lucia Central Planning Unit), Hawaii (the
East-West Center), Fiji (the University of the South Pacific, UNDP/CCOP/
SOPAC, and the National Trust), and Washington, D.C. (the Library of Con-
gress and the headquarters of the U.S. Man and the Biosphere Program).
It should be noted that although the literature available on islands,
published and unpublished, is rather voluminous, it is heavily biased on
the side of science and natural history material, and is more or less

deficient in areas of the social sciences.

The author would like to take this opportunity to make special
acknowledgment of contributions made by the following persons: Mr.
Robert Devaux of the St. Lucia National Trust (an engineer), Mr. Steven
Koester (an anthropologist), Dr. Jerome McElroy, (an economist from St.
Mary's College, formerly of the College of the Virgin Islands and the
Department of Commerce, U.S. Virgin Islands), Dr. Michael Hamnett from
the East-West Center, Mr. William Beller (engineer and chairman of the
U.S. Man and the Biosphere Directorate on "Islands and the Rational Use

601

of Island Ecosystems"), Mr. Cruz Matos (engineer and present director of
the CCOP/SOPAC group based in Fiji), Dr. Uday Raj (director of the Marine
Resources Institute, the University of the South Pacific, Fji), Mr.
Birendra Singh (environmental planner, Fiji National Trust), Mr. Allen
D. Putney (principal investigator of the Eastern Caribbean Natural
Area Management Program, St. Croix,), Ms. Judith Towle (public adminis-
tration specialist on international development, Island Resources Foun7
dation), Ms. Fran Roberts (who handled the onerous task of manipulating
the word processor to produce this report), and the World Wildlife
Fund-U.S. for its logistic support.

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2. STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM

2.1 Dimensional Considerations: The Universe of Islands

In the normal scheme of world politics, islands--especially small is-
lands--have traditionally lacked sufficient area, population, resources
and geopolitical leverage to count for very much. Although all of the
world's islands taken together have a combined land area of about three
million square miles (not including Greenland with 840,000 square miles),
they constitute only about five percent of the earth's total land area.
However, forty three, or approximately one-quarter, of the world's in-
dependent states (with membership in the United Nations and other inter-
national bodies) are wholly insular. Most of these (Table 1) are devel-
oping countries, with thirteen concentrated in the Caribbean, ten in the
Pacific, and seven in the Indian Ocean/Persian Gulf.

Table 1. Independent island countries.

1. Antigua-Barbuda 16. Iceland 30. Sao Tome and Principe
2. Bahamas 17. Indonesia 31. Seychelles
3. Bahrain 18. Ireland 32. Singapore
4. Barbados 19. Jamaica 33. Solomon Islands
5. Brunei 20. Japan 34. Sri Lanka
6. Cape Verde 21. Kiribati 35. St. Christopher & Nevis
7. China, Republic of 22. Madagascar 36. St. Lucia
8. Comoros 23. Maldives 37. St. Vincent
9. Cuba 24. Malta 38. Tonga
10. Cyprus 25. Mauritius 39. Trinidad and Tobago
11. Dominica 26. Nauru 40. Tuvalu
12. Dominican Republic 27. New Zealand 41. United Kingdom
13. Fiji 28. Papua New 42. Vanuatu
14. Grenada Guinea 43. Western Samoa
15. Haiti 29. Philippines

There are sixty two islands with areas greater than 4,000 square miles,
and 126 islands with areal dimensions larger than 1,000 square miles.
However, some very important isiands are much, much smaller, and many of
these smaller, formerly colonial island territories and associated states
have over the past decade or so opted for independence or are moving in
this direction and thus represent new factors on the international scene.

603

There are very few island countries that are essentially single is-
lands like Barbados, Sri Lanka, St. Lucia and Nauru. Some come in major
pairs like Trinidad and Tobago, St. Kitts and Nevis, Antigua and Barbuda.
Some occur in single country clusters or arcs or archipelagos like Fiji
with 322 islands or Tonga with 150. Others, as in the case of the Lesser
Antilles in the Eastern Caribbean, represent a multi-state cluster with
eight independent island nations in an area about the same size and with
the same number of individual islands as Fiji. The Seychelles in the
Indian Ocean has a hundred volcanic and coralline islands spread over a
distance of 1,000 km. The Maldives has a thousand islands, sub-clusters
of 19 atolls spanning an arc of 800 km, while Kiribati has 33 islands
but they are spread over five million square miles of the Central
Pacific. The Marshall Islands in the Pacific Trust Territories, with
1,156 islets, have a combined land area of only 70 square miles (smaller
than St. Croix in the U.S. Virgin Islands), each averaging only 39 acres.
By way of comparison, some continental countries also have extensive
insular resources. The United States has 29,000 islands, of which 6,000
are in Alaska and 2,000 in the Pacific Trust Territories. Panama has 700
(about the same number as the Bahamas); New Zealand has 500.

But for all of these and others, this is a time of change and tran-
sition. Within just the past two decades, the advent of jet air service,
containerized cargo technologies, mass tourism, satellite communication
links, television, multinational corporations, and geopolitical consid-
erations have each contributed to a rising level of interest in islands
among continental business circles, bilateral and international develop-
ment agencies.

2.2 Definitional and Conceptual Considerations
The dictionary definition of an island as being a body of land entirely
surrounded by water is not of much use. Australia and Funafuti in Tuvalu
both meet the definitional requirement. As a consequence, island group-
ings originated for convenience' sake by the user lack precision (for ex-
ample, wet, dry, high, low, tropical, arctic, small, poor, French,
Aegean, remote, atoll). In addition, there is a similar lack of preci-

604

sion which derives from a conceptual dualism; Fiji, for example, is both
a discrete point on a map and a country with 322 distinct islands spread
over 600 miles of ocean. The "point" approach is convenient but obscures
the reality not only of internal distances separating sub-units but
cultural and economic "distance" or differences as well. Secondly, the
discrete-point perspective tends to emphasize the center or core island
and downplay the periphery or satellite islands and how things are seen
from the "out island" vantage points. In effect, the "view" of the city
from the suburbs is very different from the reverse view. Two very

different perspectives are involved.
Another conceptual problem arises out of the natural scientist's
tendency to construct a more or less closed system model for isolated
islands because of the sea barrier. Unfortunately, from the perspective
of economists, planners, humanists, and other social scientists, islands
are highly open systems (Brookfield, 1980; Hamnett, 1981; McElroy, 1978b;
MAB, 1977; Villamil, 1971) and therefore vulnerable to numerous external
factors which limit and often override internal preferences, decisions,

traditional resource use practices, and strategic planning assumptions,
rendering facile projections invalid.
As early as 1971 it was noted that insular open systems planning
should be structured around the concept of contingency planning (Villa-
mil, 1971). Demas (1965) in The Economics of Development in Small
Countries, now considered a classic, noted the importance of modifying
development planning every year to consider changes in the external
sector or in the sytem's environment. This practice of course rarely

happens, and there is a tendency on many small islands to consider deve-
lopment plans as static entities to be modified every five to ten years
-whenever external aid funding is available.
The strong identity or sense of insular place which most islanders
have for their homeland, surrounded by water as it is, tends to produce a
collective inclination to see the island as a "closed" and secure system
like the scientist's insular ecosystem, but the realities of developing
islands as open systems induces an internal conceptual conflict often
reflected in island politics and life.

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2.3 The "Island System" Concept
Although some islands are more "open" than others, all are bounded by
the sea, and the smaller they are, the shorter the time frame for inter-
actions between human and natural ecosystems (and component terrestrial
and marine ecosystems), especially when external forces induce change.
For this study, development and its associated impacts are consid-
ered within the framework of an "island system" construct, a flexible
label that applies principally to islands or island groups and their as-
sociated natural, social, economic, and political systems. The "island
system" concept calls attention to the following facts.
It affirms that an island, even though it is small, is not
an homogenous, discrete entity, but rather an assemblage
of diverse subaerial and subaqueous ecosystems in upland,
littoral, sublittoral, and outer-shelf zones; most of these,
in the case of small islands, are included in the coastal

zone.

It stresses the importance of the interdependent linkages
among island ecosystems: impacts in one ecosystem will have
repercussions in another. Further, their areal extent will
not conform to convenient geographical or political boundaries,
like "land" or "sea". The concept also requires perception of
each island's relationship to and within associated island
groups, wherein artificial international boundaries and the
downstream pollution effect create resource management pro-

blems.

It suggests the need for a "biocybernetic" view of island
growth and development, wherein multiple feedback, effect-
to-cause "transformational" phenomena can be added to the
more linear, more "transactional" cause-to-effect phenomena
usually considered, especially in the linkages between the

human and natural ecosystems.
While technically interchangeable with the more flexible
term "ecosystem," it suggests the value of seeing an island
as an assemblage of ecosystems, preferring to consider multiple

606

island groups as clusters of island systems with a central
core and peripheral satellite islands, which may differ
appreciably within the cluster.

2.4 Understanding the Difference

Failure to understand distinctive differences between island and conti-

nental systems has often had unanticipated and undesireable results for
both private developers and public sector funding agencies engaged in
island development activities. Evidence of mistaken, ill-advised, in-
appropriate, sometimes naive development schemes abound in the island
world. Most failed, even though similar approaches had worked well in
continental systems, because of insufficient adaptation to insular con-
ditions and constraints, and reflect an antecedent conceptual failure to

see islands as different--and then to define those differences. Several

examples are illustrative of this point.
Costly groin, pier, dock and jetty facilities have been

literally washed away by "unanticipated" seasonal storms
(not even hurricanes). They were simply sited or de-
signed wrong for an island environment.
Costly sewage treatment plants, desalination plants, and
diesel/electric power plants not designed for island environ-
ments have deteriorated and failed prematurely.
Costly enclave-type tourism efforts, especially those designed
as sequestered, centralized, high-rise, "Miami Beach-style"
facilities, have failed to meet island development needs.

They overlook local employment, ownership, cultural exchange
and integration with other island economic development possi-

bilities, and many are under increasing pressure to "decentralize"
and become more integrated into island development planning
strategies.
Costly coastal zone management programs extrapolated from
continental models have simply not measured up to island

expectations or requirements.
Costly beach improvement/nourishment strategies have failed

607

for design reasons, based on an assumption that what worked

elsewhere would work in islands.

Standard sand and coral mining efforts have seriously damaged
adjacent beaches, coral reefs, and coastal environments and
adversely affected other sectors like fisheries and tourism.
Natural disaster relief activities, because of poor planning
and inappropriate scales and styles of intervention vis a vis
island areas, have often had a greater negative long-term im-
pact on the island system and its capacity for survival than
the cyclone, hurricane, flood or drought itself.

Most of these "failures" will resurface in more detail in later

sections of this report.

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3. INSULAR SYSTEMS: CLASSIFICATION AND CHARACTERISTICS

3.1 The Taxonomy Problem
The literature on islands abounds with partially completed or failed at-
temps to classify islands. The simpler approaches which distinguish be-
tween continental and oceanic islands, or between developed and unde-
veloped islands, or between wet and dry, or high and low, or large and
small tend to be essentially academic exercises that are of little use to
a development planner. More sophisticated approaches, which have gener-
ally dealt experimentally with island regional groupings or types focus-
ing on various small sets of characteristics like rainfall levels, soil
types, floral and faunal diversity and endemicity, population levels or
densities, and ethnicity, have not been of much help either and tend to
be equally academic. However, although they differ considerably, they
do perhaps represent the first step in the development of a full-fledged
taxonomy or classification system for islands as a unique geomorphic
type and a unique resource development and management problem.
Any attempt to classify the characteristics of small developing
island countries is not without its problems, especially in view of
their heterogeneity and the serious shortcomings in many of the more

basic statistics. But even leaving aside the statistical and descriptive

information availability problems regarding islands, there still remains
the separate issue of how to classify existing information about islands

into some taxonomic or even tabular format that will have utilitarian

value to the resource planner/manager.
As early as 1973, a thoughtful UNESCO document dealing with islands
as an element in the Man and the Biosphere Program (MAB) suggested that
11 an elaborate land classification (evaluating fluvial and coastal geo-
morphology, soil and water resources, etc.) would contribute to ...
planning future development of islands ... with a view to rational land
use (UNESCO/MAB, 1973). The report, entitled "Islands and the Ra-
tional Use of Island Ecosystems," went on to suggest four options for

classification:

609

1) Structural types
a) Continental islands (geologically defined)
b) Volcanic islands
c) Elevated coral/limestone islands
d) Low coralline islands and reefs

2) Climatic types by temperature zones, precipitation, wind
effects

3) Geomorphic types
a) The degree of preservation of flat structural or
erosional surfaces on the divides
b) The formation of foothills and foot slopes as well
as coastal lowlands
c) The existence of reef and lagoonal systems (in
tropical zones)

4) Biological types
a) Islands situated on a continental shelf (with biota
similar to the adjacent continent)
b) High oceanic islands with unique ecological communi-
ties usually limited and vulnerable
c) Atolls and raised limestone islands.

In the same UNESCO/MAB document (1973), an attempt was made to
use a three-tier breakdown of more developed, less developed, and unin-
habitated islands, but this was of limited use.
Best (1968), of the University of the West Indies, separates is-
lands into "metropolitan and hinterland (marginal) economies"; the
United Nations distinguishes between less developed and more developed
island areas; some scholars separate the "core" or central islands from
.peripheral" islands; and the United States government in an inventory
of its 29,000 islands makes a fuzzy distinction between coastal, barrier
and offshore islands (U.S. Department of Interior, 1970).
For the development planner, there is no master list or inventory of
islands displaying and categorizing the comparative characteristics of
island systems. There is, in effect, no universal system of classifying
islands -- no taxonomy of islands. Only the 1974 UNCTAD document on
@Developing Island Countries" is useful in this regard but it has not
been kept up to date.

610

3.2 Classification Approaches
Since there is no general island paradigm, i.e., a theory embracing the
nature of all insular systems, this has left the field wide open for

experimentation with classification frameworks.
Natural scientists (Fosberg, 1963; Dorst, 1972; Douglas, 1969;
MacArthur and Wilson, 1967; Wace, 1978; and Simberloff, 1974) generally
are in agreement that all true islands, as ecosystems, are character-
ized by the following:

relative isolation

limitation in size

restricted natural resources

limitation in organic biological diversity
reduced interspecies competition
0 natural protection from external competition and conse-
quent preservation of numerous bizarre endemic species
tendency toward climatic standardization
high vulnerability and a tendency toward equally high
instability when isolation is broken down
ecological fragility.
Similar investigations by social scientists (mostly economists and
geographers) (Dommen, 1980b; Dolman, 1982; Wace, 1980; UNESCO/MAB, 1973;
UNCTAD, 1974) collectively suggests the following socio-economic charac-

teristics of smaller island countries:
0 more dependent on foreign trade than large countries

and have less influence on the terms in which that trade

is carried on
0 a narrow range of resources and, hence, specialized

economies

heavily dependent on one or more large foreign company;
dependent for key services on external institutions
such as universities, regional training facilities,
banking and marketing arrangements
a narrow range of local skills and specific difficulty
in matching local skills with jobs

611

difficulty in providing some infrastructure
services as there may be costly diseconomies of
scale in the provision of such services
a small Gross Domestic Product and, hence, import
substitution industries may face special difficulties.
All small countries face most of these problems, but they appear
in an extreme form on small islands. Collectively, the characteristics
can be best summarized as economic dependence, whereby external circum-
stances and decisions have a far greater impact on the internal system
than do internal circumstances and decisions on the external system.
Little attention has been given to the following important and
unique characteristics of islands--as compared to continental countries:
(1) Islands (and only islands) have a completely circumferential
coastal zone and, therefore, a sea frontier and Exclusive Economic Zone
(EEZ) which totally surround the entire country or territory and no

land frontier. The only exceptions to this rule are occasional islands
divided into political units such as Hispaniola, Borneo, St. Martin,
or New Guinea. In this special case, the coastal zone perimeter bound-
ary is always longer than the inland land boundary or frontier (the
reverse being generally true for continental countries). Islands also
have a disproportionate ratio--favorable to islands--of the size of the
Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) to the island land mass itself (as compared
to continental countries).
(2) Island clusters (not continents) have no internal land transport
option to link the parts of the country and are restricted to sea trans-
port and air links.
(3) Small islands (unlike continental countries) do not have an in-
terior hinterland or central terrestrial core area that is essentially
distant from the sea. Therefore, for island states, coastal resource
planning and management is essentially synonymous with national resource
planning and management. (See Sections 3 and 8 of the Coastal Manage-
ment Case Study.)
In the above examples, islands are different in kind, not just de-
gree, from all continental countries. Furthermore, the facts that island

612

ecology differs from continental ecology and ecological principles de-
rived from continental ecosystems are insufficient to explain the eco-
logical relationships in islands have been well described by Fosberg
(1963), Carlquist (1965 and 1974), MacArthur and Wilson (1967), Dorst
(1972), and Mueller-Dombois (1973). Three important factors--insular
isolation, size and age (geologically islands are relatively recent in
origin)--in combination have biological consequences that are most
clearly developed on islands because they result in many unique
ecological relationships.
one unanswered question, however, is whether the island character-
istics discussed above diminish or limit the prospective utility of the

microcosm model. This remains to be tested.

3.3 Classifying Islands as Laboratories: The Ecosystem Model

In the world of the natural scientist, islands have long been considered
ideal laboratories--microcosms of larger continental situations or sys-
tems. Within the framework of an island, "the parameters of variables
can be readily defined, the behavior of variables measured, and external-
ities either controlled or disregarded" (Brookfield, 1980). It was the
more remote islands in the Pacific and Indian Oceans that, in the 19th
century, had an enormous and fateful impact on the minds of Charles
Darwin and Alfred Wallace, the fathers of modern evolutionary theory.
For nearly a hundred years after Darwin, however, investigations of
islands remained a descriptive science, accumulating a "wealth of infor-

mation on patterns of species distributions, on the composition of island
floras and faunas, on the taxonomic description of insular species and
subspecies and on the adaptations, often bizarre, of island creatures"
(Gorman, 1979). During the decade of the 1960's, however, island studies
underwent a transformation, perhaps triggered by the role islands

played in World War II but more likely the result of emerging paradigms
for ecosystem analysis within the natural science disciplines.
Institutionalized cooperative island study projects were mounted by
UNESCO (Natural Science Division), the U.S. National Academy of Sciences
and the Smithsonian Institution. In 1961, F. Ray Fosberg took the first

613

step in generating a new synthesis by organizing a Pacific Science
Congress symposium on "Man's Place in the Island Ecosystem" slid, in 1963,
by publishing the papers in book form under the same title. This seminal
symposium and book (reprinted in 1965 and again in 1967) launched a whole
new way of looking at islands, not only as .1 ecosystems" but as ecosystems
perceived, studied, used and modified by man. It was the first step in
the direction of seeing the island ecosystem as a laboratory, serving

both science and man.

Island ecology was transformed into a predictive science by the
publication of MacArthur and Wilson's Theory of Island BiogeogE@@ph
(1979), which argued that the number of species on an island is distinct-
ly correlated and is a direct function of the island area and its dis-
tance from the nearest island or continent and that on very small islands
the process of natural extinction is accelerated. More relevant to this
study is their assertion that "by studying clusters of islands, biolo-
gists view a simpler microcosm of the seemingly infinite complexity of
continental and oceanic biogeography. Islands offer an additional advan-
tage of being more numerous than continents and oceans. By their very
multiplicity, and variation in shape, size, degree of isolation, and
ecology, islands provide the necessary replications and natural 'experi-
ments' by which evolutionary hypotheses can be tested."
The "laboratory" notion and the "microcosm" concept, wherein is-
lands are seen as models of a wider complexity (continents, oceans, and
even the whole biosphere), are implicit or explicit in the work of
MacArthur and Wilson and became recurring themes in following years.
Carlquist (1974) observed that islands were both "great museums for the
biologist and remain the marvelous laboratories of evolution that Darwin
and Wallace found them to be more than a century ago. These laborato-
ries, however, have hardly been used, in comparison to what they offer."
When a UNESCO project on islands emerged the following year it presumed
that "islands could have an important laboratory function as places where
different theories of resource management are developed and tested for
subsequent application elsewhere" (UNESCO/MAB, 1973). By the early
1980's, the "continentally perceived" purpose of the laboratory had

614

changed somewhat, but Dolman (1982) suggested that small islands, for all
the problems and constraints which confront them, could become the labor-

atory in which alternative development strategies, shaped by the notion
of self-reliance, first see the light of day. The longevity of this
island "laboratory" notion confirms the point made above about how many

outsiders have and continue to view islands.

3.4 Changes in Focus: Islands As A "Special Case"
International concern regarding developing island countries, as a kind of
11 special case" of the development process, also first surfaced in a
serious way in the mid-1960's when a number of international institutions
began a search for a theory and a prescription for certain types of
.1 special circumstances" (within the international organizational frame-
work) to improve technical assistance programs to various kinds of "spe-
cial problem areas." For example, international organizations began to
separate out least developed or land-locked countries as needing special
attention, and strategic distinctions began to appear regarding least
developed, less developed and more developed countries. The concept of
Third World countries came into vogue as a classification, and eventually
some attention was paid to islands as a special case.
Only within the past two decades or so have most of the world's is-
land populations begun to emerge as subjects of specialized, systematic
resource analysis and of planning and management strategies, rather than
adaptations of traditional, continentally focused models (Fosberg, 1963).
This has involved an evolutionary process. As early as 1966 scientists
working with the International Biological Program (IBP), the Interna-
tional Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources (IUCN),
and the Pacific Science Congress articulated a concern for the conserva-
tion of certain Pacific islands through a series of conferences, sym-
posia, and resolutions which launched the "islands for science" program
(Nicholson and Douglas, 1970). Subsequent IUCN initiatives at a "SYM7-
posium on Conservation of Nature--Reefs and Lagoons," held in Noumea,
New Caledonia (August 1971), stressed the need for specialized ecological
guidelines in island development project planning, and noted the vulner-

615

ability of island ecosystems to disturbances arising out of human activi-
ties. The specific environmental impacts of tourism development on the
resources of coastal zones of certain Pacific islands were also given

attention.

Shortly thereafter, one of the priority study projects listed by
UNESCO's International Coordinating Council for the Man and the Biosphere
Program (a follow-up to the IBP) was designated "ecology and rational use
of island ecosystems" and resulted in publication of the MAB "Green Book
No. 11 on Islands," published by UNESCO in 1973. About the same time a
special "Group of Experts" was assembled by the Secretary-General of
UNCTAD (United Nations Conference on Trade and Development) to "identify
and study the particular problems of the developing island countries and
to make recommendations thereon" (UNCTAD, 1974). This was the first

full-scale attempt to examine the economic problems of developing island
countries within an international forum. Islands surveyed ranged in
size from a large archipelago like Indonesia, with about 100 million
inhabitants, to very small islands with only a few thousand inhabitants.
An attempt was made to classify the island countries and territories
according to various significant characteristics, and a further attempt
was made to identify certain key problems and the implications for
development policy.
The report from the group of experts was published by UNCTAD in 1974
"Developing Island Countries" and was followed shortly by a UNDP spon-
sored study of coastal development problems in the Caribbean (Towle and
McEachern, 1974) and by two IUCN initiatives, first a booklet on "Eco-
logical Guidelines for Island Development" (McEachern and Towle, 1974a)
and then an environmental management case study of the British Virgin Is-
lands (Howell and Towle, 1976).
Since 1974 the available specialized literature on island resource
development and management has expanded rapidly as is reflected in the
bibliography section of this study. Of particular note is a UNESCO/
MAB/UNFPA sponsored carrying capacity case study of the Lau sub-island
group in Fiji (MAB, 1977). The study's multidisciplinary team was headed
by Dr. Harold Brookfield, formerly of McGill University, and included

616

such eminent scholars as R.D. Bedford, T.P. Bayliss-Smith, Bernard
Salvat, Anne Whyte, J.B. Hardaker, R.F. McLean and other island special-
ists. The seven volumes of reports from this project, dealing with
population-environment relations, resources, and development, were pub-
lished between 1977 and 1980 (the last as MAB Technical Notes No. 13;
see Brookfield, 1980). They constitute a major point of departure for
any proposed insular resource management strategy in the future.

617

4. THE CARIBBEAN REGION: EXAMPLES AND LESSONS

Development projects, resource planning efforts and environmental manage-
ment strategies have, in recent decades, had an uneven history in island
systems, with fewer real successes than disappointments. The reasons be-
hind this pattern of development and technical assistance failures lie
buried in the experiences of those involved and in the historical web of
changing circumstances, options, constraints, events, choices, and im-
pacts. Post-audits can be helpful.
Two examples of coastal resource management problems have been
selected from St. Lucia and from St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands
group for detailed investigation. Each covers about the same span of
time--1960 to 1983. One (Rodney Bay, St. Lucia) involves a large-scale
development project and the effects of its induced environmental changes
on people. The other (the Mangrove Lagoon, St. Thomas) involves the
effects of incremental growth and people on an ecosystem. A non-
governmental, regional approach to Eastern Caribbean resource "eco-

develoment" is also reviewed in some detail. All three offer instructive

lessons within the Caribbean context.

Stretching between the atypical, oil-rich coastal island of Trinidad
(adjacent to the Venezuelan coastline) and the island of Puerto Rico (the
easternmost and smallest of the Greater Antilles group), there exists an
extended chain of smaller islands known generally as the Leeward and
Windward Islands or, collectively, as the Lesser Antilles. Within this
600-mile arcuate-shaped linear assemblage of islands, islets, and cays,
there are approximately 300 insular entities.of varying types, dimen-
sions, shapes, and levels of development. The largest is Guadeloupe at
710 square miles, but most are much smaller. Some are emergent volcanic,
high and wet; and some are raised carbonate, low and dry. A few are
combinations of both geomorphic types, and many are simply cays or rocks.
Within the archipelago, there are seven independent island countries
(Antigua-Barbuda, Barbados, Dominica, Grenada, St. Christopher-Nevis,
St. Lucia, and St. Vincent). Most of these have significant satellite or
peripheral islands and cays, some of which are habited but most are not,
at least on a permanent basis. Interspersed among the seven island

618

nations are eight other non-independent islands or clusters politically
linked to France, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, and the United

States.

Taken together, their cultural, linguistic, historical, ecological,
developmental, and human and natural resource endowment characteristics
vary enormously. All of the Lesser Antillean islands, however, are
small, have lost a disproportionate share of endemic species, and most
have been greatly modified by external influences (i.e., the colonial
experien ce, the plantation system, contemporary tourism, and imported
technologies).
As vestigial colonial ties began to weaken in the 1950's and island
political systems gradually became more self-governing, local govern-
mental bodies were faced with the difficult task of balancing competing
pressures for change. On the one hand, expanding populations, growing
unemployment, and rising social, economic, and nationalistic expecta-
tions created demands for development, employment, and services. On the
other hand, a marginal natural resource base, weak monocultural export
earnings, and a primitive infrastructure suggested other forms of in-
tervention and growth were needed. Some islands, like Barbados, sought a
way out of the dilemma by opting early on for independence. Others
waited, seeking time and external multilateral and bilateral assistance
as a "holding action." Still others took the opposite route altogether
by strengthening ties with parent countries in order to obtain needed

investment capital, grants-in-aid and technical assistance.
Regardless of the strategy selected, when the pace of development
activity quickened markedly in the 1960's, critical land and coastal
resource allocation questions arose regarding the landscape -- what and
where to develop or to preserve (and how), what constraints to apply, and
how to optimize growth in employment, income, exports, and earnings using
the indigenous resource base in company with external involvement and
capital, both public and private.
As a result, the period from 1960 to 1984 has been one of dynamic
change in the Lesser Antilles--witnessing several new oil refineries

and transshipment terminals, a dozen new seaports and airports, scores of

619

new marinas, hundreds of new hotels, thousands of new cruise ship calls,
hoards of tourists in the millions, tourism receipts in hundreds of mil-
lions of dollars, and petroleum production, refining, and transship-
ment of roughly a billion dollars. Since these are all coastal water-
dependent activities and all island cities and urban centers are sea-

ports, it is obvious that the coastal zone is the primary nexus of eco-

nomic growth in the Lesser Antilles. Less obvious is the environmental
price being externalized or deferred.

4.1 Rodney Bay Development, St. Lucia (1968-1984)
4.1.1 The Setting
An independent island state since 1977, St. Lucia is situated in the
Windward Islands of the Lesser Antilles (between Martinique and St.
Vincent). It has a total land area of 238 square miles (616 km2), a
population of approximately 124,000 persons, and in 1980 it had a gross
domestic product of US$80 million or $210 million Eastern Caribbean
currency (EC$2.6 = US$I). Over 30 percent of these revenues were de-
rived from the marine sector (sand mining, fishing, transportation, and
tourism) (Mitchell and Gold, 1982). It is a rugged, lush island with
steep mountains, mainly volcanic in origin. Relief is broken only by a
small plain in the south, eroded hills in the north, and several deep
embayments and harbors on the central leeward (westerly) coast. A new
international jet airport occupies the extreme southern tip at Vieux Fort
and a second older, lesser air facility is located at Vigie, adjacent to
the capital city of Castries.
The island possesses a relatively narrow nearshore, submerged shelf
area and several coastal islets. Maria Island (12 ha), a nature reserve
on the southern coast, and the former Pigeon Island (20 ha) off the
northwestern coast opposite the Village of Gros Islet, some seven miles
north of the capital, are especially noteworthy.
Since St. Lucia was formerly settled by the French and was cap-
tured, lost and recaptured several times by the British during the eight-
eenth and early nineteenth century colonial period, a French "patois" is
spoken widely (although the official language is English), and customary

620

place names are mostly French.
Traditionally, the people of St. Lucia have depended heavily upon
agriculture (mostly bananas), forestry and fisheries for a livelihood.
In more recent times there has been rapid growth in other sectors which
draw heavily upon various marine resources, especially port-related in-
dustry, sand mining, shipping, and tourism. Growth in tourism since
about 1970 has brought it from a relatively non-existent sector to one
contributing approximately 18 percent of the Gross Domestic Product.
St. Lucia has approximately 2,000 fishermen, although some are only
part-time participants, with over 400 boats producing an artisanal catch
valued at EC$45 million in 1981 and virtually all of which is consumed
locally. Village units of artisanal fishermen are common along the
leeward and southerly, more protected coastlines (Figure 1).
In the early 1960's, when the Government of St. Lucia sought to de-

fine a share of the Eastern Caribbean tourism traffic for itself, one of
the areas selected for resort hotel development was the Bay of Gros Islet
on the northwestern coast opposite Pigeon Island. At the time, the islet
and its associated shallow reef at the northern end of the Bay created a
superior, semi-enclosed and protected anchorage of considerable ecolog-
ical diversity, historical significance, and importance as a net, lobster

and conch fishing area used by fishermen of the nearby Village of Gros
Islet. Pigeon Island, the namesake of the village, was studded with
historical forts, batteries, and buildings dating back to the era of
Admiral George Rodney.
Reduit Beach, approximately one mile long, forms the southern half
of the Gros Islet Bay coastline with the fishing village of Gros Islet
located at the northern beach limit. North of the village, the rugged
coastline is formed by low cliffs and pebble beaches. Between Reduit
Beach and the volcanic peaks well to the east, a flat swampy area of
about 250 acres was maintained by surface water drainage from the
surrounding hills. Natural drainage to the sea was restricted by
Reduit Beach and its associated berm (Figure 2).
During World War II the United States leased and occupied the area
as a seaplane base for anti-submarine patrols, and some construction and

621

V
pigeo
CARIBBEAN Rodney "Is Ilan ATLANTIC
SEA Bay OCEAN

Castries

ST. LUCIA
MARINE
V RESOURCE USE

Fisheries:
V Conch
M A Lobster
Fin fish
Vieux Net
Fort Line
Pot
El Sand mining
0 * Coral harvest
NA Salt production
Tourism:
Marina
Anchorage

Sou rce:
Statute Miles Williams, 1979
Worthy, 1979.

Figure 1. St. Lucia marine resource use. (Adapted from Eastern Caribbean
Natural Area Management Program Resource Data Maps, 1980.)

622

POINTE D.cAP

Pigeon
Island %"r"

.Causeway
GROS ISLET
BAY

0- Gros Isl et Vi 11 age
Lagoon Entrance- '*.
Swamp/Lagoon
Reduit Beach-
Hol i day Inn
"w*-St. Lucia Beach Hotel

N
To
Castries 0
142 4.

Figure 2. Location map: Rodney Bay development project at
Gros Islet Bay/Pigeon Island area, St. Lucia.

623

considerable dredging were carried out at the site. The U.S. Navy at-
tempted to fill the swamp with about 200,000 cubic yards of sand hydrau-
lically dredged from an area immediately offshore at the southern end of
Reduit Beach. The deep borrow pits are still visible forty years later.
Because of the amount of soft silt that had built up over the years in
the swamp bed, the dredging strategy did not work as the heavy sandy fill
material compressed the underlying silt and gradually sank. By 1960, the
area was once again a swamp.

4.1.2 The Rodney Bay Development Project
The attractiveness and development potential of Gros Islet Bay (later
unofficially renamed Rodney Bay) captured the attention of a group of
Canadian investors. In 1961, with government blessing, they commenced

construction of the St. Lucia Beach Hotel on the palm fringed extreme
southern end of Reduit Beach, as far from the Village of Gros Islet and
as near to Castries and the airport as possible. The new facility was
ready to open by 1962. Six years later a second Canadian-owned resort
hotel (Holiday Inn) was planned for Reduit Beach--even larger than the
first--just north of the existing St. Lucia Beach Hotel (Figure 2).
However, there was a problem that delayed construction of this sec-
ond facility: tiny but bothersome, bloodfeeding insects known locally
as sand flies or "no-see-ums." Both the St. Lucia Beach Hotel management
and the prospective Holiday Inn developers complained to Government that
something had to be done about the swamp to the east, thought to be the
source of the sand flies. Their bites plagued visiting tourists in the
early morning and late afternoon to early evening hours, causing occu-
pancy rates to suffer. Insecticide fogging and spraying had not worked.
The option of draining the swamp was raised in order to eliminate the
breeding habitat of the pesty "no-see-ums" (Island Resources Foundation
files; Devaux, 1983).
The Government gave firm assurance to the hoteliers that something
would be done to alleviate the problem. But what and how and who would
pay for it remained to be established.
Nature may abhor a vacuum, but so, apparently, do engineering con-

624

tractors. By a mysterious process akin to osmosis a well-known Jamaican
entrepreneur, who owned a large marine dredging and construction firm,
appeared on the scene with an offer that "could not be refused." He
proposed a private sector solution to the government's "bug" problem at
Reduit Beach, one that would generate profits but only if his grandiose
scheme was accepted in its totality (Devaux, personal communication,
1983). That plan evolved as the Rodney Bay Development Corporation with
a projected investment capital requirement of EC$17,089,000. It included
the following development components:
To dredge the core of the swamp, filling border areas
with sea sand and open up the new "lagoon" to the sea
with a channel for yachts through Reduit Beach.

To create 88 acres of new flat land with a new mile-

long beach for additional tourist facilities by
dredging seabed sand from Gros Islet Bay and emplacing
it as a "causeway" on top of the shallow reef between
Pigeon Island and the main island, thereby doubling the

linear dimensions of Reduit Beach available for "devel-

opment."
To create and sell or lease marinas, residential and
condominium units on the newly filled "waterfront"
lots on the filled areas in the new lagoon (i.e.,
ex-swamp).
To accomplish the above through a three-way partner-

ship between the Government of St. Lucia, the [British]
Commonwealth Development Corporation (which would cover
the up-front capital costs as an "investment"), and the
Jamaican entrepreneur, who would provide the expertise
and dredging, road building, and other services (for
which he would be paid).
The project would comprise 1,311 acres (1,243 of which
had to be purchased), consisting of 650 acres of single
residential vacation/retirement housing units, 52 acres
of hotels, 80 acres of condominium/apartment units,

625

7 acres of commercial tourist "boutiques," 10 acres of
yacht club/marina facilities, 440 acres of green land,
lagoon, public beaches and roads, and 72 acres for
1. extension" of the Village of Gros Islet.
The project would require two years of site modifica-
tion and five to seven years of lot sales and develop-

ment.

The Government of St. Lucia accepted the proposed scheme; engineer-
ing studies and plans were completed by June of 1969; shortly thereafter
work commenced, i.e., temporarily surcharging or covering the swamp with
sea sand to compress the silty bottom, installing a rock/boulder barrier
from the mainland to Pigeon Island (behind which dredged sand could later
be safely deposited), opening up the swamp/lagoon by a channel cut
through Reduit Beach and re-routing the existing north-south road system.
But not everything went according to plan.
In 1970, as part of the attempt to create access from the sea to the
swamp behind the beach berm at Reduit, an effort was made to excavate

the entrance channel between the former St. Lucia Beach Hotel and the new

Holiday Inn. This, however, had to be abandoned when it was discovered a
ridge of hard rock extended underneath the beach berm. Blasting was
unfortunately ruled out, and in 1971 an alternative strategy was selected
which involved the dredging of a channel immediately south of the Gros
Islet Village. The siting of the channel south of the Village ended up
requiring the elimination of the bridge over the old swamp drainage
outlet between the Village and its cemetery, thereby cutting the Village
off from both its traditional burial ground and from direct access to the
existing hotels and the new "development area." The initial rock barrier
placed between Pigeon Island and the mainland, as an antecedent protec-
tive mechanism for the causeway dredge and fill activity, caused the
beachfront at the Village to collapse, thus requiring "nourishment" with
additional dredged material--a remedial strategy which, it will be
demonstrated below, failed over time (Stevenson and Hardtke Associates,
1973; Devaux, 1983).
However, the final phases of the site preparation, including the

626

dredging of over 2.5 million cubic yards of Gros Islet (Rodney) Bay sea-
bed coral sand to construct the 88-acre causeway, were completed by the
end of 1972. All that remained for the project to succeed was to sell or
lease the newly created or "enhanced" waterfront properties to amortize
the investment and generate new revenue. But, some fourteen years later,
this has not yet occurred. Not one sale, lease or option has been
finalized for the causeway area. Not one new hotel has been built.
There has been no deluge of buyers or leaseholders for the residential
sites in the new "lagoon", which is fairly attractive. Additional
capital investment (for further site improvement and remedial environ-
mental interventions), development, and marketing costs have mounted,
and the total is close to three times the original estimate. There has
been no appreciable return on invested capital, and carrying costs are
estimated at about US$2,000 per day.
There were other recurring costs of a different nature accruing to
the project and its environs. From an environmental impact perspective,
the development scheme for Rodney Bay is a rather classic case of both
good intentions gone astray and of "Murphy's Law" ("If anything can go
wrong, it will"). The following section summarizes a sequence of unan-
ticipated environmental impacts that help explain the failure.

4.1.3 The Short-Term Impacts

As part of a larger series of Eastern Caribbean investigations focusing
on coastal processes, erosion, sand mining, and regional beach control,
Deane et al. (1973) undertook a detailed study of the Reduit Beach area
in St. Lucia from 1970-1973. In the subsequent report documents, Deane
reported that the most signficant event that had occurred in this area
was the closure of the Pigeon Island passage which had resulted in the
following major changes in the littoral climate: 1) almost no new sedi-
ment is supplied to Reduit Beach; 2) there has been a significant reduc-
tion in the wave climate along the stretch of coastline between St.
Lucia Beach Hotel and the lagoon entrance near Gros Islet Village; and 3)
waves now approach the beach at almost right angles and consequently
southerly littoral transport, formerly driven by waves passing through

627

the Pigeon Island passage, has ceased. "One result of the first
change is that in the long term, erosion will be experienced over the
entire stretch of beach. As a result of significant changes in the
direction of wave approach in the medium term major losses will be
experienced in the southern half of the beach during periods of severe
wave attack" (Deane et al., 1973).
In 1973 the consulting firm which had prepared the original engi-
neering and design study for the Rodney Bay project was employed by
Rodney Bay, Ltd., of St. Lucia to examine the post-construction beach
stability situation at Rodney Bay. The study was prompted by various
complaints about modifications that were occurring to beaches and other
marine features in the area. The report by Stevenson and Hardtke Assoc-
iates (1973) noted that the causeway beach will "tend to change to some
degree over the next five to ten years, but this is not likely to create
a problem, provided the change is allowed for in planning." Concurrent-
ly, they indicated that "regular surveys of all Rodney Bay beaches are
recommended in order to insure that unexpected changes are noticed."
Shore erosion problems at the southern end of Reduit Beach, according to
the consultants, were solely the result of the offshore dredging carried
out in 1941 and the mining of sand from the beach during the 1960's for
aggregate and the removal of the sheet piling (installed by the U.S.
Navy in 1941) from in front of the southern part of the Holiday Inn
in 1970. The report concluded that any existing erosional problems were
1. not caused by the Rodney Bay construction, ... although it has markedly
influenced conditions in the area" (Stevenson and Hardtke Associates,
1973, emphasis added).
What the consultants were saying, in effect, was that the previous
extraction of perhaps a total of 200-400,000 cubic yards of sand and the
removal of a forty-year-old sheet pile wall had more influence than the
closure of the Bay entrance, the removal of 2.5 million cubic yards of
sand for the causeway fill, plus the removal of more than a million cubic
yards for the surcharge and fill strategies for the swamp area.
The most interesting part of the study is its endorsement of the
need for costly remedial actions, involving the installation of a gabion

628

blanket near the St. Lucia Beach Hotel costing EC$100,000, the instal-
lation of an offshore breakwater near the southern end of the Bay costing
EC$300,000, possible installation of two stone groins at the point where
the causeway beach and Pigeon Island connect in order to attempt the res-
toration of the former Pigeon Island natural beach. The study also sup-
ported the need (given the modifications in Bay circulation caused by the
installation of the causeway) for any new sewer outfall serving future
tourist facilities to extend at least 2,000 feet from the nearest shore-
line. The outfall recommendation was deemed necessary to take account of
the new flow conditions, new bathymetry, and new wave regime--yet no cost
estimates were cited (Stevenson and Hardtke Associates, 1973).
By 1975 the beach at the Village of Gros Islet had deteriorated,
causing the village council to protest to the Town and Country Planning
Unit, suggesting that the existing lagoon entrance south of the Village
was "an eyesore." The Council complained that the encroachment of the
sea on the bay front created a hazard, and that the sandy beach which
was expected had not materialized. In the opinion of the council, these
problems were a direct result of the works carried out in the creation of
the causeway (Devaux, 1983).
Changes were not limited to the main island. For more than three
hundred years the westerly side of Pigeon Island had a rather beautiful
1,000-foot-long, 40-foot-wide yellow sand beach. The foundations for a
rock pier constructed by military engineers in 1782 still survive and,
until the causeway was built, produced a minor widening of the beach
area at the point where the 1782 stone dock was constructed. In
1969, two years after a new timber-pile jetty was constructed on the
eastern side of Pigeon Island as a dock for visiting boats, the rapid
build-up of sand to the south rendered the jetty more or less unuseable.
Rapid shoaling occurred at the extreme outer edge, indicating a sand
deposition phenomenon and slow littoral sand transport from south to
north in the area. By 1970 when construction activity began for the
causeway, Reduit Beach began experiencing serious erosion problems.

Pigeon Island was not affected by these events until the closure of the
gap. However, when the gap was closed in 1971, the sand on Pigeon Island

629

beach began to shift noticeably toward the east. At that time, accurate
measurement profiles of the Pigeon Island beach were taken for the first
time (Devaux, 1983). By 1972, when the causeway was completed (almost a
year later), a yellow sand strip or streak began to appear along the
white coral sand on the artificial causeway beach, matching the color of
the sand at Pigeon Island. Within six months it had traveled 1,000
feet along the causeway toward the mainland; Pigeon Island was apparently
losing Its only beach to the causeway beach.
The St. Lucia National Trust, a quasi-governmental body responsible
for developing Pigeon Island as an historic site and national park, was
properly concerned. By 1976, however, the beach had virtually disap-
peared and, despite sequential protective and remedial engineering
strategies (e.g., gabion baskets, groins, and armor stone emplacements),
all at great expense to the National Trust, only the northerly segment
of the former beach had stabilized (Devaux, 1983).
In the meanwhile, the causeway itself has been "stabilizing" (to use
the consultant's term)--or eroding (to use the disinterested observer's
term)--at a loss rate of 14 feet per year since 1974. The original 88
acres are now down to perhaps 75 acres. When and if it will truly "stab-

ilize" is an unknown. Whether investors can be attracted to build hotels

or condominiums on a dynamic, not yet stabilized, artificial tropical
island beach Is also an unknown. What has happened as a result of the
causeway and associated Rodney Bay dredging activity to the adjacent
artisanal fishing Village of Gros Islet, however, is not an unknown.
It is a matter of record and a cause for concern.

4.1.4 Impacts on the Coastal Fishing Community at Rodney Bay
Gros Islet, St. Lucia, is a small fishing village for which there are
dozens of replicates within St. Lucia and hundreds in the Caribbean re-
gion. Before the Rodney Bay project, Gros Islet bore a resemblance to
coastal fishing villages on all inhabited oceanic islands, such as
those in the Lau group of Fiji described in detail by Brookfield and
others (MAB, 1977). To illustrate how this has all been changed, we have
elected to explore in some detail the metamorphosis of the village-based

630

fishery at Gros Islet.
Prior to the Rodney Bay project, Gros Islet had three seine nets
exploiting the resources of the nearby reef and coastal environment.
Each seine had a full-time crew of four to six men responsible for cast-
ing the net and maintaining it. In addition, between 15 and 20 people
regularly accompanied the crew to pull. Another shifting group of
approximately 15 to 20 villagers would pull on a given day in ex-
change for at least a substantial portion of their families' daily
food requirements. A crew member's share served as his daily wage, and
the shares distributed to the regular pullers were also essential sources
of income. In theory, the distribution of a day's catch was: 1/4 to 1/3
to the net owner, 1/4 to 1/3 to the permanent crew and 1/2 to 1/3 distri-
buted among those who pulled. In all, each net had between 40 to 50
people working on it daily in exchange for varying amounts of income and
subsistence. The size of the work force fluctuated with the seasons, the
quality of the previous day's catch, and weather and sea conditions
(principally wind and swell).
With the advent of Rodney Bay Development, this fairly stable system
was undermined and destabilized. Dredging the Bay, digging the lagoon
channel, and building the causeway destroyed the usefulness of the seine
fishermen's two principal beaches. The causeway cut the Gros Islet Beach
area in half. The dredging left borrow pit edges or underwater cliffs
that would snare large beach seines when cast. It also released mud and
sediments into the water, destroying sea grass and coral fish habitats.
The causeway also blocked off the current and, according to the fisher-
men, a main "path" for schools of jacks and mackerel which they pre-

viously caught.
All three seine owners abandoned fishing as a result of this drastic
environmental alteration, and their cotton nets all spoiled. Eventually,
one of the three experienced seine fishermen bought a nylon net and began
casting at the Cariblue Beach some distance to the south. He was follow-
ed by two net owners from Anse La Raye (south of Castries) who also began
fishing there.
This new arrangement left three nets (from two villages) sharing one

631

beach and resulted in a reduced daily catch from the seines and a reduced
demand for labor. Instead of three separate groups of people pulling
each seine daily, only one group was needed. In addition, because the
Cariblue Beach is located outside the village, a large portion of the
catch no longer comes through Gros Islet but is instead shipped directly
to Castries by van. Before, with three nets being used close to the
village, fish were more plentiful and, with over 100 people (sometimes
150) getting a share daily, the catch was efficiently and widely distri-

buted to meet local needs.

Gros Islet's seine fishing was also an important source of fresh
bait for fishermen trolling the banks northeast of the island, especially
during the bottom fishing seasons, July to November. It was common
before the development to sell bait to over 20 canoes a day during the
bottom season. As seine fishing has diminished in Gros Islet, these

fishermen had to find more direct alternative sources for bait.

A still unfolding further development illustrates the current pre-
dicament of Gros Islet's seine industry. Until recently, one local
fishermen with a "ti-seine," (small [petite] seine) had been casting his
net on beaches that the larger seines cannot use, including the remaining
part of the Gros Islet Beach and along part of the causeway. But even he
has emphasized that net fishing was much better before. "Before we were
a fishing village, everyday we were taking kawang (carang) and jacks
especially in this season now but the barricade blocks off the fish"
(Koester, 1983).
Rodney Bay development destroyed or eliminated the most productive
parts of the seine fishermen's environment, cutting their daily produc-
tion by two-thirds and diminishing the daily work force requirements by
about the same amount. According to one of the net owners, "From the
time of the causeway I haven't had a really good year. Before if I had a
son I would encourage him to come and help me with my seine. Now I
wouldn't do that. There is no future in it" (Koester, 1983).
The use of both wire and the more traditional bamboo fish pots was
the second major fishing method employed by Gros Islet fishermen at the
time of the Rodney Bay Development project. Some men specialized in this

632

single technique, others combined it with additional methods and others
(like farmers, craftsmen and day laborers) set fishpots as a part-time
occupational pursuit. Before the development about 30 Gros Islet fisher-
men relied principally on setting pots inside Reduit Bay, in the area of
the causeway and north of the causeway up to Cap. Setting pots on the
nearby reef area and in the bay provided all fishermen with a secure
inshore component to their overall strategy, thereby spreading the risk.
It involved the least effort and provided sustenance and income when the
sea was too rough or the weather too bad for other kinds of fishing.
The Rodney Bay Development Project adversely affected pot fishing by
destroying nearby areas previously used by fishermen and by impeding
their access to more distant areas they previously used and continue to
use, but now at a greater cost. Dredging destroyed fish habitats where
men had set pots, and the mud and fine sand particles released while
dredging the bay and swamp continue to hinder the efforts of pot fisher-
men. The causeway itself obstructed their access to fishing areas north
of the village. "The causeway kept me back a lot, I used to set pots
there. Before I rowed my boat and used a sail, now I have to buy a
machine to go around Pigeon Island. And its not just me, its kept back a
lot of fishermen," reports one village resident (Koester, 1983).
The Rodney Bay project has therefore raised the cost and effort re-
quired for Gros Islet pot fishermen, and many pot fishermen have left
fishing altogether. Some sold their boats to Frenchmen, a lot left the
sea and went on shore for a job. Another concludes, "Before the cause-
way, I never left the sea but after that I can't depend on the sea

alone."

The Rodney Bay project occurred at a time when several new fishing
technologies were being introduced in St. Lucia. At Gros Islet only two
men had engines; the rest were still rowing and sailing. The three
seines were all cotton. There were only two bottom gill nets and no
trammel nets. Only one man was diving with a tank, and the use of dyna-
mite was infrequent. Since the completion of Rodney Bay the old tech-
nologies have given way to more modern ones. Engines are used on both
canoes and chaloupes, the seines are nylon, there are more bottom nets,

633

and diving with tanks is widespread (Koester, 1983).
When the Rodney Bay project began, some Gros Islet fishermen were
able to secure jobs in its construction. For example, it was reported,
"A lot of fishermen quit to work on the causeway, the whole area was
white with mud, there were no fish so there was nothing else to do." This
alternative, however, was short-lived. Before the Rodney Bay project
over 100 Gros Islet men earned their living from the sea. Estimates of
the number of active fishermen now range from 30 to 50 (and many of these
are part-time). The adverse effects of Rodney Bay Development for fish-
ing, combined with the options it offered in construction, changed the
occupational focus of many Gros Islet men.

Up until the time of the development project, lobster and conch were
both present in the area of the causeway and also around Pigeon Island.
The Bay itself had extensive sea grass beds. The fishermen of Gros Islet
and the St. Lucia fisheries office agree on this. But all three--lob-
ster, conch, and sea grasses--have now virtually "disappeared."
Before the Rodney Bay project, tourism seems to have played a more

visible and reliable role in the livelihoods of Gros Islet fishermen.

Tourists were able to walk from the Reduit Beach hotels to the Village
and arrange for boat tours. Somewhat nostalgically, one fisherman
recalled, "We used to take tourists to Pigeon Island. We didn't have
engines then so we'd row them or take them by sail. We could always make
a few dollars from it. Now the tourists catch big transports [tourist
buses] and drive right around us" (Koester, 1983).
Fishermen also claimed it was possible, before the project, to
catch lobster nearby and.sell directly to the St. Lucia Beach Hotel and
the Holiday Inn. Since the development, the nearby hotels buy from all
over the island because the local supply is now "unreliable."
Frequently, when discussing the causeway, the fishermen of Gros
Islet Village will use the term "barricade." One fisherman reports,
"Gros Islet was the net fishing center. Since after they put up the
barricade the place is dead." From the perspective of the village, its
cemetery has been destroyed and the channel was made in order to separate
the people of Gros Islet from the tourists. "I believe they didn't want

634

much black people to meddle with the white people. Now we can walk to
Pigeon Island but before we could walk over the bridge to the cemetery
but now they've built the marina there. They didn't want the people in
the midst of the whites" (Koester, 1983).

4.1.5 Retrospective Conclusions
The central idea of developing the Rodney Bay area as a multi-purpose
(hotel, condominium, marina) site had merit. But the development plan
was fundamentally flawed and produced serious problems when implemented.
The project scheme did attract external investment capital, expand the
tourism industry's infrastructure base in St. Lucia, provide some new
employment opportunities (although primarily short-term), and is probably
economically viable for the owners or investors over time. But as de-
signed and implemented, and in the absence of any serious impact assess-
ment or mitigation planning (even by 1970 standards), it produced a num-
ber of serious negative effects. Far too many unanticipated social,
economic, and environmental costs resulted, and the project, in retro-

spect, was a failure, especially since the full accounting of environmen-
tal disbenefits (losses) is not yet finished. Three fairly obvious
categories of failures overwhelmed the original scheme and placed it at
risk. These failures are summarized below, not to be retroactively
critical but because experience is still the best teacher and there are
positive lessons to be learned.
1) Conceptual Failures. There was a general conceptual failure to
appreciate the magnitude and complexity of the project and its aggregate
consequences if done in one "fell swoop" instead of in stages. The
evidence now suggests (after the fact) that the Rodney Bay tourist
facility and land development project could have been accomplished
without installation of the causeway and would have produced a better
outcome. The causeway "component" of the scheme was costly, has re-
turned no revenue and has induced numerous unanticipated, negative
environmental effects on the natural and human ecosystems. The Gros
Islet bay, beach, swamp, and village "system" was subjected to several
sequential devastating modifications, almost simultaneously, with no

635

attempt to assess the impact of the first stage before moving ahead on
later stages.
Three distinct and major ecosystem disruptions were involved:
0 conversion of the fresh water swamp to a saline
system.by cutting a deep channel (it would have
been better to cut not one but two) for enhanced

flushing and to reduce the sand flies
0 dredging of Gros Islet Bay sand for surcharging the
swamp and then converting the core of the swamp to
a lagoon marina system with filled shoreline areas

and road access for residential and commercial

use
0 closure of the Pigeon Island passage and massive

dredging in Gros Islet Bay for causeway fill emplace-
ment which has had (and could have been predicted to
have) fairly dramatic oceanographic, biological,
and socio-economic impacts--mostly negative--on the

ecosystem.
Had the swamp/lagoon modifications been followed by an even brief
period to allow the system to stabilize and to allow for an assessment of
impacts (providing feedback), it is likely that a decision would have
been made to abandon the final "causeway stage". New market conditions
and problems, community concerns, and environmental lessons learned in
the first phases would have been evident, arguing against proceeding as
planned with the causeway. Grand and complex schemes, hurriedly modify-
ing equally complex island coastal ecosystems, are often pre-programmed
routes to an economic failure, if not an environmental disaster.
The rule of thumb should be "when in doubt, stretch it out," even
though this involves resisting the "can do" inclination of getting the
job finished, producing immediate results, and moving the money--all
very efficient and legitimate concerns under smaller, less risky coastal
resource development circumstances.
A second conceptual failure by those who originated and sanctioned

636

the project was their inability to perceive the marine biological system
at Gros Islet Bay, the artisanal fishery, and the Village itself as
resources" which were unofficially committed to the project and which
would be modified by it. The traditional users of the area became in-
voluntary, reluctant partners in the venture because they fell within the
11 natural boundaries" of the project, although not within its official or
legal boundaries as shown on planning documents.
In the absence of any integrated development planning protocol, this
narrow perception of the project led to a failure to assess the nature and
value of the resources being allocated--perhaps inadvertently and irre-
vocably--as an investment in the Rodney Bay development scheme. For
example, the former coral reef at the Pigeon Island passage, now buried
under the causeway, was taken out of the St. Lucia natural resource
"bank" and invested in the project. It can only be recovered in kind,
and even that prospect of re-payment is in doubt -- in part, because,
after the fact, one can only infer what it was worth in terms of pounds
of fish, lobster, or conch, in employment, and in natural shoreline
protection (i.e., as an annually renewable free input to the economy of
the Village of Gros Islet and of St. Lucia).
There were also a variety of other failures, some systemic (and
those can be avoided in the future only by external compensatory actions)
and some technical (that can be eliminated by modifying or applying
higher or different standards or using alternative methods).
2) Systemic Failures. The political decision-making process, i.e.,
the political system, as an ongoing process of interactions between elec-
torates, institutions, and leaders, is inexorably inclined to optimize
short-term, sectoral development aimed at generating employment, invest-
ment and income in a problem solving mode within the shortest possible
time frame. This is a simple fact of life, but especially risky when the-
developmental "quick fix" involves the allocation of small island coastal
resources, usually involving complex, closely coupled dynamic natural
ecosystems with an overlay of an equally closely coupled human ecosystem,
constrained by both the insular vulnerability and limited option factors

characteristic of smaller islands.

637

There is, however, another aspect of this systemic failure of the
governance process. Insular dependency on externalities, like invest-
ment capital, technical assistance, grants-in-aid, and specialized en-
gineering expertise (particularly marine) means that political leader-
ship must also listen to a variety of different, exogenous drummers.
The conjuries of development planning schemes and tempos (generally
faster in the private sector, slower to funereal in the public) resulted
in a Janus syndrome of trying to look inward and outward at the same
time for signals or guidelines. In the process, coastal ecosystem de-
velopment planning gets short shrift--project boundaries are too con-
strained, planning is both hasty and narrow, schedules are too tight to
allow for feedback adjustments, resources are damaged, and costly sur-
prises are endemic. Rodney Bay presents a classic example of this
particular dilemma of "getting on with it" vs. "getting it right" (i.e.,
minimizing losses and optimizing gains); it is a problem that can only be
ameliorated, not eliminated.
3) Technical Failures. Relying on engineers and economists to de-
sign a project like Rodney Bay was akin to planning a hospital without
consulting with either the medical staff or user groups. In effect, a
narrow engineering/marketing solution was sought and applied to a de-
velopment task that had other equally important, non-engineering dimen-
sions, namely, severe modifications to the natural and human ecosystems.
Missing was the design perspective and technical expertise of natural and
social scientists who, collectively, could and should have dealt with the
unfortunately unaddressed matters of natural and human resource assess-
ment. Issues deserving attention included documentation of traditional

local uses and their economic and social significance, ecosystem charac-

teristics, and project environmental impacts.
Other technical failures or omissions included cutting the Village
off from its cemetery and its customers for tours and boat trips,
dredging too close to the shoreline, not fairing the edges of the dredge
borrow pits, not maintaining a beach profile monitoring program (although
the engineering consultant recommended one in 1973), not working out an
employment strategy for the Gros Islet villagers (who were prevented

638

from fishing during the project), not including a proper sanitary waste
-water sewage outfall disposal strategy for projected tourism facilities
in the planning, not anticipating the causeway erosion phenomenon, and

not being responsive to obvious negative feedback signals from the dis-
turbed ecosystem. These all were project design failures more than
performance failures.

The final failure, perhaps the most significant, is really a by-
product of all the conceptual, systemic and technical lacunae discussed

above.

Over historical time, the Gros Islet community had struck a balance

with nature. It had learned how to survive the vicissitudes of isolated
island living, not just by fishing (which it did well) but also by learn-
ing to spread risk and adjust to seasonal catch cycles for various
species. The community had developed ways to reduce vulnerability by
internal diversification (mixing farming and fishing) and to limit depen-
dencies on external markets by "substitution." It had developed an
unwritten but proven and practical "optimum sustainable yield" resource
management strategy for harvesting living marine species, which were
within economic range. It embodied two or more centuries of experien-
tially derived, collective information about the dynamics and stock of

nearby coastal resources. As a West Indian community, it had come to
terms with insular constraints, natural hazards (especially hurricanes
and drought), and the vagaries of exogeous factors such as fish hook and
net pricing, energy costs, spare parts availability, and "outside"

markets for fish catch. When the St. Lucia Beach Hotel was built on the

southern end of Gros Islet Bay, the community (wholly without assistance
from tourism planners or commercial operators) adapted what it knew well

to develop a new economic activity requiring no new capital investment,

i.e., transporting tourists to historic Pigeon Island or to visit other
local marine "things" within the area like the adjacent reef. Fishermen

built their own boats and wove their own fish pots out of local material.
In short, the Gros Islet community was a viable, fairly self-sufficient,
productive fishing unit with low-level requirements for input from the
state and from the external cash/market economy of St. Lucia and beyond.

639

Villagers had few requirements for energy, capital, and technological
imports from off the island; their "dependency index" was low.
It is clear that Gros Islet was a village community which possessed
its own technically autonomous culture while maintaining itself as a
marine-oriented coastal society with a fairly "complex" production
system. This is true, even though in a classical sense, Gros Islet was
and still is a marginal and "peripheral" community vis a vis the more
advanced dominant core systems in Castries or beyond. Even as a marginal
or peripheral (albeit archaic) social unit, the Village was economically
important (like other villages along St. Lucia's coastline) both to the
national center and to other marginal units and production systems. It
knew how to produce, to nourish, to sustain, to survive, and even to
grow. It had established its own definition of the "rational use" of

insular resources.

What the people of Gros Islet had not learned and did not know was
how to deal with a Rodney Bay development intrusion. Not that they saw
0
it as intrinsically "bad" or "good"--only that it represented a totally
new threat and opportunity, frightening and promising all at once.
Island villages like Gros Islet, even in the face of development
schemes like the Rodney Bay project, are not, of course, totally help-
less. They may survive on their own adaptive terms as villages and as
"less" productive, less efficient (more marginal) communities within the
terms of national planning and development activity, but in either case
they and we confront the same two questions: what of value is there
already that could be lost in the process of modernization and growth,
and how can the production system be sustained and losses minimized?
Failure to address these questions more often than not leads to
later costly losses requiring remedial strategies and interventions. In
this instance, there is no known remedial action that will recover what
was lost. What was will never be again; no engineer can "fix it" or make
it right. St. Lucia inadvertently sacrificed a living coastal village
on the altar of tourism to exorcise a small, pesty bug. Unfortunately,
there are still sand flies lurking in the bush at Rodney Bay, and the
causeway remains an empty, unused expanse of sand.

640

4.2 Virgin Islands Mangrove Lagoon (1967-1984)

4.2.1 Introduction

The southeastern coast of St. Thomas is endowed with a large, singu-
larly attractive mangrove lagoon and bay of exceptional natural value.
Its water, mangrove and grass bed systems traditionally provided a rich

nursery area for fish and a productive habitat for benthic biota. Its
mangrove fringed shores are a natural buffer against shore erosion,
floods and hurricane waves. The coast's configuration provides a protec-
tive anchorage for boats and its adjoining hillsides are popular residen-
tial areas for Virgin Islanders. The area is filled with scenic con-
trasts, manglar islands, rocky cliffs, ponds and panoramic ridgelines.
Its diverse complex of natural communities provides a recreational
opportunity for Virgin Islanders. Yet these very attributes have at-
tracted so many people in recent years that the same elements which first
attracted them to the area are now being degraded.
Traditional uses of the "Mangrove Lagoon" (its official and generic
names are the same) have included fishing, crabbing, clamming, the cut-
ting of mangrove wood for charcoal and boat timbers, and serving as a
protected anchorage for local boats, particularly as a hurricane refuge.
Since the 1960's, however, development of the watershed and shores has
proceeded virtually unchecked. Upland slopes, valleys and flood plains

were bulldozed for two shopping centers, thousands of residential sites,
and roads. Mangroves were cut and buried by backfill to create marinas,
docks, a sewage treatment plant, roads and a racetrack. Coastal salt
ponds were also filled. More people and more boats (Figure 3) created a
need for new service facilities, i.e., more fresh water, more power,
more roads, more parking, more docks, sewage treatment plants, and
septic tanks. These, in turn, have reduced hillside vegetation and
created higher residential. and commercial densities resulting in more
runoff, erosion and pollution. As pressures for development mounted, a
series of environmental problems were created, and the Lagoon's tradi-
tional ecological values and functions were threatened.

The following are some of the stresses and impacts currently im-
pinging on or present in the "Mangrove Lagoon."

641

500

400-

LU
300-

200-

10 ..

1947 1958 1965 1972 1976 1983

a. Boats in Mangrove Lagoon-Benner Bay.

1100- U)

15-

to
900-
0
C3'\ . ...
12-

700 -
Ui
9-

0
500-
< 6

300-

100 .......
........ ...
....... ..

1947 1954 1958 1965 1972 1982 1960 1970 1975 1980 19 8 4 (e s t
b. Residential units in Mangrove Lagoon- c. Population in the Mangrove Lagoon, Benner
Benner Bay. Bay and watershed.

Figure 3. Trends in number of boats, residential units, and population in the Mangrove Lagoon-
Benner Bay area. (Modified from Nichols and Towle, 1977b.)

sewage pollution from anchored boats, sewage treatment
plants, local septic tanks and shore establishments

*release of toxic trace metals from a municipal dump and
boat yards, and local debris scattered around lagoon
margins and watershed

*discharge of petroleum products, i.e., oil, gasoline
and grease from boats, shore spillage, bilge discharge

*declining water quality, i.e., high turbidity, low
transparency and low oxygen content, and rising indices
of coliform bacteria

*growths of filamentous algae associated with high nutrient
pollution loads

*sedimentation associated with storm runoff from the water-
shed and shoaling of the lagoon floor with formation of a
black mud blanket

*disturbance of vital mangrove habitats by bulkheads,
dumping and landfill to create dock space, berthing
facilities and useable land

*loss of productive inshore clam and fishing grounds
and reduction in vitality and diversity of bottom biota

*restriction of drainage with loss of flushing capacity
and stagnation of backwaters favorable to mosquito
breeding

*shoaling in the entrance channel which limits boat
traffic and, in turn, marina use and economic
viability.

Figure 4 schematically displays these current stresses and impacts
in relation to contemporary lagoonal uses.
What is most notable, however, is not that the Mangrove Lagoon has
deteriorated in an accelerated fashion but that this has happened within
the context of a full spectrum of well-funded, well-intentioned, regula-
tory and control mechanisms, of planning, zoning, permitting, research
and environmental assessment procedures, and after 1978 a formal Virgin
Islands coastal zone management program designed and funded by the U.S.
federal government.

643

LAGOON STRESS and IMPACT

Wastes, Flooding and
neatmen Sediment
Sediment plant Excess input
input,
Nutrient
-Landfill U.
rain. 1 .7 !np
Boat
d
Pollution
Eutrophicali
W
as
disposal
Turbidity
Shoaling :..V%'LLond`- Restricted
Mang es fill -drainage
cut
%At Tu r b i d'i y'
co
Deb;7',"'I'@

bri

Erosion and
Sediment input

LAGOON USES

WATER RECREATION

RESIDENTIAL

MARINA
Dredge
and Fill mimin BERTHING

ANCHORAGE
EM NAVIGATION ZONE
meters 50 EM STORM REFUGE
RACETRACK

Figure 4. Schematic summary of stresses and impacts on the Mangrove Lagoon and
Jersey Bay area, St. Thomas, 1983. (Modified from Nichols and Towle,
1977b .

644

What went wrong? What can be learned from the labyrinth of emerging
interactions between the users, the planners, the managers, the off-

island exogenous factors and forces, and the natural ecosystem? It
would appear that the management system was overwhelmed. Was it for

internal or external reasons?

What follows is a fairly detailed description of the metamorphosis
of an island lagoon/watershed system undergoing rapid change. It sug-
gests that we can learn from experience, and it demonstrates that good
intentions and local legislation, research and planning are not always
enough to prevent the degradation of an island ecosystem in the face of
externally generated and funded development pressures. It also stands as
a kind of biography of an insular ecosystem that has inadvertently been
pushed beyond its natural carrying capacity threshold into a new behavioral
mode of a highly stressed, man7-modified system requiring continous human
management inputs of a costly and remedial nature.

4.2.2 Description of the Lagoon System
The Mangrove Lagoon with its contiguous passages, bays and backwaters
forms a triangular estuarine system 2 km (1.2 miles) long and about 1.3
km (0.6 miles) wide overall. Because the shores are very irregular the
average width is less than 0.5 km. The system lies in a northeast-
southeast trending fault zone of sedimentary fill at the mouth of
Turpentine Run, the largest perennial stream on St. Thomas. Mangrove
fringed islands and shallow waters form an embayment in the coast which
contrasts with the pattern of steep, rocky headlands and narrow sand or
cobble beaches along the rest of the south coast of St. Thomas.
Together with Cas Cay and Patricia Cay, Bovoni Cay separates the
Lagoon from Jersey Bay and the sea creating the quiet water necessary for
extensive mangrove growth and the development of a safe harbor for small
boats. Table 2 summarizes the geographic and hydrographic dimensions of
the Mangrove Lagoon and Benner Bay.
Since the Lagoon is linked to the sea and to the watershed, contig-
uous upland drainage basins or "watersheds" and the waters of Jersey Bay
are also considered. The standard geographic element is the ecosystem,

645

Table 2. Summary of geographic and hydrographic dimensions for the
Mangrove Lagoon and Benner Bay systems. (Source: Nichols
and Towle, 1977b.)

Mangrove Lagoon
Parameter (including passages) Benner Bay

Length 1.6 km 0.4 km
Width 0.35 - 1.0 km 0.15 - 0.30 km
Water Area (Mean Low Water) 614,339 m2 128,891 m2
Water Area (Mean High Water) 809,471 m2 135,607 m 2
Water Volume (below MLW) 805,675 m3 160,394 m3
Mean Depth Overall 1.3 m 1.3 m
Maximum Depth 3.2 m 2.2 m
Mean Tide Range 0.27 m 3 0.27 m
Tidal Prism 191,238 m 35,713 m 3
Shoreline Length (MLW) 1,374,641 m 13,201 m
Watersheds (total surface) 12.7 km2 0.8 km2

embracing all the biologic and physical components in the Lagoon which
act together as an ecological unit; no single part of the system operates
independently. The concept of a "coastal ecosystem" employed herein
is that defined by Clark (1977) as including "... (1) a defined water
basin (or series of interconnected basins), (2) all marginal (shoreline
transition areas, and (3) all shoreland watersheds that drain into the

coastal basin."

The lagoonal complex involves a series of ten ecological zones or
units. These units are all linked by the flow of water and other human

use. Table 3 summarizes attributes of these zones and their relative

position with respect to each other, to water depth, and to distance
seaward. Proceeding from greatest elevation, they are: the upland Tutu
Valley area, a primary drainage basin called Turpentine Run with cactus
and secondary scrub growth, the high tidal flats and salterns which are
dominated by the b lack mangrove, the several ponds and inner lagoons
which are edged by the red mangrove forest and swamp. There is also an
open-water lagoon which contains turtle grass flats and manglar (barrier)
cays. Between Bovoni Cay and Patricia Cay and between Patricia Cay and

646

Table 3. Ecological zones of the Mangrove Lagoon (from Nichols and Towle, 1977b).

ECOLOGICAL ZONES
UPLAND BLACK RED R E D SEAO
MANGROVE MANGROVE MANGROVE

MLW

ATTRIBUTES DRAINAGE HIGH TIDAL PONDS A INNER MANGROVE OPEN WATER, GRASS BEDS MANGLAR BARRIER PASSAGES, BACK
BASIN FLATS LAGOONS FOREST & LACOON & (LAGOON) CAYS ISLAND ENTRANCE REEF FLATS
"SALTERNS" SWAMP BENNER BAY THALASSIA CHANNELS

41
AREA IN
ACRES 3,334 10.7 14.34 49.9 183.0 11.0 4.5 15.3 14.8 10.4

WATER DEPTH Range Range Range Range Mean Mean Range Range Ranqe Range
OR 0 to 260 0.2 to 0.4 0.1 to 0.3 0to 0.3 1.3 0.8 0 to 0.3 0.3 to 2.6 0.2 to 3.2 0.1 to 0.3
ELEVATION

DRAINAGE OR Partly Covered Red Mangrove.
FLUSHING Intermittent on Spring & Slow Covered with Slow to Slow to Covered by Rapid Drainage Moderate Rapid
Storm Tide water most of Moderate Moderate Normal Tides
year

SUBSTRATE OR Gravelly Clay Clay & Silt Organic Mud,
BED SEDIMENT Loam Muck Peat Sandy Mud, Muddy Sand Peat, Sandy Mud Sand Sand Rubble, Sand
Muddy Sand Sandy Mud

DISTINCTIVE Dry Forest Barren or Bird and Forest Cover, Plankton Confinement, Nutrient Pro- Storm Barrier, W "9" @ onn Barrier,
ECOLOG
IrAL with Oactus, Algal Wildlife Nutrient Habitat, Nursery Habitat, duction, Shore Sand Storage Feeding e. Sediment Trap,
CHARACTER A Secondary Snrubj Covered Habitat Production, Feeding and Production, Stabilization, Feeding Area
FUNCTION growth Shore Nursery Area Nutrient Storage Sediment Trap
Stabilization

the mainland are entrance passages that lead to the back reef flats at
the several "false entrances" (open but too shallow for boat traffic due
to coral reefs). Much of the circulation for the Lagoon comes across

these shallow reef systems in the form of wind driven currents.

The lagoon system acquires some of its water and much of its sedi-
ment from the upland watershed or drainage basin. Because the Lagoon is
linked to the watershed, changes in topographic and flow characteristics
of the watershed affect many functions in the Lagoon itself. Fresh water
inflow governs the salinity of lagoon water which, in turn, affects the
types of organisms in the Lagoon, their distribution and abundance. Ad-
ditionally, the amount of sediment, nutrients, organic debris and some
pollutants carried into the Lagoon is determined by stream runoff. These
materials affect lagoon water quality, sedimentation rates, and plant
production.
The drainage basin receives an average of about 40 inches of rain-
fall annually, but as much as eight inches has been recorded from a sin-
gle 24 hour storm. Annually runoff amounts to only two to eight percent
of the rainfall. The drainage system of the Mangrove Lagoon and Benner
Bay consists of four sub-basins (Figure 5). Most stream channels are dry
and carry only intermittent storm runoff. The Lagoon receives drainage
conveyed through small guts or washes, through local culverts, and
through a major stream channel--Turpentine Run. Most runoff in Turpen-
tine Run infiltrates the soil and alluvium (Jordan and Cosner, 1973).
Only major storm runoff, resulting from infrequent rainfalls totaling
more than four inches, reaches the Lagoon as surface flow.
Intense development in the upper drainage basin of Turpentine Run
(the Tutu area) has increased the potential for flash flooding into the
Lagoon. By destroying the naturally absorptive soil and vegetation cover
with construction of roadways, parking lots and roofs, and by lining
stream beds with concrete, flood water from torrential rains is delivered
to the Lagoon quickly (Nichols et al., 1979a). Most watershed sediment
so supplied to the Bay is fine-grained silt and clay, and by remaining
suspended in Bay waters the fines degrade water transparency.
Prior to 1968, flood drainage from Turpentine Run entered the La-

648

e5 IT -- @2i
..............:..................
....................................
.................-
.......................
............. .....
..... . ..........
;Awl ........... ...
AN' .................
.................. ....

N
............ ..............
.... TUTU
::A
Np .... REA
.........................

........ ............
..... .................................. . .......
... ........
......................... -:::--
............
%
4: . ... .....
........... . ...... ..................
.... .......... . ............. ..........
...... ......... . .. . .....
...............
.............
TURPENTINE RUN 8 SLN': ................... ...................
...............
...........
................................ BOVON I ............
......... ..........
............
....... ................ ::::: ............ . .........
.......... .. ..... ............
........................ SIN**--
...... ...... .
BA .....
.................. .:::::::
..................
::BENNER
...... ........
............ .............. .. .....
....................... .................... ............
... ..............
:::NULL IBERG H:M: ........ PBASIN
.................... . .....
::H-BASIN::::::::: ...
Wzjr
-50
N ..........
.............

... ..........

. ......... .......
4b
r

...........

......................
MAN49RO VF
LAGOON
...........

H
DRAINAGE BASIN

DENSE DEVELOPMENT

ROAD

Figure 5. Drainage basins of the Mangrove Lagoon and Benner Bay,
with areasof dense residence.
(Source: Nichols and Towle, 1977b.)

649

goon through two or more vegetated distributary channels across an allu-
via delta with mangroves. These shallow channels and the mangroves acted
like a filter to cleanse the runoff of sediments and debris. When fill
for a potential horse racetrack was dumped on the delta in 1968, drainage
was short-circuited through a single channel directly to the Lagoon
(Figure 6). Thus, the cleansing action of the distributaries was lost.
Some lagoonal circulation is wave driven. As waves enter Jersey
Bay, they "feel bottom" and are refracted into gently curved patterns
with crests more or less parallel to the bottom contours (Figure 7).
Because of the narrowness of the west entrance channel and protection
provided by Manglar Island and adjacent shoals, waves do not enter Benner
Bay under normal conditions. Bovoni Cay excludes waves from the Mangrove
Lagoon proper.
Although tidal forces are small compared to wind and wave transport
over the reef, they are the most persistent force over the long term.
They are also the main force during periods of light weather, a time when
11 worst case" conditions for exchange and flushing of pollutants develop.

4.2.3 Historical Development
The narrative begins in 1961 when the territory of the U.S. Virgin Is-
lands entered into a dynamic period of rapid expansion and economic
growth (stimulated almost exclusively by external factors) in three
sectors--government operations, light manufacturing (assembly) exports,
and tourism. In the case of tourism, growth rates were exponential,
measured in tourist arrivals and accommodations. Massive U.S. govern-
ment funding was also made available for public housing, roads, educa-
tional facilities, sewage treatment plants, health care and other human
services. Additionally, U.S. tax incentives favored external invest-

ment in the Virgin Islands.
As a result, between 1960 and 1980 the population of the Virgin
Islands doubled, and the employed labor force tripled. Electricity
demand increased at an average of 20 percent per year. Thousands of new
individual housing units were built. Public housing for 20,000 residents
was constructed utilizing federal funding. A new 750 thousand barrel a

650

e-,

TURPENTINE RUN

BENNER BAY

11W

Jtt'%@
:W,
v 211

@Wp
-, &
PATRICIA CAY', Y
CA

LONG
A
FALSE ENT ANCE

Figure 6. Aerial photograph of the Mangrove Lagoon and Benner Bay taken by the National Ocean Surve
November 23, 1972. (Source: Nichols and Towle, 1977b.)

LA:0061
ft AD

AS S
A.

A -",
AS 0"ON
'o

AP AS
o

@OUFASS
POINT

&AY
A.
"AcH
14

soo I..

SAUT MILES
PAr A
"PPAPICIA C AY
r#4.cf
NO

ME-11 'CILIMIM11-

WAVE REFRACTION PATTERN

Figure 7. Wave refraction pattern for easterly swells reproduced from NOS aerial
photographs of 1958 and 1974 (from Nichols and Towle, 1977b).

day oil refinery was sited on St. Croix (one of the three major islands
within the territory of the U.S. Virgin Islands), adjacent to a new
bauxite processing plant. Most standard indices for the Virgin Islands'
economy had literally taken off, and the territory became increasingly
dependent upon the mainland. As McElroy and Albuquerque (1983) have
noted, "... the tourism base became pervasive ..., new ties were forged
with national travel, financial, and transport interests..., federal
social service and regulatory programs were institutionalized... [and]
manufacturing activity (petroleum and aluminum refining) tied the terri-
tory inextricably into the global energy and raw materials markets."
Although attenuated by the mild world-wide economic recession of the
early 1970's, the process of accelerated growth has been sustained at
only a slightly reduced level through the present time.
Sometime in 1967 the Governor of the Virgin Islands determined that
the existing St. Thomas airport at Lindbergh Bay, on the island's south-
ern coast near to the capital of Charlotte Amalie but removed from most
major beaches and resort hotels, was unsafe and unsatisfactory and that a
new international airport that could accommodate larger jet aircraft
should be constructed at some alternative location. Engineering studies
by off-island firms recommended that a new airport be constructed on the
south shore of the Mangrove Lagoon on the easterly end of St. Thomas'
shoreline. This would be accomplished by leveling Patricia and Cas Cays
and Long Point and filling in intermediate reefs and the false entrances
to build a runway which would have a more or less east-west axis, extend-
ing into 50 feet of water in Stalley Bay (Figure 8). It was a major
engineering undertaking.
At the time no attempt had been made to assess the environmental
impact of the proposed jet airport construction, and a bitter controversy
in the community emerged which lasted the better part of two years. The
resulting public debate evolved into rancorous polarization between
the so-called growth vs. no-growth factions, between the environmental
purists and the developers concerned with jobs, the economy, and human
resource development.
Local opposition to the proposed airport resulted in the letting of

653

angrova ?)P N
JERSEY t

Lagoon NB. The acreaae shown is for the
U1
minimum land, in the govern-
B AY ment's estimation, re-
quired for airport con-
159.0 struction.
acres

Patricia as
750 RUNWAY a

0 1100 0
fept

Figure 8 Mangrove Lagoon runway orientation for proposed St. Thomas jet airport, 1968.
(Source: Tabb and Michel, 1968.)

a contract by the Governor's Office to the University of Miami in Feb-
ruary of 1968 for a preliminary environmental assessment which resulted
in a survey of the floral, faunal and hydrographic features of the Man-
grove Lagoon. The consultants' report (Tabb and Michel, 1968) can be

summarized as follows.

1) Turbidity from the silty clay component in the hill masses sche-
duled to be excavated and used for runway site fill would affect the
entire bay area and, if prolonged, could have serious ecological conse-

quences.
2) The construction of the airport would require paving over massive
portions of the adjacent hillside areas, resulting in accelerated fresh-
water runoff in times of heavy rainfall, which would further aggravate
pollution problems and result in nutrient enrichment (including sewage).
3) High water clarity and the natural seawater circulation were
absolutely vital to the continued biological well-being of the Bay.
4) To conclude that conditions within the Bays might be improved by
the addition of nutrient materials such as sewage was an unwise assump-

tion.

5) The circulation pattern of the Mangrove Lagoon and the western
part of Jersey Bay was dominated by the water transport induced by break-
ers on the shoals between the mainland and Patricia Cay and Patricia and
Cas Cays. Transport from these breakers flows into Jersey Bay and the
Mangrove Lagoon, overcoming the normal tidal flows and owing its exis-
tence to a rare combination of topography and wave characteristics
coupled with a diurnal tide of a very small amplitude.
It is understandable that the Virgin Islands Governor's Office was
unhappy with this report. An effort was made to seek a technological
solution to the problem posed by the closure of circulation along
Patricia and Cas Cays by the proposed airport project. An engineering
consultant suggested the possibility of establishing an artificial wave
run-up ramp and empondment on the seaward side of the projected runway,
with a tunnel or sluiceway to be constructed under the airport runway
itself. Such a scheme would -theoretically maintain the pattern of water
flow into the Lagoon and thereby maintain the normal circulation regime

655

within the Lagoon itself (Michel, 1970).
At the same time, as the public debate continued, a worried voice
was heard from a new direction, namely, from the island of St. John which
lies immediately to the east of St. Thomas and directly under the path of
the projected take-off patterns for the larger jets which would use any
new airport at the Mangrove Lagoon. The U.S. National Park on St. John
and a luxury resort hotel at Caneel Bay, St. John, were uneasy and
quietly requested a U.S. Department of Interior, Fish and Wildlife Ser-
vice study team to visit the Lagoon to provide further documentation on
its ecological value.
The study team reported that "the Mangrove Lagoon is easily the most
significant [mangrove] area remaining and is, in fact, very near the only
stand of appreciable size that remains in the American Virgin Islands."
They also found that "the Mangrove Lagoon is in fact the major remaining
habitat in the northern U.S. Virgin Islands for about twenty species of
herons, egrets, and other waterbirds and an equal number of wintering and
migratory species." The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Survey experts expressed

concern for the loss of habitat for waterbirds that live on Cas Cay and
the adjoining waters of the Mangrove Lagoon, noting that encroachment on
their habitat had already brought the population of many of these birds
to extremely low levels (McNulty et al., 1968).
The administration was sufficiently confident with its position on
building an airport in the Mangrove Lagoon that it purchased the land at
Long Point, the focal point of the proposed facility. It also estab-
lished a Port Authority so that it would be in a position to build and

manage the new airport. However, the Governor was to discover that it
was easier to decide to build a new airport than to find the money to
construct it. During the ensuing, rather extended, delay yet another

study of the Mangrove Lagoon, involving nine months of field work, was
carried out by the research arm of the local college, the Caribbean
Research Institute. The final report from this survey (Grigg et al.,
1971) more or less coincided with a year long down-turn in tourist air
arrivals and with acknowledgment by the administration that it had not
been able to identify the necessary funds for airport construction.

656

The environmentalists and most residents of the Lagoon area were
elated, assuming the Mangrove Lagoon was now out of "danger" since no
new airport would be located there. But the government purchase of a key
parcel of land at the Lagoon was a harbinger of other things to come
--other incremental kinds of change and new pressures to "use" the now
government-owned land in the Lagoon, if not for an airport then for
whatever was convenient. Further, the territory-wide accelerated growth
pattern, especially for the island of St. Thomas, was rapidly subsuming
the Mangrove Lagoon and its watershed. Local planning, resource manage-
ment, and environmental protection agencies were simply overwhelmed by
the process of change. They were unable to deal with the pace and mag-
nitude of growth, landscape alteration, and resultant environmental
impacts generated by outside, off-island factors and funding.
Between 1970 and 1971 the number of boats in the Lagoon had doubled
and a new full service marina (Antilles Yachting Services) and three new
bare-boat chartering operations had started up in the Benner Bay area,
with construction just beginning at another marina at Compass Point.
At the northern end of the Lagoon, a fair-sized residential community was
developing, serviced by a 70,000 gallon7per-day sewage treatment plant
operated by the Virgin Islands Public Works Department,.with its al-
legedly treated effluent draining into "polishing" ponds near the
Lagoon's edge. At the other end of the watershed, in the Tutu Valley
area, a massive residential and commercial building boom was under way.
The population of the drainage basin, which had been about 4,000 in 1960,
had doubled by 1971. No one foresaw that it would almost double again
by 1980, reaching 15,000 persons (nearly one-third the population of St.
Thomas). This substantial growth would also eventually spur demand for
several new sewage treatment plants (funded largely by the U.S. govern-
ment) and thousands of septic tank installations in both the coastal and
more remote watershed housing units and smaller commercial establish-

ments.

Local environmental agencies had been concerned for some time about
the problem of how to handle domestic and commercial sewage and waste
water from burgeoning new "point sources" in the Lagoon watershed area.

657

Signals from the Washington-based federal agency concerned with terri-
torial "sewage problems" favored a "treatment" instead of a "disposal"
strategy. Unfortunately, the former strategy was inappropriate for
island systems. Therefore, instead of opting for a low-cost ocean out-
fall disposal strategy (appropriate for offshore islands) for raw mac-
erated sewage, local government authorities were forced to accept the
federally "approved," standard continentally based approach of a fairly
sophisticated system of complex aerobic/ mechanical sewage treatment
plants, which are costly and energy intensive. Unfortunately, isolated,
upland units require polishing ponds which use up limited land area, and
larger "downstream" coastal treatment facilities still require short
ocean outfalls for final disposal of the partially treated effluent.
Most of the subsequently built sewage treatment plant systems were
not designed for tropical environments, rarely performing to design
specifications and with a fairly high rate of breakdown. Furthermore,
they require a high degree of operator skill if they are to be maintained
and remain functional. As a consequence of periodic, often extended
electrical power outages, a not uncommon phenomenon in island areas, raw
untreated sewage often passes directly into associated polishing ponds or

the coastal littoral environment.

Many of these problems were anticipated locally, but because the
external funding sources pressed for use of standard continental
criteria and preferred technology, the island got what it did not need
--a high cost, high technology, breakdown prone, decentralized management
nightmare of a system. The Virgin Islands could and probably should have
opted for the World Health Organization (WHO) strategy which encourages
island areas to avoid elaborate treatment systems and use well designed,
long ocean outfalls for disposing of macerated and chlorinated raw
sewage, preferably below the coastal thermocline (as, for example, in
the case of the Cook Islands [Raratonga], Western Samoa [Apia], and
Papua New Guinea [Lae]).
The Virgin Islands did not, however, choose to reject the "inappro-
priate" sewage treatment strategies imposed from outside (to do so would
have reduced funding levels), and the Mangrove Lagoon watershed was to

658

eventually have a total of five government operated systems--all disas-
ter prone and difficult, if not impossible, to run efficiently.
In the meanwhile, within the Mangrove Lagoon itself (more than half
of which was bounded by privately owned land), development activities
were expanding, stimulated by various U.S. (off-island) tax policies
favoring "charter boat" operations. By 1975, Antilles Yachting Services,
a large marina operation based in the Lagoon at Benner Bay, applied for a
permit for expanded facilities. The environmental assessment report
accompanying the permit application emphasized that because there were
so many other large-scale pollutants entering the Lagoon area from the
watershed runoff and from the malfunctional, government-operated
sewage treatment plant at Bovoni and from the government's solid waste
disposal facility at Long Point, the pollution contribution from their
own modest proposal of a few docks and a little bulkheading was very
small by comparison and would not make a substantial difference (Insular
Environments, 1975b). They were in fact saying, "Why single us out?"
The implication was that the larger pollution sources in the area,
resulting from ongoing government activity, should be dealt with first
in coping with the general deterioration of the ecosystem.
But even as these events were occurring, there seemed to be new hope
for the Lagoon from a different direction. Stimulated by the passage of
the federal Coastal Zone Management Act of 1972, the local territorial
government elected in 1974 to apply for the necessary planning grants to
implement a Virgin Islands Coastal Zone Management Program. Under the
aegis of the local Planning Office, a team was assembled and contracts
let for specialized planning studies. The first of these, completed in
1975 (Towle, Grigg, Rainey et al., 1976), suggested that the "Mangrove
Lagoon" be considered as an "area of particular concern" (APC).
By June of 1977 the Virgin Islands had completed its preliminary
Coastal Zone Management Program Plan (VI Government Planning Office,
1977) which, after extensive public hearings and extended legislative
debate, was approved in October 1978. The program consolidated and
centralized the local permitting process for development projects,
officially identified so-called "areas of particular concern" (including

659

the Mangrove Lagoon), laid out the requirements for more elaborate
environmental impact review documents to accompany permit applications
for development activities, and provided criteria for restricting de-
velopment In the coastal zone to water-dependent uses. Once the planning
phase was completed, the administration of the program was turned over to
the Virgin Islands' environmental agency, the Department of Conservation
and Cultural Affairs (DCCA).
Many observers believed that with the advent of the Coastal Zone
Management (CZM) Program, piecemeal development and mismanagement of the
Lagoon watershed would be a thing of the past. The future of the eco-
system, however, remained at risk without remedial action to reduce
pollution loading.
The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) (through the Virgin
Islands Department of Conservation and Cultural Affairs) funded two
studies to address the problem of pollution loading (Nichols et al.,
1979a and 1979b), but neither had any observable effect on either the
expanding operation of the solid waste disposal facility or on the in-
creasing volume of sewage and nutrients discharged into the watershed
by the government-operated sewage treatment plants. These plants con-
tinued to be hydraulically overloaded and to malfunction and, in some
cases, to not function at all for extended periods.
Finally, the Department of Public Works, which was officially
charged with responsibility for managing both the solid waste disposal
site at the Lagoon head and the five sewage treatment plants in the
watershed (at that time), continued to have problems. The Department was
hard pressed to find man-power, funds, and facilities to address the
dramatic increase in solid waste generated on St. Thomas. Volumes rose
from 100 tons per day in 1971 to over 150 tons per day in 1981 and up to
200 tons per day by 1984. The burdens imposed by the continual operation
of sewage plants running at 120 to 150 percent capacity and by the
frequent power outages due to mechanical failures at the power plant also
proved difficult. Furthermore, because local hotels were required under
the Virgin Islands Environmental Protection Act to install package sewage
treatment plants, the Public Works Department was continually training

660

sewage plant operators, only to lose them to the private sector.
Lastly, it must be remembered that the Mangrove Lagoon was only one
of many stressed areas in the Virgin Islands through this entire rapid
growth period, causing the agencies involved to divide their interests,
forces, and finances between the three major islands of St. Thomas, St.

Croix, and St. John.

The foregoing discussion presents the context for the next series
of impacts on the Lagoon which brings the current case study to what we
call the remedial phase. In the early 19801s, the territorial government
obtained funding for a new hospital to be located on the outskirts of the
capital city of Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas. The site was then oc-
cupied by the island's only horse racetrack, a very popular, heavily used
facility for local racing enthusiasts. Because time was of the essence
in commencing construction of the hospital, a quick decision was made by
government to move the racetrack to the Lagoon. The reasons appeared
sound: the government owned the land (which made it convenient) and,
further, there was a partially completed racetrack there already. It had
been started by the Department of Public Works in 1968 in the mangrove
wetlands at the lower end of Turpentine Run, but terminated because the
local government had failed to secure necessary federal permits.
The government's hastily assembled environmental assessment report,
accompanying its coastal zone permit application in late 1980 for siting
the racetrack in the Lagoon area, argued that it was Public Works Depart-
ment's sewage treatment plant, immediately to the west of the racetrack
site, that was causing all the problems in the Lagoon. The only irrever-

sible environmental effect of the racetrack would be to diminish the

area available for nesting birds. The Coastal Zone Commission granted
the permit in early 1981. Public confidence in the efficacy of the
Virgin Islands CZM permitting process was not enhanced.
It is ironic that just two months after the Coastal Zone Commis-
sion permit was issued for the racetrack, the senior planner of the
Division of Coastal Zone Management completed and circulated for re-
view his very detailed "management plan for the St. Thomas Mangrove
Lagoon area of particular concern" (Teytaud, 1981). The plan was too

661

late to have any effect, too complex for efficient application, and too
removed from prevailing uses and management requirements to enjoy accep-
tance as a workable plan of action or for controls.
As water quality continued to decline and shoaling accelerated, DCCA
came under increasing pressure from a newly formed, private sector
Benner Bay/Lagoon Marine Industry Association and others to take more
direct action to reduce Lagoon pollution loading and also to permit a
deepening of the access channel by dredging. DCCA turned to the U.S.
Army Corps of Engineers District in Jacksonville, Florida, with a re-
quest to study the feasibility of improving the flushing of the Lagoon.
Proposed modifications included widening and deepening the Lagoon channel
to Benner Bay and dredging a turning basin at the end of the Bay. The
Corps responded favorably and promptly launched a preliminary reconnais-
sance survey. Their September 1982 report (U.S. Army Corps of Engi-
neers, 1982) documented approximately 400 boats docked in the Bay, the
majority of them in excess of 28 feet in length. To quote the report:

Benner Bay is one of the three major harbors in St.
Thomas. It provides docking and anchorage for a
large portion of the charter sailboats in the is-
lands and, in times of severe weather, serves as
a vital harbor of refuge for many additional boats.
The bay also houses five commercial marinas and
one of the few boat-hauling and complete service
repair facilities in the Virgin Islands. Since
a large percent of the boats in the islands have
drafts in excess of five feet, shoaling in the
bay has greatly curtailed its usefulness as an
anchorage both in emergencies and on a long-term
basis. In addition, economic growth of the ex-
isting marine-related businesses in the area has
suffered from the inability of deeper draft ves-
sels to enter the bay.... Shoaling in the bay
is also suspected to have contributed to the en-
vironmental degradation of the area by decreasing
the flushing rate of the bay and the adjacent
mangrove lagoon.

The Corps estimated that 45,000 cubic yards of material would need
to be excavated, costing $160,000 for final planning and engineering
studies plus an additional $495,000 for dredging and construction costs,

662

plus incidentals, for a total of $655,000. It would take two years,
however, just to complete the detailed project plan. The "remedial
action" phase of Lagoon management was fast approaching.
The local marina operators found two years to be somewhat long for
simply a planning phase and opted to do it themselves. The idea was,
however, expanded to include an additional dredged area for ninety new
boat slips, but the permit application to the Government was rejected, in
part because of rising concern within DCCA about the number of moored and
docked live-aboard boats used as residences. The agency believed that
live-aboard boats were contributing significantly to the growing pollu-
tion problem in the Lagoon. Concern was laid to rest, however, in 1983,
when an EPA funded study of vessel wastes in the territory demonstrated
that while the Lagoon's boat population had risen in one year from 400 to
481 vessels, only 81 were live-aboards. Furthermore, the aggregate
Biological Oxygen Demand (BOD) loading from all boats was only 8.6 lb/day,
while at the Lagoon head, the combined loading of the sewage treatment
plant and Turpentine Run effluents was 455 lb/day, or 98 percent of the
problem (Wernicke and Towle, 1983).
With few options left open, and with public pressure mounting con-
cerning both the public "dump" and sewage pollution at the Lagoon head,
the government was forced to take action. It elected (with U.S. federal
funding) to "eliminate" the dump by building a "high-tech" 350 tons per
day solid waste incinerator/energy recovery plant (to make fresh water
by seawater desalination) and elected to eliminate the "sewage" problem
by building yet another high technology, centralized sewage treatment
system (replacing all existing smaller plants which would be abandoned).
The total estimated cost is 25 million dollars. The two proposed facili-
ties are to be located at the Lagoon head shoreline (the old "dump
site"), on the land previously purchased by the government for the
aborted jet airport (Virgin Islands Planning Office, 1983).
As for the Mangrove Lagoon, its days are clearly numbered, and
in one--perhaps two--decades it will have more facilities than fish,

more boats than birds, and more modifications than mangroves, requiring
ever more costly pollution control and continuing remedial measures (like

663

dredging) to do what nature once did for free.

4.2.4 Retrospective Conclusions
In the first place, there was a conceptual failure by almost every-
one to perceive the Lagoon and its associated watershed As a system of
connected and related parts (some more critical than others). This
resulted in a sequence of structural design failures in virtually every
management sector or agency concerned with the Lagoon "sink" at the

lower end of the watershed.

For example, the natural scientists who produced the approximately
20 research reports, monitoring documents, and development impact assess-
ment studies between 1968 and 1983, with only two partial exceptions,
failed to address the totality of the ecosystem, focusing only on the
.effects" manifested in the Lagoon. The Mangrove Lagoon without its
watershed may have been a useful and convenient study framework but it
was not a satisfactory resource management model.
As a consequence, there was a tendency to measure and count the
wrong things and not to quantify others. In studies of the Mangrove
Lagoon there were elaborate scientific measurements and quantification
of waves, currents and fisheries, of fecal coliform. and other water
quality parameters, and of the distribution of benthic and pelagic or-
ganisms, sea grasses, algae, and mangroves. But it might have been more
useful to count fewer fish and algae, and to allocate more time and
effort to count the number of site development permits, septic tanks,
and housing units, and to measure periodically the devegetated areas
in the uplands, as well as look at things like commercial effluents,
stream flow and sediment loads in Turpentine Run. An assessment of the
driving variables and trends in the whole system would have been more
useful than just measuring their impacts on the aquatic system at the

lower end of the watershed.

Even with this expanded focus, the task of data analysis leading to
a determination of significance and to implications for management would
have remained at risk because natural scientists are not accustomed to,
skilled at, or comfortable interpreting these kinds of data. A team ef-

664

fort involving planners, resource management technicans, and natural and
social scientists was required, but the terms of reference for most
studies rarely encouraged or even permitted such an approach.
Both the planning and management systems failed to conceptualize
the ecosystem as a "watershed unit" and therefore proceeded over the
years to look at the phenomenon of growth in the area through an arti-
ficial framework of "census enumeration districts" and zoning districts
and codes designed in 1970 but never modified in the face of emerging
concentration and density factors in the "Turpentine Run/Mangrove Lagoon

ecosystem.
In any event, just the existence of a central, physical or town
planning unit (whatever it is called) can give all concerned a false
sense of security. This problem is especially awkward when dealing
with coastal and marine matters in developing island areas, largely
because planning units seldom have staff competent to adddress the com-
plex question of coastal resource planning. This situation is espe-
cially bothersome for insular areas undertaking more intensive strategies

to develop coastal and marine resources.
As in the case of Rodney Bay in St. Lucia (see Section 4.1), there
were also systemic failures in the transition of the Virgin Islands Man-
grove Lagoon and its watershed from a low-cost viable natural system to

a pollution prone area requiring high-cost engineering interventions to
maintain its "utility" to residents and users. Units of the local re-
source management system (planning, zoning, environmental control, waste
disposal, land use, and coastal zone management) were completely over-
whelmed by the magnitude of the tasks required in the face of externally
generated and accelerated development activity. They never seemed to
11 catch up" as their functions required more lead time and expertise than
were available locally, even though external funding support was ostensi-
bly provided for some elements of their resource management functions.
For example, the establishment of a Virgin Islands environmental
management agency, the Department of Conservation and Cultural Affairs
(DCCA) in 1968 tended to encourage a false sense of environmental secur-
ity. It was simply too new and too complex an undertaking to be effec-

665

tive in its early years. The institutionalization of any new, broadly
focused and "technically" based government department (or its minister-
ial equivalent) takes time, is fraught with organizational, funding and
staffing problems and is destined for a difficult first decade of trial
and error learning, with some successes and many failures. The Mangrove
Lagoon was, unfortunately, one of the latter.
DCCA's agenda from 1970 onward was too full to allow the agency to
pay much attention to the Mangrove Lagoon (although it did, with off-
island funds, support several studies focused on the Lagoon but not
properly aimed at the right issues). Therefore, when the new, externally
funded Virgin Islands Coastal Zone Management Program was approved in
1978 by the local legislature (based on a three-year planning effort)
and assigned to DCCA to administer, those within the agency and those
outside concerned with coastal resources somewhat naively assumed that a
balance could be struck between developmental pressure and environmental
imperatives in coastal areas. Hope may spring eternal, but unfortuT17
ately reality creeps in, and in the case of the Mangrove Lagoon, the
Virgin Islands' CZM program was fundamentally flawed. Using an external
(federal U.S.) model, it split out a relatively narrow "coastal zone"
along the land/sea interface into a two-tier demarcation, a) ignoring the
fact that, in small islands, the entire island is a coastal zone and b)
excluding from the CZM program's purview and permitting jurisdiction the
entire inner core of the island and thus most upland "watershed" areas
(for example, the most heavily populated segments of the Turpentine Run-
Mangrove Lagoon drainage basin).
There was also a technical failure of researchers, planners, and
managers to address the full spectrum of driving variables within the
system. The numerous studies of the natural system and its changing
characteristics produced mostly negative management recommendations
of the "don't do this anymore" character, with little concern for how to
effect needed changes in user behavior, management structures and policy.
At no time was there a systematic investigation of the social system and
its characteristics, limits, changes, and driving variables--which were
continually interacting with the natural parameters of the Mangrove

666

Lagoon and its watershed.
Between 1960 and 1984, the Mangrove Lagoon watershed experienced
the emergence of a variety of new social units of direct and indirect
users of the Lagoon. In 1960 there were only farmers, fishermen
and a sprinkling of residents and small commercial establishments (served
by septic tanks). By 1984 there were nearly 500 vessel owners, an active
marine industry, thousands of low-income public housing residents, thous-
ands of middle-income single family dwellings, thousands of apartment
dwellers and owners, and hundreds of commercial businesses. To some,
this was progress. But there were numerous deferred or hidden costs, not
the least of which was the degradation of the Mangrove Lagoon.
Finally, the Virgin Islands Mangrove Lagoon example illustrates sev-
eral additional technical problems worthy of mention.
There was a general failure to recognize the fact that the
aggregate effect of degradation in an ecosystem like the
Mangrove Lagoon can be worse than the sum. Initially, in-
cremental changes are minimized and considered acceptable
because the natural ecosytem is "working" and can handle
the changes. But in later stages, larger incremental
changes are justified as inconsequential (in the presence
of the aggregate pollution effect). The argument is made
that by concentrating polluting activities in one location,
the use of other still pristine areas for those same

activities will be avoided.

There was a failure of government to abide by its own
established rules and to apply the same environmental

standards to itself as it requires of the private sector.
Permit systems involving subjective judgments by the
permitting agency only work well when everyone assumes
the procedure is "fair" and "reasonable." When, for
example, government agencies subvert this system by
manipulating the process through subterfuge, or by
applying higher "anti-pollution" or environmental
quality standards to others than they are willing to

667

honor, then the permit system will break down--not in

form but in function.
0 There was a tendency on the part of all off-island,
external development funding agencies involved in
Lagoon watershed development to ignore the environ7
mental impact of their lending or grant input. It
is almost as if there were a separate set of less
stringent rules for "offshore" areas, but, as O'Rfordan
(1981) and others have noted, it is unrealistic to
assume that external (off-island) funding sources and

institutions will voluntarily seek to establish the
full spectrum of environmental costs or be willing to
internalize them, within discrete project budgets. How-
ever, until such costs (representing a draw-down on the
natural and social systems' capital stock) are identified
and quantified, development planning and growth manage-
ment will continue to generate unanticipated environmental
crises, disbenefits and ecosystem losses, leaving islands at

risk.
The Virgin Islands' experience demonstrates that the impact
of inappropriate capital-intensive technologies on fragile
insular ecosystems will tend to reduce long-term resource
flexibility because of the virtually irreversible alterations
to specialized and highly complex land/sea ecosystems caused
by such intrusions. This dysfunctionality results from the
incompatibility of grafting high-volume technologies onto
small closed environments with a very limited capacity to ab-
sorb the residuals (McElroy, 1978b). As McElroy has noted,

"The result is the substitution of man7-made inputs for irre-
placeable natural ones, and in the long run development options
are restricted and perverse feedbacks reduce the viability of
environmentally sensitive industries like tourism. Such
technological dependence chronically limits future local op-
tions" (McElroy, 1978b).

668

4.3 ECNANP: A Regional NGO/PVO Participatory Planning Approach
Over the past eight years, the Eastern Caribbean Natural Area Management
Program (ECNAMP) has developed as an effective regional approach to is-
land resource assessment, environmental management, and ecodevelopment.
It is a private sector initiative supported by the Rockefeller Brothers
Fund, World Wildlife Fund, International Union for the Conservation of
Nature, UNEP, and others.
ECNAMP was based on an hypothesis (derived from prior experimental
activity in Latin America) that, given the pace of Caribbean tourism
development and landscape change, a systematic national park and wild-
lands program was needed in island countries. Such an approach would
serve a dual purpose of analysis and action: the process of identifi-
cation, justification, selection, planning and protecting "critical
natural areas" also provided a mechanism for introducing multiple-use
resource assessment, strategic planning, and management techniques.
Each would be addressed through a non7-formal, hands-on, learning-by-doing
process. By linking conservationists, local users and institutions,
development planners, and unique ecosystem features in a kind of "non7-
Faustian bargain," both the development and conservation ethics could be
honorably addressed in a well choreographed framework of human and
natural ecosystem interactions. The whole, it was assumed, would be
greater than the sum of its parts.
Essential to ECNAMP's development was acceptance of a long-term
approach: a small "force for change" over an extended period of time
(three to ten years) would be more effective than a larger force
over a short span of time (one to three years). Further, ECNAMP has been
structured so that, except in rare cases, a less "qualified" indigenous

expert, consultant, or participant was preferable to a more qualified
.. continental" expert from the outside. Additionally, a locally designed
and produced plan (perhaps using external counsel), however simple or
imprecise, was preferable to an externally produced, more sophisticated
plan or scheme. The entire concept was, in the language of educators,
an experiential learning strategy for both the teacher and the learner.
Best of all, it has worked!

669

ECNAMP was originally launched in 1976 by a grant from the
Rockefeller Brothers Fund (under the auspices of the Caribbean Conserva-
tion Association and the University of Michigan's School of Natural
Resources) as the Eastern Caribbean Wildlands Program. It took as its
thematic approach the need to define strategic planning programs for

natural areas in the Eastern Caribbean. The initial effort embraced a

strong conservation theme, with an emphasis on the region's needs and
best options for insular park, preserve, and natural area protection and
preservation.
By the end of 1980, through the gradual evolution of a rather
low-key, "bottom7-up" strategy emphasizing participatory components,
ECNAMP had emerged more as a process than as a discrete program. It
was less of a natural-area protagonist and more an attempt "to stimulate
... creative development ... through the definition and use of socially
prudent approaches designed to match the environment's potential"
(Putney, 1981). The resultant emphasis has been on the human and social
components of the natural resource ecosystem, on the interaction of the
human resource base and the natural resource base, and on the development
of a sustainable "ecodevelopment" process. In effect, the "island
experience" of the early years generated a quasi-reversal of emphasis
from wildland protection to ecodevelopment and sustained resource uti-
lization strategies. Even more significant was the shift in focus from

terrestrial to marine environments and resources.
ECNAMP's long-term potential as an agent of insular change is based
on the premise that strengthening local institutional capabilities will
enhance the capacity of an island area to effectively manage its natural
resource base. As a catalytic, skills-building effort, the program has
developed an integrated series of mutually reinforcing activities.
Major program components include research, training, education, mapping,
planning and field projects, each designed to strengthen the capabilities
of island resource managers (such as fisheries officers and planners)
in the Eastern Caribbean. The goal is to foster management strategies
sensitive to human needs and economic imperatives which do not exceed
ecological constraints.

670

One of its earliest program components was an inventory and mapping
effort, combining locally collected and collated natural resource systems
data (for each of 25 island areas in the Eastern Caribbean) with data on
established resource users and the human resource base. The resulting
output of this survey and mapping project was a series of island data
atlases (18 maps per island). Atlases were designed to provide a broad
spectrum of information for local and regional policy makers, planners,
and resource managers (especially those who had collated and analyzed the
data as a training process). The information compiled illustrates the
inter-relatedness of both the biological and socio-economic aspects of
development activity and encourages a systematic approach to decision
making and resource utilization (Putney, 1982).
More recently, ECNAMP program efforts have included non-formal,
community-based coastal zone management and environmental education in
St. Lucia; assistance to a forestry products crafts industry in Dominica-,
and a marine parks program for the British Virgin Islands which empha-
sizes traditional use, economic activities, recreation, education, and
research as well as protection of the natural environment. Other pro-
jects are an integrated, multi-island, intra-governmental strategy for
resource planning and development for Anguilla, St. Barthelemy, and St.
Martin/St. Maarten, and a multiple-use development planning effort for
the Cabrits Peninsula in Dominica. This last project incorporates an
ecodevelopment approach for utilizing the resources of a local fishing
community and developing a nearby historic site located within the

Dominica National Park.

ECNAMP activities are structured to support a process which is
holistic rather than segmented into smaller parts. Its integrated
approach to natural resource management emphasizes coordination, with
a series of linked program elements carried out within a highly
flexible, decentralized management framework to encourage integrated
learning and transferability. Dispersed offices and personnel located
on several islands in the Eastern Caribbean (Barbados, St. Croix, St.
Lucia, Antigua, British Virgin Islands) participate in the program, and
affiliated associates can be found in most of the other larger islands

671

of the Eastern Caribbean. Since its inception in 1978, the ECNAMP opera-
tion has evolved as a network of collaborating individuals and institu-
tions from the region who cooperate in the ECNAMP framework when appro-
priate. It uses a talent pool of individuals already in place in the
islands of the Lesser Antilles, thus enhancing ECNAMP's ability to be
responsive to changing local requirements and to adjust requirements in
response to ongoing community-based assessments.
The importance of participatory strategies to all facets of program
planning and implementation has been consistently stressed by ECNAMP
personnel. ECNAMP strategists recognize that communities, together with
government planners, must be an integral part of the decision making
process for natural resource utilization. Emphasis has been placed on
the use of local community expertise, assessments, and solutions to meet
local problems and define local needs. The linking mechanism is a re-
gional networking of indigenous institutions and consultants, responding
to community-level needs in designing and implementing program activities
in the small decentralized islands of the Eastern Caribbean (Putney,

1981; Towle, J., 1982).
The change process fundamental to development can perhaps best be
accomplished within an organizational framework which acknowledges the
uncertainty associated with the task of development. An appropriate
response to such a risk-bearing environment is a process of ongoing
creative adaptation. This is the working model of ECNAMF. Its funding
and executing agencies have permitted core personnel to work within an
environment relatively free of institutional constraints or plan-specific
approaches to resource management. Rather, an experiential, action-
based, capacity-building program style has been encouraged. The ensuing
climate of innovation and flexibility has permitted ECNAMP to adapt the
process en route which has been, in effect, goal enhancing.
ECNAMP is a catalytic development process for natural resource man-
agement with increasing emphasis on coastal areas. It is not an organi-
zation in and of itself, but it manifests a capacity building framework
which is being "institutionalized" as a learning model by a network of
collaborating program participants in island areas throughout the Eastern

672

Caribbean. It is as much a learning process as a doing process and, as
such, is a unique program, with replication possibilities, for developing
island areas (Towle, J., 1982).

Its most recent publication, "Guidelines for Integrated Marine Re-
source Management in the Eastern Caribbean," provides a useful model de-
monstrating what can be done at the local and regional level by employ-
ing a "participatory" strategy, limited funds, unlimited patience, and
a willingness to listen to the non-professional resource managers--
i.e., the traditional users of the resource. It is recommended reading
and a working handbook for anyone addressing island coastal zones and
marine resource development and management (Geoghegan, 1983).

673

5. THE PACIFIC ISLAND REALM: EXAMPLES AND LESSONS

5.1 Regional Overview
Embracing some 64 million square miles and covering nearly one-third of
the earth's surface, the Pacific Ocean is the largest, most prominent
feature of the globe. It also contains the world's largest collection of
islands--some "continental," most "oceanic." It includes the world's
second and third largest islands (New Guinea and Borneo), the world's two
largest independent archipelagic states (Indonesia and the Philippines)
and perhaps twenty or so island groups encompassing more than a hundred
thousand islands, atolls and islets. There are twenty separate smaller
political entities of which ten are independent "developing" island

countries.

If the reader can conceive of a line drawn along the great circle
route (the shortest distance) from Japan, eastward across the Pacific
Ocean to central Chile and then back to Australia's south coast, the
wedge-shaped enclosed area or "triangle" contains nearly all of the is-
land groups of the Pacific, encompassing the islands of Melanesia, Micro-
nesia and Polynesia, and some five million people (three-fifths in New
Guinea). This wedge-shaped Pacific Ocean "island" subregion, even
though only about one-fourth of the larger Pacific Basin, covers a vast
oceanic area nearly 9,600 km (6,000 miles) long measured on the east-west
axis and averaging about 4,800 km (3,000 miles) on the northsouth axis.
For every 500 square miles of ocean there is an average of about one
square mile of island "land." Under the framework of the emerging
"Exclusive Economic Zone" concept (200-mile-wide extensions to the terri-
torial sea boundary), land-to-sea area ratios vary widely, with New
Guinea at 1:10, Fiji at 1:60, the Cook Islands at 1:3,000 and Kiribati at
1:6,000 (all figures rounded).
Some island groups, like Fiji, are true "clusters," while most are
spread out in curvilinear arcs over great distances like the Solomons,
the Cook Islands, Tonga and especially Kiribati (the former Gilberts)
which extends over 4,000 km (2,400 miles) of ocean space but has only 567
km2 (215 square miles) of land area.
In 1979 the Pacific island area received about three percent of the

674

world-wide total of overseas development assistance (concessionary
grants) mainly from Australia, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, France
and the UN. By way of comparison, the Caribbean region received about
five percent and the five island states in the Indian Ocean area received
two and one-half percent. Donor/recipient funding relationships in the
Pacific vary widely, some highly dependent on a few bilateral sources
and others with a broader, more multilateral external funding base.

5.2 Fiji: The Regional Center
Fiji is made up of about 322 islands which are strategically located in
the center of the South Pacific island area. The total land area of Fiji
is 18,272 km2 (7,000 square miles). There are two rather large islands,
Viti Levu with 10,429 km2 and Vanua Levu with 5,556 km2, and ninety-five
other inhabitated islands like Taveuni (470 km2). Approximately 95 per-
cent of the population of Fiji lives on the two main islands of Viti Levu
and Vanua Levu. Population is concentrated in Suva, Latoka, and Nadi
areas of Viti Levu (Figure 9).
The economy of Fiji is primarily agrarian. Sugar is the primary
export. Tourism in Fiji is second to sugar as a foreign exchange-earning
sector. Other major exports are gold, copra, fish and coconut oil. The
population of Fiji is approximately 635,000, of which forty percent work
in the agriculture sector. Bilateral overseas development assistance to
Fiji in 1980 was 31 million dollars (total overseas development assis-
tance was 33 million dollars), less than ten percent of total Fijian
goverment expenditures which in 1980 were US$360 million. According to
Hamnett et al. (1981), "Just after independence in 1970, Fiji relied.on
the United Kingdom, Australia, and New Zealand for a majority of its
aid. Since that time, Fiji has successfully captured aid funds...[but]
has also built up its own ability to generate development funds inter-
nally." Fiji is therefore less vulnerable to major changes in foreign
aid allocations." Food imports per capita in 1978 were only US$114, and
the government has a fairly elaborate diversification strategy designed
to reduce even this relatively low level of dependency on external food
supplies. The government of Fiji, unlike most Caribbean countries, has

675

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676

a well developed structure of divisional and local government units.
Fiji is also the site of the regionally supported University of the
South Pacific and various other regional programs and projects supported
by international agencies. This centralization of research stands in
contrast to the Caribbean where regional agency and service headquarters
are based in a variety of places (like Barbados, Trinidad, Jamaica, St.
Lucia and Guyana).
Fiji has a very professional planning division, which has produced
top quality national development planning documents (Fiji, 1980). In the
fourteen years since independence, it has made significant progress in
addressing both growth strategies and environmental management issues,
though the format differs from island counterparts outside the Pacific
area. Overall long-range planning objectives are designed to promote
self-sufficiency, in part through rural sector and peripheral island
development programs with the aim of encouraging Fijian citizens to
expand primary production and to own and manage domestic and interna-
tional business ventures serving domestic needs in order to make Fiji
less dependent on external help. Fiji's expanding interest in using
coastal and marine resources to accelerate this process is reviewed in
the following sections.

5.3 Fiji and the Coastal Zone
For many oceanic islands there appears to be a class of marine resources
that are in excess of local subsistence requirements. In most smaller
island countries, it is not clear to what extent it is practical to

exploit these resources in a more extensive, intensive, or commercial way
for local use, for supplying urban areas or for export, without jeopardi-
zing subsistence use levels and encouraging food imports at high costs.
We have taken for our case study in this instance certain proto-
typic examples from the island group of Fiji. There the indigenous popu-
lation's perception of man and his natural resource base takes the form
of an all-embracing, unifying concept of interdependence between humans,
land, and sea. The concept is implicit in the Fijian word "vanua"
(whereby it is impossible to separate out any single component) and forms

677

the basis of traditional Fijian resource rights (Baines, 1979). For
Fijians who use and draw subsistence from coastal areas, the land itself
as well as adjacent lagoons, coastal reefs and other marine components
are seen as part of an integrated whole, inseparable from other portions
of village land regardless of boundaries that might artificially separate
marine and terrestrial ecosystems or divide or designate them by such
distinctions as "high-water mark" or "the beach" or even the "coastline."
As Baines (1982) has noted, "In Fiji this enlightened perception of
resources persists even in the externally influenced Fijian culture of
today."

This perception is, of course, at odds with British Admiralty Law
and land title law, imposed upon and common to Fiji for more than a hun-
dred years. It is possible for private individuals and corporations to
own some land above the high-water mark. It is also possible, in the
case of traditional or native land above the high-water mark, for it to
be owned on a kind of village-rooted communal basis. However, anything
below the mean high-water mark and extending seaward to the island's
outer-reef edge is legally defined as the property of the nation but is
also subject to a traditionally derived, now codified (under a national
Native Lands Trust Commission) set of practices based on "communal use
rights," all of which, in turn, constitutes a rather remarkable, inte-
grated, grass-roots coastal resource management strategy.
It is, in effect, a bottom-up coastal zone management program, to
the extent that it is an internalized equilibrating process for
adjusting to the carrying capacity of the system. Change is absorbed
or resisted and risk is spread, by limiting use of the marine "commons"
(which is important to island peoples in the face of seasonal changes,
natural disasters and unpredictable outside influences). It is solidly
based on locally derived, traditional technology and on an awareness of
the limits of the system (Hardin, 1968).
In both the Caribbean and the Pacific, larger as opposed to smaller
islands and especially island groups display significant differences in
both the perception and the use of coastal resources. For example,
smaller islands or islands with very small shelf areas in the Caribbean

678

and also atoll communities in the Pacific have developed fairly diverse
technologies and not inconsiderable skill for going "offshore" to exploit
fish on adjacent or even distant deep-water outer-reef slope areas.
Larger islands or islands with larger coastal shelves, as in the case of
islands on the Virgin Islands platform or as in the Fijian case, have
tended to venture not quite so far offshore for fishing purposes.
Barbados, in the Lesser Antilles, is an interesting case in point here
because the Barbadian fisherman, lacking both an extensive shelf and
protecting satellite islets and therefore working in more exposed open
sea area, especially when loaded after fishing, cannot easily exploit the
shelf areas of the more westerly islands to leeward, just over the hori-

zon. He has, therefore, evolved a very special kind of boat, quite
different from other Lesser Antillean watercraft, enabling him to fish
in the more exposed waters on the deep shelf off Barbados.
A different situation has emerged in Fiji. Baines (1982) has noted
that in the case of traditional Fijian communities, which have access to
an extensive shelf area, there are "no Fijian names for the high-quality
snapper now being fished in Fiji from the deep-water outer-reef slope."
Fijians simply did not venture into or attempt to harvest fish from the

outer deep-water reef slopes, for such coastal villagers had access to

inshore marine resources.

Additionally, traditional "territorial" limitations have also de-
fined the particular areas which community or village groups were to
exploit. Such traditionally defined "fishing rights" areas continue to
be important in Fiji today and are delimited by boundaries which gener-
ally are seaward extensions of the land boundaries to which a particular
group has legal rights (Baines, 1982). This approach is, in modern
terms, a "limited entry system" serving as an internal mechanism to
maintain a sustainable-yield strategy for use of marine resources.
Any given fishing village might have exclusive rights to use an area
immediately offshore. Its dimensions were determined customarily by his-
torical shifts of power and influence and, to a degree, reflected the
local sequence of village establishment. A given village would also cus-
tomarily possess shared use rights with some limited number of additional

679

villages in other demarcated areas (with seasonal limitations or for an
occasional "harvest"). Thus, there tended to exist a kind of equilibra-
tion process whereby each village defined a basic subsistence area plus
several kinds of fall-back, emergency use or seasonal use areas shared
with others that combined the coastal, lagoonal, and offshore reef system
in a fairly complex pattern of demarcated use rights. In more recent
times these traditional use rights (in part because they have been
nationally codified) have been seen by some as a constraint upon more
modern kinds of development activity, such as marinas, hotels, or other
tourist operations, because to use such traditionally demarcated fish-
eries areas the developer is required to negotiate for any new "use" of
the area. Since use rights are not customarily sold but only leased, the
end result is an informal permitting system whereby the new user pays a
recurring annual fee which, in turn, becomes a limiting device on the use

of the resource.

For example, the author learned on a recent site visit to Fiji
(1983) of a large tourist operation on the western coast of Viti Levu
which was desirous of using various nearshore, uninhabited islets for a

"deserted island beach experience" for its clients (who would be deliv-
ered to the areas by boat). The operation had to "negotiate" with the
.. controlling" village for such access. In addition, the tour operators
had to specify intended use patterns and sites, establish nonconflicting
schedules, and also pay a "use" fee. They could not, therefore, treat
the islets as "commons" and knew full well that their activities (and any
negative environmental impacts) would be monitored by the traditional
users. Similar examples have surfaced relative to marine sand mining/
dredging projects which have been required to negotiate a fee-payment
with traditional use-rights holders, not for the sand (which belongs to
the "crown") but for "diminished fishing opportunities", i.e., presumed
temporary environmental impacts. Even coastal mangroves have come under
these arrangements, for during disputes over shoreline reclamation ef-
forts, traditional users (who seasonally harvest crabs, etc., for food
from the mangroves) have brought complaints to the Native Fisheries
Commission, asserting that they had been deprived of a traditional har-

680

vesting option and sought to recover the value of that loss. In such
cases, the local litigants have been awarded between $258/acre/year and
$384/acre/year for lost use rights (Baines, 1979).

Such a system of checks and balances reduces the indiscriminate,
irrevocable allocation or destructive use of any coastal resource in
favor of a sustained, non-destructive use. It has a "free," built-in
monitoring system (because the users jointly share the resource), estab-
lishes a cost for utilization of the "commons," and represents an inter-
nalized and informal, multiple-use, participatory, sustainable-yield
coastal resource management strategy which favors the maintenance of
local subsistence use and national self-reliance, with cost figures at-
tached to commercial exploitation schemes (Hardin, 1968; Gilles and
Jamtgaard, 1982-1983). Any attempt to install a highly formalized top-
down "coastal zone management system" in place of or casually super-
imposed upon this preexisting and traditional island system would
undoubtedly be a mistake. While not every island has quite such an
effective, codified, and workable coastal resource "management" mechanism
already in place as does Fiji, most islands have locally evolved, village
-based, uncodified counterparts (see the Rodney Bay example in Section
4.1).

Since Fiji emerged as an independent nation in 1970, increasing
attention has been paid to coastal resource development potential. One
result is an expanding and profitable offshore fisheries focus on the
skipjack tuna. Exploitation of this fishery has, in turn, involved
international development of commercial joint venture and licensing
arrangements with the Japanese as well as various domestic horizontal
and vertical integration arrangements for new local businesses. Ele-
ments of the new economic strategy include the successful development of
local can manufacturing, fish processing, vegetable oil supply, marketing
companies, and ship building enterprises. Other experiments, focusing on
the commercial expansion of nearshore artisanal (traditional, small boat,
low-technology, mostly subsistence) fishery resources have not been
quite so successful.
It is useful to review two prototypic examples of well-meaning

681

attempts to "develop" traditionally used coastal fishery resources on a
commercial basis while still maintaining an artisanal base. They have
each been analyzed in some detail by Baines. Both projects were planned
on the premise that artisanal fishermen and their respective villages had
some understanding of the concept of surplus production and of marketing
for cash. It was assumed that there was a link between the sale of fish
for cash and the possibility of exchanging services and cash for a vari-
ety of other goods that would benefit the individual or the village.
A simple two-phase model for commercial development of a coastal
fisheries resource (based on a single offshore insular village unit but
assuming some cooperation between neighboring villages) was designed by
the local Fisheries Division to exploit local reef and lagoon resources.
The effort was to require only shallow draft, small traditional- boats and
nylon seine nets. It had been assumed that after the village repaid
initial capital loans, surplus income would be invested in a later phase
for larger boats and better gear to enable trolling and possibly pole-
and-line fishing activity outside the reef. The overall scheme required
the government to provide some additional shipping service for ice trans-
port to be used in outer island fish storage facilities and for the
return trip by sea to the main urban center of Suva (Figure 9). The
only uncertainty in the model was the renewable-yield potential of the
area to be fished. At the time there were no simple guidelines to assess
the fisheries potential of coral reef and adjacent shallow-water environ-
ments, although this shortcoming has since been remedied (Baines, 1982).
Shortly after the project was launched, technical and climatic cir-
cumstances introduced additional uncertainties in the logistical support
side of the endeavor. Engine breakdowns and bad weather prevented some
scheduled ice deliveries and fish collection trips by the government's
boat, resulting in a general decline of enthusiasm on the part of the
participating fishermen. But the most significant problem was not tech-
nical but social. The ice delivery and fish pick-up by the inter-island
service boat, when it worked, involved a fixed schedule. The fourteen-
day cycle of catching fish, preparing and icing the catch and then load-
ing it for shipment to market imposed a regular concentrated pattern of

682

activity which conflicted with other village activities. These behavior
patterns had been more traditionally based on seasonal changes and on
planting and harvesting cycles for both terrestrial food crops and for
the optimal time required for achieving the best harvest of marine spe-
cies. Most fishermen, accustomed to the normal "feast or famine"
cycles of fishing, limited by both biological and climatological consid-
erations, had spread the risk of economic survival over a variety of
additional pursuits. Maintenance of small-scale farming plots was an
important secondary occupation. Villagers found it very difficult, under
these circumstances, to adapt to the fourteen-day project cycle which
seemed so reasonable from the perspective of the project planner in Suva
(Baines, 1982).
Fortunately, the project was not abandoned. By shifting to more
appropriate fish processing techniques, ice supply and shipment problems
were essentially eliminated. Fish was dried and smoked and dried sea
cucumber (beche-de-mer) was added as an exploitable resource, all of
which could be safely stored until transport. The solution represented
an adjustment of the project design to the more traditional, local acti-
vity pattern which had long combined both agriculture and fisheries.
Adaptation to this strategy essentially guaranteed the project's success
(Baines, 1982).
A second project in Fiji involved an enterprising effort to encour-
age coastal villagers to exploit beche-de-mer (dried sea cucumber). In
this case the fisheries' project planners determined, in advance, "cus-
tomary" or traditional fishing areas of target villages, the availability
of adequate beche-de-mer stocks, the basis of community support for the
project, and the presence of the required labor supply. A sincere and
effective effort was undertaken to train selected persons from the vari-
ous target villages as both harvesters and processors to guarantee a
supply. This strategy also ensured the application of techniques neces-
sary to produce a high-quality dried product that could be stored for
shipment and be acceptable for the export market. The initial effort

produced a good product which was processed with enthusiasm and brought
a good price in Suva. Villagers were more or less satisfied, although

683

they expressed some unhappiness about the long interval between the
collection and processing work and the cash proceeds which ultimately
resulted from sales. In time, this unhappiness resulted in a gradual
waning of community enthusiasm, and the only alternative that seemed
acceptable was for the villagers to harvest but not process beche-de-mer,
even though they would be paid a much lower price for the unprocessed
animals. They clearly were more interested in the immediacy of cash
return, and thus the beche-de-mer industry developed through an inter-
mediary (not a villager) who purchased the raw material and then pro-
cessed it for shipment to Suva and ultimate export (Baines, 1982).
However, as harvesting continued and stocks declined, fishermen
began looking to the stocks in areas controlled by other villages not

involved in the scheme. The search for additional stocks resulted in an

unfortunate confrontation over fishing rights,and in failure of the pro-
ject because the carrying capacity of the target area had been exceeded.
This outcome suggests that fishing rights for domestic consumption are not
easily merged with commercial exploitation of the resource for export.
As Baines concludes, "...successful coastal resource development projects
require that the chosen technology be consistent with the social organ-
ization of the communities involved in its application" (Baines, 1982).
Promising and effective new strategies for small island coastal
resource development are possible, but only if environmental perceptions
of coastal communities are better identified and appreciated, and local
understanding of the ecosystem and its management requirements can some-
how be tapped. Central planners, and external development change agents
need to be responsive to this information source and imaginative enough
to incorporate such data into economic and development models for small
island areas. Anything less than this will, if the island experience is
any guide to the future, diminish the resource base, encourage island
1. openness" and demands which exceed ecosystem capacity, create internal
user conflicts and new dependencies for the island, and subvert future

attempts to develop more self-reliant, national coastal resource use,
management plans and practices.
If small coastal resource development projects require midstream

684

re-design (based on feedback from the participants), then larger schemes
are even more at risk if they are not sufficiently flexible to make such
adjustments. Current international and bilateral development project
design formats--at least for island areas--are more often inappropriately
structured and rarely permit truly flexible readjustment of program
elements, and objectives in response to changing circumstances. As a
result, in the larger search for effective, workable "leverage" points to
provide for basic needs, many projects brought to islands from the out-
side fail to establish and put in place an institutionalized living
mechanism (people, structures, and technology) for growth that enhances
national or insular self-sufficiency, reduces dependency, minimizes
vulnerability, and is economically viable. This problem is endemic to
islands; the view from inside (looking out) bears little resemblance to
the view from outside looking in. Bridging this conceptual gap has
nothing to do with funding levels or more foreign aid--it is solely a
question of how to address technical assistance for and to island areas
in a more constructive, creative, and appropriate way, one that is
sensitive to unexpected events and to the island's requirements for
self-reliance and survival, not as a microstate but as an island system.

There is a difference.

5.4 Center-Periphery Questions (The UNESCO/MAB Fiji Project)

Between 1972 and 1980 Fiji and small satellite islands to the east of
Viti Levu and Vanua Levu, particularly the Lau group, became a kind of
test site for what may be the most significant, detailed and instructive
study carried forward in the last several decades on man/environment
relationships in island areas. The study comes to grips with island
carrying capacity, small island dependency, productivity, and vulner-
ability, and related development options for insular areas.
In 1972, the UNESCO Program on Man and the Biosphere (MAB) launched
a special study project on "the ecology and the rational use of island
ecosystems." Humans were the focal point of the study, with an emphasis
on the problems of island populations within their environmental context.
The island ecosystem project was to offer exceptional opportunity to

685

study, under relatively controlled conditions, the entire spectrum of
ecological, economic and social factors influencing man's relationship
with the biosphere. Its objectives were to pursue three themes: (1)
management of environmental resources by island populations, (2) impact
of external forces on islands and (3) impact of alien plants and animals

on island ecosytems.
The study assumed that island ecosystems, because of their small
size and isolation, were intrinsically susceptible to environmental
degradation resulting from external influences, and that islands would
also "provide unusually favorable conditions for scientists to study
ecological, social and cultural models of human carrying capacity."
Additionally, although among islands there is tremendous variability
(which offers opportunity for comparative studies), the program designers
also assumed that "islands constitute discrete units of manageable size
in which scientific measurement might be facilitated" (UNESCO/MAB,
1973).

As a working hypothesis, the project sought to explore the concept
of carrying capacity of various types of islands along a continuum of
subsistence-based, self-sufficient island systems and more developed
islands which had lost their internal capacity to prevent or control
environmental degradation.
It was also presumed that research work on the less developed is-
lands would (in a kind of preservationist mode) look to strategies for
maintaining traditional forms of stability. In the case of islands
already substantially integrated into wider economic and technical sy-
stems, research emphasis would be placed on remedial strategies for emer-
gent environmental problems caused by over-population, unbalanced land
use, misuse of resources and the negative impacts of tourism (UNESCO/MAB,
1974).
As part of its overall world-wide strategy, the UNESCO/MAB planning
group began to search for an island test site in which to examine man/
environment equilibria. Outlying islands in the Pacific area were con-
sidered to be good examples of a situation common to many tropical is-
lands: mono-cultural use of land for export crops, subsistence food

686

production, and inter-island exchange of produce (taking advantage of
ecological diversity) between primary and secondary island areas, in

combination with the use of coastal marine and reef resources. It was

assumed at the time that many island areas and particularly the periph-
eral islands of larger island groups were experiencing a process of
disintegration of the normal network or flow of materials, goods and
people. At the same time they also remained marginal to national
growth centers. As a result, peripheral islands were increasingly
under-utilized and under-populated, while the "core" island areas were
experiencing urbanization and losing their former self-sufficiency in
food production. As urban core islands were growing and in a sense
becoming more centralized and marginal to external systems (because of
their openness), the outer islands or peripheral areas were increasingly
more vulnerable, dependent and less diversified. Outlying areas were,

therefore, less able to contribute to any national strategy for self-
reliance and internally based economic development.
With the financial assistance of the United Nations Fund for PopU7-
lation Activities, the UNESCO/MAB program in 1973 designed and mounted
a pilot research project with field studies to be undertaken principally
in the small eastern island group of Fiji, concentrating on the systems
relationships among (a) human population dynamics, (b) the use of natural
resources from a set of previously interlinked ecosystems (marine, coas-
tal and terrestrial) and (c) the function of the outer islands in relation
to national and global economic development structures. This multidis-
ciplinary project was headed by Dr. Harold Brookfield, a geographer af-
filiated with the University of Melbourne in Australia and later the
University of West Indies in Barbados. Topical areas covered in the
subsequent research effort were reef systems, soil and vegetation, land
use and land holding, nutrition, work input, demographic considerations,
migration and the larger question of center-periphery relationships.
More complex questions of island carrying capacity, vulnerability, depen-
dency, and development planning were also considered. During the course
of the project the interdisciplinary study team also become very much
enmeshed in Fijian efforts to design improved long-range development

687

strategies for Fiji and in a search for development guidelines appropri-
ate to the Fijian insular system (diCastri and Glaser, 1979).
The MAB Fiji project was far too complex and its products too ex-
tensive to adequately summarize or even review here. The seven volumes
of documentation constitute perhaps the best available analysis of what
makes islands systems "tick" (MAB, 1977, and Brookfield, 1977, 1978a,
1978b, 1979, 1980). It is instructive to note what happened in Fiji for
it is a microcosm of what happens generally to oceanic island systems.
Until the twentieth century, ecological variety in the outer is-
lands of Fiji gave rise to specialized, localized production which sup-
ported an active, although informal, system of direct inter-island trade.
Some exchange of goods extended to nearby islands in Tonga outside of the
boundaries of Fiji. With development in the core or center (essentially
Suva on Viti Levu), there was a change in the terms of the relationship
between the center of Fiji and the very productive and diverse satellite
island areas. As the center of the Fiji island system enlarged, the
smaller outer island systems were absorbed into the structure and frame-
work determined by the center. As a result, the outer island group
tended to lose its own diversity, productivity and independence of judg-
ment as to what and when -to produce in order to survive.
Adjustments to the needs of the larger system diminished the capa-
city of the outer island group to serve the larger task of national self-
reliance and self-sufficiency. In Fiji's case, the outer or eastern-
most islands are increasingly marginal to and dependent upon the central-
ized decision making and resource use systems, which continue to be
mono-cultural and export oriented and over which they have little control.
Brookfield's own retrospective overview of the Fiji project is in-
structive (1980). He was perhaps the first to suggest, based on field
work in Fiji, that despite the good intentions of the UNESCO/MAB program
the research study had suggested "the need for a new integrating para-
digm, in which the relative roles of the social and natural science
contributions might be clarified within a unified framework."
Brookfield was concerned as early as 1972 with the MAB program
notion that the "rational use of island ecosystems" could be defined

688

because this involved a behavioral assumption regarding the existence of
11 rational ecological man." Who was to define what was "rational"? It
ignored the fact that an islander's own perception and set of values did
not necessarily seem to find any clear place within the framework (i.e.,
that there were differing versions of rationality). Furthermore, even
at the outset of the project, Brookfield expressed some concern about the
conception of islands as "laboratories" for the study of population/en--
vironment relations and about the assumption that a high degree of clo-
sure existed in island/environment systems which made them useful objects
of study. "This assumption," according to Brookfield, "is not tenable
for the majority of the world's island communities and is not tenable for
any island in which externally generated development efforts are being
made." Colonial and mercantile expansion had subsumed previously inde-
pendent systems within larger hierarchical systems of spatial integra-
tion, to the detriment of both (Brookfield, 1980).
The Fiji carrying capacity project began when the entire MAB program
philosophy was shifting. By 1974 a major stumbling block was removed by
introduction of the concept of "the human use system" as defined in a
UNESCONAB (1974) document. The perspective of MAB shifted in less than
a year to incorporate a new kind of social science dimension into its
approach, one which defined the human use system as "Organizations
through and by which resources are managed. They vary in size and compo-
sition from the household or village to the nation state or multinational
corporation. In their spatial expression they are rarely, if ever, con-
gruent with ecosystems" (UNESCO/MAB, 1974).
In Brookfield's opinion, the importance of the concept of "human
use systems" lay in freeing the Man and the Biosphere Program from its
original insistence on the concept of man within the ecosystem. He
notes somewhat plaintively, however, that as the MAB program regarding
islands has evolved, human use systems (although acknowledged after 1974)
have generally been examined separately from the natural ecosystems
which they manage and exploit, and the problem of integration has not yet
been resolved. His project in Fiji is one of the few MAB initiatives
that has avoided this problem.

689

A few of Brookfield's conclusions drawn from the empirical field
work of interdisciplinary research teams in Eastern Fiji deserve a
brief summary here. They bear directly on the design of effective and
appropriate development intervention for island coastal ecosystems and
resources. When the project was conceived by the UNESCO/MAB task force
in 1974, the basic concern in man/environment interactions focused on
growth implications and the impacts of the increasing scale and volume
of human activity. Enlargements in the structure of human use and

resource management systems were presumed to result in the incorporation
of smaller systems as effective working sub-systems of the new enlarged
structures. Life would go on as before with the addition of a few new
rules. For example, an island government could quite logically design
a "rational" coastal zone management framework, using a scaled-down
external model, which would simply incorporate more traditional,
smaller human use systems and structures without injurious change.
At the same time, the central hierarchy of human use systems would
expand its sphere of influence. The planning and decision making pro-
cesses for those more universal (centrally perceived), more critical
resource management issues would provide the controls to improve or
guarantee the quality of life. This would protect the environment and
optimize coastal resource allocation and use. The evidence from the
Fiji field work, however, suggested that this assumption simply was not

true.

The historical process of change for Fiji's peripheral islands
was not transactional, but rather transformational. Smaller human use
systems on the periphery were not simply subsumed or affected in a be-
nign fashion; they were structurally transformed by the transition pro-
cess into something else. A lessening of resource use differentiation
and a loss of an internal capacity to manage those environmental and
other variables it had traditionally managed successfully were the re-
sults. This loss of management capacity and diminished differentiation
of use appeared to be a greater problem on the peripheral/marginal areas
than it was in the populated core areas which were presumably more
stressed. For these reasons, among others, Brookfield concluded (1980)

690

that one had to reject any notion that small islands, as man/environment

systems, were microcosms of conditions in the world or continents as a
whole. They were, however, representative of those parts of the world
that have been rendered peripheral by spatial structuring forces within
the larger world system.
In other words, islands are representative of peripheral regions
of Third World countries that are themselves peripheral within the
international system. Brookfield is positing the outline of a peripheral

or marginal systems paradigm to supplement or replace the island eco-
system paradigm (see Section 7).
In the Fiji case, as local peripheral human use systems were ab-
sorbed and transformed by larger systems in the process of development,
local decision making structures were "transformed" into a kind of

11 client" status within larger decision making structures. The division
of labor ended up being reallocated from the center, viewed in terms of
the demands of the larger absorbing system. The interdependence of the
smaller, diverse "satellite" islands' collectively self-reliant economies
were essentially destroyed and replaced by dependence on the center and
the world system which lies beyond it. The consequence was that the fine
mesh of "rational" resource allocation that had evolved out of the man/
environment relationship in the peripheral islands was, in effect,

removed.

The result is not, as noted earlier, a simple transactional pro-
cess of "change by consensus," but involves a "transformation" process
for the social, economic, and resource management systems in the out-
island areas. Therefore, any a priori presumption that the center is
more "rational" than the periphery in its resource allocation strategies
and priorities is, at best, risky. All too often, technical assistance
strategies do exactly this.

691

5.5 The CCOP/SOPAC Regional Coastal Zone Strategy for Islands
The Committee for Coordination of Joint Prospecting for Mineral Resources
in South Pacific Offshore Areas (CCOP/SOPAC) is an intergovernmental
body established under the sponsorship of the United Nations Economic
and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific (ESCAP). Its mission is
to develop and promote investigation of the mineral potential (including
petroleum) of shelves, platforms and the ocean floor in the South
Pacific Ocean. The present Committee, comprising ten island members, had
its origins in various planning sessions carried forward by ESCAP's
predecessor and others in late 1970 and early 1971. Considerable inter-
est had been expressed in the petroleum potential of the submerged shelf
areas of South Pacific islands after the 1968 discovery of seepages of
crude oil in,the Kingdom of Tonga. Increasing attention was paid to the
possibility of finding economic deposits of both petroleum and detrital
heavy minerals (placers) in the beach and nearshore areas of several

island countries. This coincided with rising interest in prospects of
mining manganese nodules from the Pacific Ocean floor for their metallic
Content. The inaugural session of CCOP/SOPAC was held in Suva, Fiji, in
1972, and annual meetings have been held in various member countries

since that date.
In 1974, the United Nations Development Program (UNDP) commenced
support of various planning and operational phases of the CCOP/SOPAC
regional program. In 1979 the terms of reference for the overall project
were expanded to include additional inshore "coastal" activities and
marine studies. Since that date, CCOP/SOPAC has responded to increased
requests from member countries for "inshore" baseline studies and tech-
nical assistance dealing with seabed sand dredging, sewage outfall sit-
ing, beach erosion and other coastal marine problems (Table 4). The
primary objective of the ancillary "inshore" program was to obtain and
make available to planners and engineers the environmental baseline data
needed to determine design criteria for ongoing or proposed development
activities in the coastal areas of member countries. A secondary ob-
jective was to encourage the development of a small group of trained
nationals capable of carrying out investigations, baseline measurements

692

Table 4. Examples of South Pacific Island Coastal and Inshore Marine Resource Development Program
Requests (1981). (Source: Towle, E., 1981.)

Categories Ocean Ports Sand Lagoons Fisheries Shoreline Impact Misc.
Outfalls and Supplv' and Support Erosion Assessment
Harbors Dredging Estuaries
Tasks/ Siting, Siting, Supply, Resource Baseline Dimensions Baseline, Training,
Needs Impact, Impact, Impact, Management Data, FAD Methods, Methods, Mapping,
Design Design Risks Criteria Siting Mitigation Training Education

Countrv

Cook
Islands X X X X X

Fiii X X X X X X X

Kiribati X X X X X

Papua New
Guinea X X X

Solomon
Islands X X X X X

Tonga X X X X X X X
\
Task s'
Nee Is

rv
Count

Vanuatu X X X X X

Western
Samoa X X X X X X X X
TOTALS 5 7 5 5 5 5 7 6"

and similar activities in the inshore marine environment with minimal

outside assistance. The overall inshore program has been designed to
address these two priorities and to be responsive to the marine resource
development initiatives of the member countries.
Carried forward since 1979 within the larger framework of the ESCAP/
UNDP offshore mineral prospecting project, CCOP/SOPAC's inshore program
has been extremely successful. Implementation has proceeded on a modest
scale amid the press of previously scheduled, larger scale offshore and
nearshore geophysical and geological program elements. The expansion of
the project's original terms of reference in 1979 to include nearshore
studies, training, and technical assistance was motivated by growing
awareness of the need to provide South Pacific island governments with
access to the technical expertise and data base. This information was
required by their planners and decision makers who were, on the one
hand, involved in the development of coastal resources, but, on the
other, sought to avoid adverse environmental impacts resulting from
their decisions and actions. It was a well conceived strategy to reduce
local risks and costs by improving project and facilities design and
siting, while utilizing local raw materials extracted from the coastal
zone and incorporating at the same time a local skills training and data

base building program component.
The CCOP/SOPAC inshore coastal resource program to date encompasses
major efforts in Fiji, Western Samoa, Tonga, the Cook Islands, New Gui-
nea, the Solomons, Vanuatu and Kiribati. Additionally, a series of
prototypic inshore/nearshore training workshops have been held in cooper-
ation with the University of the South Pacific (Institute of Marine
Resources), the United Nations University and the University of Hawaii
(International Sea Grant Program).
The inshore program is compatible with CCOP/SOPAC's basic mission of
supporting marine geophysical and geological surveys and data analyses
and marine mineral prospecting. It responds in a timely and relevant
fashion to member country requests for practical, short-term technical
assistance for inshore marine resource development projects, for baseline
data, and for site surveys. Further, it makes cost-effective use of com--

694

plex scientific equipment acquired by the project for esoteric, long
term, less visible offshore seabed hydrographic, oceanographic, and
geophysical investigations.
It also incorporates a reinforcing combination of (a) practical
short-term training on site; (b) extended, paraprofessional attach-
ment training at Suva project headquarters and on various
survey vessels; (c) problem-focused, short-term workshop training; and
(d) formal, thematically focused, earth science courses offered by the

University of the South Pacific.
Taken together, these four training elements of the CCOP/SOPAC
inshore program constitute an effective "marine literacy" strategy for
younger technicians from member island countries confronted with an
unfamiliar nearshore and deep-water environment. The CCOP/SOPAC inshore
initiative is a practical and regional marine resource development and
coastal zone management program in embryo. As such it adjusts its
participatory strategy to reflect country differences, local priori-
ties, available skills and institutions. It is problem-oriented and
seeks to use and improve existing human and institutional resources
currently engaged, although often inexpertly, in the marine resource
development process. The program has developed and maintains an effec-
tive network of active in-country participants and advisors which pro-
vides informational feedback loops and enhances a two-way flow of opera-

tional and technical data and counsel critical to the success of the
overall program (the CCOP/SOPAC telex network linking the participants
is an important technical element, but the "network" process is only
facilitated by, not dependent upon, the telex system).
There are some lessons to be learned from the CCOP/SOPAC experience.

Without a cadre of bottom and mid-level technicians in each island

country who are reasonably skilled in and conversant with the sampling,
numeration and mapping processes used in marine inshore areas, na-
tional or regional environmental management programs for islands are at
risk, if not scheduled to fail. A cadre of skilled para-scientists is a
sine qua non of effective inshore project design, impact mitigation,
monitoring, and evaluation. The ECNAMP project (Section 4.3) in the

695

Caribbean addresses this problem to a degree. The CCOP/SOPAC training
program in the Pacific, as designed and implemented, is even more re-
sponsive to this requirement. The existing technical skills training
curriculum for island country nationals is on target. Training is of-
ferred in bathymetry, cartography, field measurements, position fixing,
seabed and sub-seabed seismic profiling, side scan sonar mapping, pre-
cious coral stock surveys, current measurements (by dye, drogue and meter
methods), water quality indicators, sediments, and data recording, reduc-
tion and reporting techniques.
The CCOP/SOPAC approach, like that of ECNAMP in the Caribbean, has
been successful and cost-effective for a variety of reasons. It is flex-
ible, open7-ended, not too highly structured, relies principally on exist-
ing in-country persons and institutions, and maintains a closely coupled
network (horizontal and vertical) of users and cooperating local ager17
cies and institutions. It also has developed a management information
system, along with good communication linkages. Islands participate in
establishing priorities5 levels of effort, and, to a degree, levels of

precision. These islands are partners, not targets.
Both ECNAMP and CCOP/SOPAC make use of regional university-based
persons with expertise (but not so much the institutions themselves
which have a different agenda and more rigid calendars). Both emphasize
function rather than form, service rather than structure, building skills
rather than academic credits, and the long as opposed to the short
term. Mr. Cruz Matos, head of CCOP/SOPAC, and Mr. Allen Putney, princi-
pal investigator of ECNAMP, have been successful because they, quite
simply, understand islands better than most and have therefore been able
to develop workable programs (which are both pragmatic and non-formal)
for expanding local capacities to utilize and manage coastal resources.

696

6. TECHNICAL CONSIDERATIONS

6.1 Island Vulnerability: The Search for a Model

6.1.1 An Overview

Both natural and social scientists tend to agree on one important
characteristic of islands: their vulnerability to interference from
outside. Ironically, oceanic islands are increasingly vulnerable due to
their very isolation. In the past, this characteristic inhibited de-
velopment; now, however, remoteness is largely immaterial because of the

revolution in transportation and communications. The barrier of remote-
ness has been overcome by factors far removed from the shores of the
islands themselves -- factors that set up wholly unanticipated technolog-
ical encounters. Remoteness no longer guarantees freedom from pollution,
offshore oil spills, inappropriate coastal architecture, tourism, ocean
dumping of chemical wastes, or the destruction of habitats and indigenous
species (some endemic) by introduced exotic species. All have affected
oceanic islands in recent years.
The anomaly of the island situation is twofold. On the one hand,
increasing numbers of continentals regard islands as both idyllic sites
for vacation experiences and as superior sites for offshore banking
centers, free ports, and specialized industries (some seeking to escape
formal environmental controls). On the other hand, they often expect
islanders to develop their resources to service these demands inde-
finitely, yet with no loss of the unique character of the insular situa-

tion.

Additionally, isolation, circumscribed space, and other environmen-
tal factors affecting islands have resulted in specialized biotic and
human communities. The indigenous life forms of an oceanic island tend
to be less tolerant of changes in environmental conditions than those on
the margins of continents (Wood and Johannes, 1975). Man's intrusion on
some oceanic islands has been permanently devastating to fragile, long-
term, evolutionary interdependencies (Carlquist, 1965, 1972; Wace, 1978;
Gorman, 1979; Mueller-Dombois, 1973). Obviously, intensive and sophis-
ticated scientific research is indispensible for understanding the dimen-
sions of the problem. But as Fosberg noted twenty years ago:

697

It is clear enough that the arrival of man has invari-
ably increased, to some extent, the degree of instability
in these systems. With the advent of modern man this in-
crease has frequently assumed catastrophic proportions.
The losses in organic diversity, soil development, water
retention capacity, and biotic community organization
all amount to an increase in entropy; and in cases of
extreme degradation this increase has brought about a
high entropy level. It is suggested that this is bad
from any conceivable viewpoint.

One objective of the UNESCO Man and the Biosphere Program, launched
in 1973, was to assess the vulnerability of islands to exotic species
introduction. Another objective was to explore cultural, social, and
technological introductions as well, for these raise dependency levels.
It was hypothesized that most inhabited islands lie somewhere on a

continuum between two extremes. At one end, the least vulnerable are
those islands where external agents have had little impact on formerly
closed, self-equilibrating, self-sufficient systems. At the other end

of the continuum are islands with institutionalized openness, so heavily

affected by the impact of the outside world that the island system has

lost its internal capacity to manage the environment, prevent decay and
satisfy requirements for food, water, shelter, and other basic needs. As
a result, such islands have a high degree of vulnerability and depen-
dency.

It was assumed at the time that the island microcosm could model

both man's destruction of his own habitat and his success or failure in

achieving a steady-state adaptation to modified habitats. The microcosm
model would reflect his learning to live with the problems he had cre-

ated, thereby reducing his vulnerability over time. But the positive
(reinforcing) feedback loop from initial vulnerability to openness to
new dependencies back to increased vulnerability is difficult to control
in the face of new kinds of unanticipated external and internal driving
variables or factors. For example, in some cases, islands have been
catapulted, figuratively speaking, into the technological world of the
twentieth century within a decade or two. The environmental, cultural,

698

and economic impacts of these changes have been severe. The experiences
of these islands (with "high-tech" sewage treatment systems, desaliniza-
tion plants, agro-business enterprises, mining technologies, high-rise
hotel structures, jet airports, and pesticides) serve as harbingers of
what other developing islands may expect in the future.
The seriousness of the "technological encounter" is reflected in
widespread changes in uses of coastal land and in concomitant environ-
mental stresses and incompatibilities that the new activities create.
Exploring and drilling for oil and natural gas, tourism, and offshore
dredging are especially noteworthy in this regard because of their po-
tentially pervasive impacts on coastal areas, their presumed economic

benefits to traditional island economies, and the intensity with which
they are being pursued at present.
St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands, with 50,000 persons on 28
square miles (1,786 persons/square mile) serves as a useful case. It
is an oceanic island that has relied on technology and accepted depen-
dency status to overcome traditional barriers to development due to
resource scarcity. Because of its mountainous terrain, poor soil and
unreliable rainfall, more and more food for its burgeoning resident

population must be imported. Furthermore, fresh water, also scarce, must

either be imported by tanker or manufactured in costly desalinization
plants. Owing to the scarcity of construction aggregate, sand must be
imported and dredged from inshore areas, often with adverse effects.
Finally, because flat, developable land itself is in short supply, it is
11 created" by dredge-and-fill operations along the coast, disrupting

fisheries, damaging reefs, and degrading the quality of inshore water
(Frankenhoff, 1974; McElroy and Albuquerque, 1993).
An insidious aspect of the exogenous off-island influence factor is
the global-development phenomenon itself. Decisions that can affect an
island and its coastal zone may be made thousands of miles away, for
example, in the boardrooms of multinational corporations. The tourism
industry provides a good example: corporate hotel interests, interna-
tional airlines, cruise ship lines, travel agents, the publishing indus-
try, banks, metropolitan newspapers and television advertisements, and

699

even direct mail outlets have immense power to create tourism "booms" for
islands. In many cases, the insular areas which experience the full iM7
pact of this development may not themselves be the chosen target islands.
Rather, they may be swept along in a development thrust aimed at a sister
island, a neighboring archipelago, or even a broad oceanic region. With-
out advance notice and in the absence of contingency planning, the vul-
nerability of adjacent islands is exacerbated. In many cases, the pace
of change is incomprehensible and overwhelming.
This secondary transfer or "wake-effect" is most easily demonstrated
by the impact that the growth frenzy of the 1960's and 1970's in the U.S.
Virgin Islands had on the neighboring British Virgin Islands and on even
more distant islands in the Eastern Caribbean (Jackson, 1981; Howell and
Towle, 1976; Towle, Howell, and Rainey, 1976). The advent of regular
international jet air service between the United States, Australia and
New Zealand has had significant repercussions on South Pacific island
stop-over/refueling points such as Raratonga in the Cook Islands, Viti
Levu in Fiji, and even Pago Pago in American Samoa.

6.1.2 Indexing Insular Vulnerability
It has been suggested that a ranking system for vulnerability, reflecting
an island's position on a undeveloped/degradation/dependency continuum,
would provide a useful reference point. Such a rankifig system could
benefit both development assistance planning by "outsiders" and design
of national self-sufficiency strategies from "inside." However, there
are different sources, kinds, and levels of "vulnerability." For con-

venience, these are approached here within three artifically separated

categories or groups: the environmental system, the human system, and
the economic system. Each will be summarized separately.

First, the basic island ecosystem and its intrinsic environmental
characteristics and associated ecological vulnerabilities must be con-
sidered. Despite numerous prior attempts to classify these environmental
characteristics (see Section 3 above), no vulnerability ranking index
has been attempted as a component of other classification efforts by
scientists (Douglas, 1969; Pierre Gourou in Fosberg, 1963; UNCTAD, 1974).

7.30

However, the recent, subregional ecosystem assessment efforts of Putney
(1982) in the Caribbean and Dahl (1980) in the Pacific are useful proto-
types. In concert with UNEP's country environmental profiles, IUCN/WWF's
World Conservation Strategy, and the rather extensive literature base on
insular flora and fauna, the subregional assessments are sufficient to
permit formulation of a vulnerability ranking system for island eco-

systems.
Secondly, there is an insular "human system" (societal) vulnerabil-
ity factor which may be unique to island microcosms. With few excep-
tions, societal vulnerability has only recently been the subject of pre-
liminary investigations (Rappaport in Fosberg, 1963; Brookfield, 1977-
1980; UNESCO/MAB, 1974; MAB, 1977; and Stinner et al., 1982). An index-
ing/ranking system for this aspect of island system vulnerability is a
long way off as the social scientists have lagged behind their natural
science counterparts in building a generic island system data base.
Thirdly, there is the matter of insular economic vulnerability, by
far the most dynamic and least subtle of the three. This more quantifi-
able factor is quite possibly the most important in the short run because
it is the most amenable to modification from inside through domestic
national development planning and policy reorientation.

6.1.3 The "Unbalanced Books" Model: Islands At Risk

One clue to economic vulnerability is the level of island dependency
induced by external driving variables such as multinational initiatives,
bilateral and multilateral foreign aid, satellite communications and
international energy and commodity pricing programs. Numerous studies
have been completed on the economic dependency characteristics of smaller
island systems. Some focus on commodity trade and exports (UNCTAD, 1974
and Dommen, 1980a and 1983), some on production, diversity, and environ-
mental limits (for internal or external trade) (Brookfield, 1977-1980),
and still others on the openness of island economies (McElroy, 1978b and
1983). In 1981, Michael Hamnett and three colleagues of the East-West
Center's Pacific Island Development Program in Hawaii put together an
effective ranking strategy to establish an index of island economic

701

vulnerability. Based on a sample of fourteen Pacific island countries
and territories, the model provides a framework and simple formula to
assess six separate indicators of economic vulnerability (or per contra,
resiliency). In short, the model provides a format for establishing a
composite island vulnerability index and ranking number. A summary of
the results was recently published by the East-West Center (Hamnett
et al., 1981).
Hamnett and his colleagues observed that, although numerous oceanic

island areas had achieved political independence in the past twenty years
(nine in the Pacific and eight in the Caribbean), all remained econom-

ically dependent on external capital, commodity export markets, and out-
side sources of costly energy and development assistance. This dependen-
cy persisted despite efforts to achieve a respectable measure of economic
self-reliance. Some appeared more successful than others, and strategies
varied. For example, the head of Papua New Guinea's National Emergency
Service declined a million dollars in foreign aid disaster relief funds
in 1981, offered by the United Nations. This decision was based on the

grounds that such outside aid might make the recipients, and the
Melanesian nation itself, too dependent on outsiders in the future.
By way of contrast, in 1979 only about four percent of the revenues
of the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands were generated by economic
activity within the territory. The 100 million dollars (U.S.) being
provided to Micronesia suggests an index of emerging, irreversible de-
pendency. Western Samoa, which obtained nearly half of its foreign
assistance from various multilateral sources, may be slightly better off
and less vulnerable to the vicissitudes of outside policy changes.
Surely there was a way to assemble a useful "picture" of dependency
levels and types, based on this kind of information.
It was assumed by the Hamnett team (1981) that six major constraints
contributed to the economic dependence and vulnerability of island na-

tions and territories in the Pacific basin:

the need for some states, still not fully independent,

to gear their economies to the needs of a colonial
power rather than their own needs

702

0 the strain of trying to internally finance extensive

government programs
0 the high cost of energy coupled with the region's
almost complete dependence on imported fuels
0 an overreliance on imported food supplies
0 a lack of diversity in exports
0 an overdependence on foreign aid.

Using only readily available, standard statistical data and informa-
tion for 14 selected Pacific island areas, Hamnett and his associates

then converted these six constraints into the six sub-components of an
economic vulnerability index, namely, (1) foreign aid dependency, (2)
diversity of exports, (3) food substitutability (could the island feed
itself if it had to), (4) dependency upon imported fuel, (5) fiscal integ-
rity (cost of government operations compared to Gross Domestic Product),
and (6) political constraints (types of external ties affecting internal
decision making). Very simple, hand-calculation formulas were employed
to generate the six indices. The indices were then combined into a

composite index of economic vulnerability, shown in Table 5.
The last three entries in the table suggest that standard U.S.
domestic policies for its island territories may have produced some
adverse effects. They further suggest that current U.S. technical
assistance strategies for non-domestic developing islands may need re-
adjustment to ensure that increased local self-reliance is a targeted
objective, rather than an assumed by-product. The mere transfer of
funds to offshore island areas to address development problems is
not a final solution as it may unintentionally generate increased depen-
dency and, therefore, vulnerability. By skewing the allocation and
development of local resources in favor of imports and external control
factors, such practices too often leave the island with even fewer
options and more dependent than before. It also appears that the plan-
ning and design phases of island technical assistance projects should
incorporate "an assessment of vulnerability," perhaps as a new component
of the standard impact assessment.

703

Table 5. Composite index of economic vulnerability (Source: Hamnett
et al., 1981).

Ranking (least to most vulnerable)
Tonga (1)
Solomons (2)
Papua New Guinea (3)

Fiji (4)
Western Samoa (4)

Vanuatu (5)

Kiribati (6)
Cooks (7)

Tuvalu (8)
New Caledonia (9)
Niue (10)
French Polynesia (11)

Trust Terr. of the Pacific Is. (U.S.) (12)
Guam (U.S.) (13)

American Samoa (U.S.) (14)

For this to succeed, however, Hamnett's prototype "island economic
vulnerability model" needs both refinement and regular updates. Addi-
tionally, a similar composite economic vulnerability index would be an
instructive development planning tool for the Caribbean and Indian Ocean
island areas. What is ultimately needed, however, is an island economic
vulnerability index for all developing islands regardless of their loca-
tion or political status. Similar vulnerability indices could also be
developed for specific island ecosystems (as natural but modified or
stressed systems) and possibly of insular coastal zones.
But for development planning, the numbers are not as important as
the interrelationships among the six constraints. Even island systems

are complex, and the trade-offs between various constraints and options
need to be recognized, ranked, evaluated, and employed as inputs to the
strategic planning process for development, if insular vulnerability is

704

to be kept within lower risk ranges and manageable bounds.
One Pacific islander summed it all up rather nicely when he said,
"For independent small island states the real issue is the nature and
degree of dependence because they really only have independence of limit-
ed choice within a dependent system" (Kavaliku, 1980).
The implications of all of the above for island coastal zones, for
Exclusive Economic Zones (EEZ's) and for marine resource development
strategies lie far beyond the scope of this study and are a task for yet
another day. But foreign aid and technical assistance programs are an
ongoing present day phenomena. Therefore, the following section explores
the linkage between island coastal and marine resource development, on
the one hand, and island vulnerability mitigation on the other.

6.2 Coastal and Marine Resources: An Island Dilemma

6.2.1 The Risks of Development
Developing island countries, especially the smaller systems, are particu-
larly dependent upon their surrounding marine environments and coastal
zone. Populations, ports, marinas, mangrove lagoons, major cities, arti-
sanal fisheries critical to local food supplies, occasionally a commer-
cial pelagic fisheries industry, some agriculture, all watershed drain-
age, and most industrial, commercial, and energy supply activity are
clustered in this highly complex, circumferential area where the island

meets the sea.

The greater the pace of island development, the greater the stress
placed upon this high-energy, pollution prone interface of interacting
terrestrial and marine ecosystems. These pressures create a need to de-
vise workable and appropriate management strategies and practices for the
resource base to achieve sustainable development goals. But this is not
easy to accomplish because most proven continental and temperate zone
approaches, procedures and models are inappropriate for tropical and sub-
tropical seas, where the majority of developing islands are situated.
The greater the degree of island openness (and therefore vulnerability),
the greater the risk of imported, irreversible, potentially destructive
schemes, technologies, and capital investments.

705

Fortunately, the miniscule size of oceanic island areas tends to
rule out most of the spectacular strategies and technological options for
achieving a new kind of power over nature because the resources are
simply not generally available to carry out this conquest. Nevertheless,
islands should not allow themselves to be inveigled or importuned by
multinational corporations and aid programs "peddling" high technologies
to accept a kind of Faustian bargain to conquer nature in their own
island ecosystem. This is one of the few cases where the "economy of
scale" principle benefits islands. Some things are just too big to fit!
For example, most islands are too small to provide a sufficient
market for the alleged minimum bottom-end/break-even point for "super-
tech" energy systems--like nuclear power generation (500 to 1,000 mega-
watts) or ocean thermal energy conversion (OTEC) strategies (200 to 500
megawatts) (Cohen and Dunning, 1978). But their isolation and strategic
locations, not their market potential, open them up to other coastal
dependent high-technology uses such as oil refinery sites, super tanker
deep-water transshipment terminals, rented military bases (US$200
million/year to the Phillipines) and test sites, and ever larger

destination sites for tourists.

On a less dramatic, but more extensive, scale, island coastal areas
have been and continue to be victimized by carelessly planned marine sand
mining schemes; mariculture ventures; municipal and industrial wastewater
discharge outfalls; port terminal, breakwater and causeway construction;
coral harvesting; solid waste disposal activity (with associated
leachates); and the discharge of cannery wastes.
Once again, it is a case of good intentions gone astray because of
systemic deficiencies on the part of both island leadership (tending to
look outward for assistance) and development institutions (which often
assume existing program and project planning, review, and evaluation
mechanisms will weed out the unworkable or non-productive, environmen-
tally objectionable development schemes). Most of these activities
are carried forward with externally provided bilateral and multilateral
development assistance funding. In theory, negative impacts can be an-
ticipated and eliminated, or reduced to acceptable levels, by the funding

706

agency's requirement of an environmental impact assessment (EIA) and by
applying standard "islana specific" criteria, conformance r-ests and
project post-audits. However, the last three are rarely completed.
These steps pius programs to train islanders and provide assistance
in building island institutions to address "environmental issues" help
to insure that environmental constraints in the development process are
locally defined and applied. The emphasis here, however, is not about
applying constraints on development. Rather, the concern is to under-
stand generic constraints on island strategies for development and
undesireable constraints on future options caused inadvertedly by ill-
conceived development schemes. There are several very specific constraints
or problems which affect the design quality, effectiveness and the implicit
element of risk in most island development projects.
Tropical marine and coastal ecosystems pose an especially difficult
environmental management problem. Their chemical and physical character-
istics, their community structure, and their biological functions differ
or behave differently from their better known temperate zone counter-
parts. Tropical island systems tend to have lower tolerances to various
kinds of abnormal stress resulting from excessive and recurring concen-
trations of waste discharges in any particular location, principally but
not entirely because of their smaller size and reduced ecological diver-
sity. A detailed tabular summary of how tropical systems differ from
temperate continental coastal systems is provided by Johannes and Betzer
(1975), a very useful document for coastal resource development planners.
The dispersal, breakdown, uptake and impact of water pollutants (includ-
ing sediment discharge) also differ quantitatively in the tropics. An
appreciation and understanding of how they differ are essential for
proper marine resource planning, structural design, environmental moni-
toring, and impact mitigation strategies in tropical waters.
In the meanwhile, tropical island coastal "zones" remain at risk
because of their contemporary uses, because they are more sensitive to
stress (than continental, temperate systems), and because we are slow
in applying what we already know about pollution loading limits, thres-
holds, standards, and appropriate practices under insular circumstances.

707

6.2.2 The Promise of Development
While island coastal zones and marine resources are ecologically vulner-
able and are the target of not inconsiderable contemporary development
activity, they also constitute the best hope for islands to recover a
degree of self-reliance, thereby reducing some types of less desireable
dependencies. The logic of our emphasis on coastal and marine resource
development within the smaller island context is straightforward. The
practice of exchanging traditional, precarious, export-based, plantation-
type mono-culture (sugar, copra, bananas, nutmeg) for new export-based
industries such as more diversified agriculture and mini-agro-business,
enclave tourism, and manufacturing has not really worked well. It has
worked only when supported by massive foreign aid which props up the
economy to compensate for export revenue failures and provide funds for
expanding social programs (McElroy, 1978a). One style of dependency
has simply been traded for another, leaving the local economy with
essentially undeveloped, internal linkages (especially in clustered,
multi-island systems) and a weak economic base for self-sustaining
growth both essentially unchanged (Brookfield, 1977, 1980). And still
the question remains of how an island breaks out of this expanding
framework of constraints, dependencies, and vulnerability, especially
when "land resources" are still heavily influenced by surviving remnants
of the "plantation system," even in newly independent islands.
Our purpose in focusing on the development potential of coastal
resources is to address the matter of historical dependencies and
recurring cyclic instability, induced principally by external forces.
Devising an island coastal resource development management strategy then
can be seen as essentially an "... orderly attempt to gain a degree

of internal control over one area of the domestic domain that is still

amenable to public intervention, namely the vital resources of the
coastal zone" (emphasis added) (McElroy, 1978a).

Given the recent addition of the 200--@mile "exclusive economic zone"
(EEZ) concept to the traditional coastal zone, Dolman (1982) is probably
correct in observing that "ocean space and marine resources may be the
comparative advantage of Island states which can be exploited to the

708

benefit of both people and as a source of foreign exchange." He is
certainly correct in deploring the fact, again specifically referring
to island systems, that "the seas and their resources have been forgotten
in development thinking and planning, in part as a consequence of colon-
ialism and preoccupation of colonial managers with cash crops and the
exploitation of land based resources."
Dolman fails, however, to convey a feeling for both the magnitude of
the "coastal/marine space/EEZ" resource assessment task and the dimen-
sions of coastal and offshore resource management responsibilities for
smaller island areas with underdeveloped institutional and technical
capabilities for such tasks (see Section 6.3).
Villamil (1974) may have been ahead of his time when, in discussing
open-system planning, he noted that "...the survival of small island sys-
tems depends on the adoption of development paths which are responsive to
their characteristics and aspirations." The surrounding, encompass-
ing, ever present sea-context of an insular system may force just such a
reorientation in resource development perspectives. Islands, by defini-
tion, have far more "coastal zone" per unit of land area or population
than continental systems. It is one of their unique characteristics, and
it holds a relatively undeveloped set of resources, especially if one

considers the EEZ as a part of the coastal zone.
Obviously, in each island country, a long-range coastal zone-marine
space management strategy is needed to serve locally defined objectives.
At a minimum, such a strategic planning effort should assure orderly
development of more familiar, more accessible inshore and coastal re-
sources, and to protect (conserve) the offshore EEZ resources until such
time as the island has the technical capacity to design and implement
appropriate resource development activities. In sum, if island coastal
zones are as important to island futures as we argue (on the basis of the
literature, our examples, and our experience), then it behooves bilat eral
and multilateral technical assistance agencies aiding in the process of
island development to pay more attention to expanding the capacity of
island systems to optimize the uses of their coastal resources and to
conceptualize new uses for their newly demarcated EEZ marine space.

709

6.2.3 Developing Marine and Coastal Resources: Early Initiatives
For most continental countries, concern with the ocean, marine resources
and even coastal matters is a rather small part of their larger national
interest. This is also true for many newly independent island states
struggling with basic problems of nationhood, divestiture of colonial
ties, encouraging a sense of national identity and creating a viable
economic system out of traditional plantation7based agriculture and other
land-based enterprises within a volatile world economy. Therefore, an
appreciation for the development potential of insular marine and coastal
resources is a relatively new phenomena and experimental attempts to in-
ventory and evaluate the components, assess their economic potential and
devise an integrated framework or model for their development and manage-
ment are even now just beginning to surface in a serious and productive

way.
Exactly ten years ago a United Nations' study on the special char-
acteristics and problems of "Developing Island Countries" devoted only
two paragraphs (out of 44 pages) to the exploitation and control of
marine resources (UNCTAD, 1974). The following year another arm of the
United Nations also devoted only two paragraphs in a 26-page brief on
coastal area management and development to the special coastal problems
of developing island countries (UN/ECOSOC, 1975a), while a second 60-page
UN paper on "Marine Questions: Uses of the Sea" does not discuss islands
at all (UN/ECOSOC, 1975b). During the 1970's the UN Ocean Economics and
Technology Office and UNESCO's separate Marine Science Division and its
Man and the Biosphere program did a little better by islands and de-
veloped special initiatives to adapt emerging continental coastal zone
management, environmental education, marine science training, and man-
environment research perspectives to islands and island groups in the
Caribbean, the South Pacific and elsewhere (UNESCO, 1973, 1974, 1981;
Valencia, 1981).
Since about 1978, other regionally focused, internationally spon-
sored attempts to develop island-specific "coastal resource" initiatives
have emerged under the aegis of CCOP/SOPAC (see Section 5.5), the
United Nations Development Advisory Team (Baines, 1981), UNEP's

710

Caribbean and South Pacific regional environmental planning strategies
(UNEP, 1980; Dahl, 1980), the University of the South Pacific in Fiji
(which established an Institute of Marine Resources under the director-
ship of Dr. Uday Raj), and the East-West Center at the University of
Hawaii (Hamnett et al., 1981 and Valencia, 1981). Each of these repre-
sents continuing program efforts.
In the non7government sector (which has greater freedom to experi-
ment) parallel but different approaches to island coastal and marine
resource development and management problems have emerged since the
mid-1970's. Useful initiatives have been undertaken by the following:
Dalhhousie University of Nova Scotia (Caribbean - see Mitchell
and Gold, 1982 and Gold et al., 1982)
The RIO Foundation (Caribbean, Pacific, and Indian Ocean - see
Dolman et al., 1982)
The German Foundation for International Development (Caribbean
and Pacific - see Szekielda and Breuer, 1976)
The Eastern Caribbean Natural Area Management Program (ECNAMP)
(under the aegis of the University of Michigan and the Caribbean
Conservation Association, with primary funding from Rockfeller

Brothers Fund, International Union for Conservation of Nature
[IUCNI and World Wildlife Fund [WWF] - see Geoghegan, 1983;
Putney, 1981 and 1982)
Environmental Research Projects (Caribbean - see Goodwin and
Taylor, 1981; Goodwin and Cambers, 1983)

Island Resources Foundation (Caribbean and Pacific - see Towle,
1978, 1979a, 1979b, 1981).
Some of these experimental private sector strategies by non-profit
organizations have potential as model components of larger more compre-
hensive governmental coastal resource management schemes. Others offer
alternative approaches altogether.
Each of these "experiments," involving island governments but ini-
tiated by non-government organizations, has been a learning experience
for the sponsoring institution and for island governments, plannerb
and managers. Some approaches (ECNAMP, CCOPISOPAC, and Dalhousie) have

711

had longer time frames and been more effective than others; all. remain
functional, and none should be overlooked in the near future as "how-to-
do-it" models by those designing and planning, within larger frameworks,
bilateral or multilateral technical assistance strategies addressing
island coastal zones and marine resource management. The nucleus of a
new "integrated" approach is beginning to take shape, but there is no

one preferred model as yet.

6.2.4 The "Resource Management Community"
One recent private approach to marine resource management in the Eastern
Caribbean (see Section 4.3) has demonstrated the value of emphasizing
local participation, communication, and consensus-building strategies

through carefully established networks of resource users, technicians,
scientists, planners and managers. Taken together, in the smaller island
context, this heterogeneous grouping can be conceived of as a "resource
management community"--a concept which lends itself to using a consensus
strategy for both planning and management. This can be illustrated as

follows.

In continental societies, as even in some larger islands, a marine
or coastal resource manager is generally assumed to be a professional-
level government official charged with the guidance and control of re-
source usage operating within an established framework of plans, poli-
cies, rules, regulations, buttressed by legislation. One should not
assume, however, that the absence of professionals in any given island
means that no resource management takes place. In most traditional
island societies, especially those with extensive subsistence-level
coastal villages, an alternative resource management system has evolved
over time among the resource users. By custom they apply management
techniques learned through experience to sustain the resources upon
which they depend. Sometimes a whole village or groups of users in a
cooperative format develop strategies to protect the resource base
which they understand and identify as vital to their future. As in the
case of the fishing village of Gros Islet in St. Lucia (Section 4.1) or
the coastal villages in Fiji (Section 5.3), collectively learned "wisdom"

712

about the nature and limits of the resource base resulted in different
but similar "limited entry" strategies. As Geoghagen (1983) has recently
reported, there are many other instances of island fishing communities
"... voluntarily closing off certain fishing areas where overfishing
has reduced yield, until the stock is replenished .... " These actions
select the "option that will be of greatest benefit to them in the long
run. This kind of self-regulation allows the resource users to retain
control of their own lives and of the resources upon which they depend."
Furthermore, the use of consensus-building networks as a management
tool should not be underestimated. By improving communication channels
between user groups, planners and government managers, various existing
traditional, community-based management mechanisms, not normally recog-
nized or used by government, can be identified and utilized effectively
in a more holistic coastal resource management strategy.

6.3 The Economic Significance of Island Coastal/Marine Resources
Insular countries have two things in common with continental countries.
First, both have a "national interest" in oceans (Alexander, 1973), as
evidenced by the bitter debates over EEZ boundaries at UN Law of the Sea
III and continuing bilateral negotiations to define shared boundaries.
Second, neither insular or continental states have made significant
progress in quantifying the economic significance or contribution of
coastal and marine resources to the national economy as a whole or in
establishing the dimensions of forward and backward linkages and multi-
pliers for ocean7-related industry. National accounts simply are not kept
in a way that makes it easy to separate ocean-related economic acti-
vity. The principal problem is that national income accounts are main-
tained on a production, industry or activity sector basis (e.g., forestry,
manufacturing, etc.) with no spatial breakdown. For example, there are
gross tourism industry figures but no separation of land-dependent from
sea-dependent tourism.
A way to solve this problem, however, has been recently developed by
four enterprising economists from Columbia University's Graduate School
of Business, who designed a conceptual and statistical methodology for

713

extracting the needed ocean-related economic figures from available cen-
sus data and the national income accounting system. In 1980, they pub-
lished their findings in a significant article entitled "Contribution of
the Ocean Sector to the United States Economy" (Pontecorvo et al.,
1980). Based on their model, the aggregate value of the U.S. ocean
sector for 1972, the most recent year at the time for which data was
available, was $30.6 billion, comparable to agriculture at $35.4 and
communications at $29.4, but significantly larger than mining, oil, and
gas at $18.9. Note, however, that since the total U.S. GNP for 1972 was
$1,171.1 billion, the ocean sector contributed only 2.6 percent of this--
not a terribly impressive figure.

In islands, however, as we will demonstrate in a moment, the situa-
tion is markedly different. The Pontecorvo model had been circulated in
1979 as a research working paper and caught the attention of an equally
enterprising group of researchers at the Dalhousie University Ocean
Studies Program (DOSP) in Canada interested in the EEZ question as it re-
lates to insular systems. The DOSP group had previously been investigat-
ing certain marine law and policy questions in the Eastern Caribbean
where island countries are close together and conflicts over use of the
sea were emerging. When the Foundation for Reshaping the International
Order (RIO) of the Hague, Netherlands, cast about looking for an institu-
tion to carry out two case studies (Grenada and St. Lucia) dealing with
the capability of smaller island states to deal with EEZ's, marine space
and economic development, the Dalhousie group was selected and supplemen7
tary funding support obtained from the Canadian International Development
Agency (CIDA). Under the direction of Dr. Edgar Gold, the project re-
search team of ten persons (including three West Indians) commenced work
in 1980 and by 1982 had completed two significant reports, one dealing
with development and ocean management in the Eastern Caribbean (Gold
et al., 1982) and the other entitled "The Integration of Marine Space in
National Development Strategies of Small Island States" (Mitchell and
Gold, 1982). Taken together, they represent a truly new approach, in
part because they adapted the Pontecorvo methodology to island situ-
ations (St. Lucia and Grenada).

714

The approach used was simple and straightforward enough to apply
to any island state, using available data without computers or sophis-
ticated economic procedures. While the procedure needs refinement, it
does offer the opportunity of establishing an economic rationale for
placing greater emphasis on developing improved island coastal and marine
resource assessment, planning, development, and management efforts.

Ocean- and coastal-related industries and uses are first identified
and sorted into two categories, depending on whether they directly uti-
lize an "ocean/coastal" resource in a harvesting or productive process
(supply side, as in the case of fisheries or a marina or resort hotel) or
exist because the demand for the establishment's "product or service" is
due in part to some attribute of the ocean or coastal zone (demand side,
as a contractor who builds a dock for a marina, a store that sells boat
engines, or a wholesaler or farmer providing provisions to coastal
hotels). The next step involved attempts to measure linkage effects

between various industries involved on both "sides" and then effects on

the island economy as a whole. Linkages were split out as follows:
backward, where growth and development in ocean/coastal
industries induce investment and development in other sec-
tors, providing inputs to ocean/coastal industries such as
boat and ship building, port facilities, engine repair and
other service activity
forward, where ocean/coastal industries exert an influence
on industries using "products" from the coastal/marine zone
as an input such as coral sand and block for construction
use, fish processing
demand, where incomes generated by marine/coastal related in-
dustries stimulate increased demands for consumer goods and

services.

Using this approach, the DOSP team then developed an ecodevelopment
framework for applying a simple model for an integrated marine system to
enhance island development and economic self-sufficiency. Despite im-
plicit weaknesses (for example, it leaves out local village-based subsis-
tence marine protein production values), the DSOP project established

715

one very important fact--islands' coastal and marine resources are far
more significant than previously realized by most development planners.
The reader will recall that only 2.6 percent of the 1972 GNP for
the United States was attributed to "ocean-related activity." By way of
contrast, that figure based on DSOP findings for St. Lucia (1978) was 33
percent of GNP, for Antigua-Barbuda 32 percent of GNP (1981). and for
Grenada (1978) over 30 percent (Mitchell and Gold, 1982). These islands
were at least ten times more dependent on coastal and marine resources
than the United States--a rather compelling argument for paying more at-
tention to devising appropriate management strategies for island coastal
zones and associated marine resources and for carrying out a similar
coastal/marine economic assessment for other developing islands.
One barrier to getting on with these tasks is the "land" orientation
of most island planners and the absence of marine resource professionals
in most island planning units--a matter addressed in the next section.

6.4 Island Coastal Resource Planning
6.4.1 Conceptual Problems
Over the past two decades, developing island countries in the Caribbean,
the Pacific and the Indian Ocean area have consistently acknowledged the
need, embraced the principles, and, largely with the technical assistance
of the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), established the basic
framework for physical and economic planning (UNDP, 1977). All island
countries have planning units, some more centralized and comprehensive
than others, some still partially staffed by expatriate professionals,

but most staffed by islanders trained in universities abroad or region-
ally by continental instructors with continental perspectives and a fun-
damental preoccupation with land-based physical planning. Geoghegan is
partially correct when she observes that "... smaller islands have often
tried importing the planning techniques of industrialized nations, even
though limited size and financial resources make those techniques unwork-
able" (1983). The central problem is the ignorance of most planners
about marine ecosystems, resources, industries, uses, and such things as
ships, ports, fisheries, and how to map corresponding data.

716

Why is this the case, even though islands have a larger stake in the
proper planning of coastal and marine resource use than their continental
counterparts? The root of the difficulty, in the author's opinion, lies
in the land-focused planning models transplanted by the UNDP and others
into the island context. As a result, the existing central planning
offices, natural resource ministries and statistical agencies of the
smaller island states involved in the CCOP/SOPAC inshore program do
not, at the present time, collect, store, analyze or report most of the

kinds of marine and coastal baseline environmental data needed for

coastal resource development planning and for the optimal engineering
design of marine structures and facilities. The same is true for the
independent island states in the Eastern Caribbean.
Out of the 16 island government planning units visited by the
author over the past five years, not one could provide a "sea-use map"
comparable to readily available detailed and continually updated land
use maps. Soil but not sea "capability" maps were available. Not one
had a detailed map of coastal erosion sites, of former dredging sites, of
pollution prone/stressed coastal environments, of vessel traffic, or of
anchorage/mooring patterns for boats comparable to their detailed vehic-
ular traffic and parking plans. Not one had thought about sea area
.. zoning" controls comparable to land zoning. In all sixteen cases, data
were available on land but not sea mining sites, on hotel but not charter
yacht bed nights, on agricultural input but not marine sector input to
GNP, on taxi drivers but not boat operators, on potential geothermal or
hydro-power generation sites on land but not on nearshore cold water
upwelling zones with thermal energy conversion potential.

6.4.2 Information Problems

Not only is site-specific coastal resource user data (quantitative, spa-
tial, or qualitative) generally unavailable, but routine environmental
data is also hard to obtain. At a UN/ESCAP (Economic and Social Commis-
sion for Asia and the Pacific)-sponsored workshop on environmental sta-
tistics held at the East-West Center in Hawaii (October 1980), it was
concluded that "a major handicap for the inclusion of ... environmental

717

considerations in development planning is the lack of environmental
data on which environmental agencies may base their judgments within
the context of planning efforts" (UN/ESCAP, 1980). Additionally, it was
also found that "... environmental statistics per se are not collected"

by government statistical offices.
Even in U.S. offshore island areas like the Virgin Islands, Puerto
Rico, Guam and Samoa, which already have developed coastal zone manage-
ment plans and programs as part of a larger national strategy, the pro-

blem persists because of a structural failure in the design concept.
The basic framework was designed for coastal states of the United States,
many of which already had elaborate information collection, storage, and
retrieval systems, extensive baseline data, numerous cooperating institu-
tions, overlapping agency jurisdictions and, to a degree, a tradition of
data sharing, exchange and transfer. But when the concept was trans-
planted to offshore insular systems, with only some minor modifications,
the absence of a data base, storage, retrieval and management information
system (as a program component) became a serious limiting factor.
These planning and information "failures" are not, however, so much
the island's fault as the result of inappropriate approaches imposed

from outside--models derived from continental areas with less at stake in

the "coastal zone." Further, on the basis of three quite different
experiments, two in the Caribbean (ECNAMP and Dalhousie) and one in the
South Pacific (CCOP/SOPAC/Inshore Program), reviewed elsewhere in this
document, it is clear that there are ways to temporarily circumvent
these problems and get on with effective insular coastal resource de-
velopment and management efforts.
In the ECNAMP (Caribbean) case, the ongoing resource data inventory,
mapping and analysis effort has emphasized local participation in the
collection of existing, best available data, downplays research/field
work, while emphasizing training and use of mid-level prototypic resource
managers (both government and non-government) supplemented by in-region
generalists, all within a closely coupled network of participants ex-
changing, reviewing, storing, and using data on both a single island and
a regional level. Formats are kept simple, data distribution is wide,

718

and feedback loops are carefully cultivated for updating the data base.
The ECNAMP program has been strong on qualitative resource and user
assessment and weak on quantitative resource and user data.
By way of contrast, the CCOP/SOPAC/Coastal Resource Program has
tended to emphasize mid to lower level technicians (in geology, oceano-
graphy, marine science, fisheries, etc.); training in more precise car-
tographic, oceanographic, resource assessment skills; technical agency
and university networking; and on-site applied quantitative research

and measurement, with less emphasis on generating qualitative coastal
resource and user information, more on improving local quasi-professional
skills and performance capabilities, and on island specific problem
solving (e.g., where and how to site an outfall or a sand mining effort).
The Dalhousie approach (Section 6.3), while less participatory,
nonetheless addresses both the planning and informational lacunae, with
an emphasis on the latter. All three approaches offer guidelines for a
more effective comprehensive approach.
The nucleus of a conceptual management-information framework for
combining these three different but promising efforts is provided by
Wilimovsky (1979) in his paper on minimal data requirements for aquatic
resource management in developing countries. Wilimovsky notes that de-
cision making is generally based on readily "available data," appropri-
ately processed, interpreted and communicated; and "the manner in which
such information is conveyed to the user essentially and effectively
controls the degree to which one receives, understands, and accepts the
information as knowledge" upon which to base decisions. There is con-
siderable evidence to support Wilimovsky's charge that many resource data
collection programs overemphasize precision, even though at the manage-
ment/decision level the very precise data is combined with imprecise
guesses. Although the data base for coastal resource managers in small
islands is marginal, it is still accessible, useable, and improveable if
a management information system sensitive to local conditions, practices,
sources and users is designed, put in place and made to work.
Lastly, a word about non-formal information sources is important.
Data collection and marine resource management efforts should not only

719

incorporate but reflect "local lore" drawn from traditional island
fishermen, ship captains, divers, and other long-standing local sub-

sistence and small-scale commercial users of the marine and coastal

environment. Such persons need to be encouraged to participate in the
information network (Baines, 1982; Johannes, 1978; Putney, 1981;
Geoghegan, 1983). Regular consultation with such individuals for data
collection purposes becomes the entry point for their direct participa-
tion in the planning and implementation of the management strategy

itself.

720

7. SYNTHESIS: FROM THEORY TO PRACTICE

7.1 The Island Puzzle

Luigi Pirandello's famous play "Six Characters In Search of An Author"
provides the inspiration for this summary section wherein we explote the
progress being made toward developing a new framework or paradigm for
perceiving and understanding the "genius" or nature of small island
places and the driving forces which both sustain and change them. The
search for a new island paradigm has been years in the making, and we--
islanders and continentals alike--are still in a transition period re-
garding the theory of the island circumstance. For those practical
persons seeking to identify leverage points and appropriate mechanisms
to assist in the complex process of aiding "sustainable" island develop-
ment (or ecodevelopment), the insular coastal zone management and
environmental planning strategies currently being refined offer some
hope of defining more holistic perspectives on "rational resource use"
and more effective intervention strategies appropriate to island systems.
But there are problems. The very diversity, ubiquity, heterogen-
eity, and remoteness of islands induces enormous variations in how they
are perceived--conceptually, metaphorically, analytically, descriptive-
ly. At one and the same time they are closed, self-sufficient, idyllic,
isolated and, alternatively, open, dependent, parasitic, linked. They
are both prisons of the mind and places of renewal of the human spirit.
While they are living laboratories, metaphorical models and museums of
evolution, they are also spatially unique microcosms of some external
human ecosystems and a viable home to islanders who have traditionally
faced and adjusted to the insular condition with all its vicissitudes

and variations.

Perhaps islands and islanders, in all their global diversity,
demonstrate an anthropomorphic version of Werner von Heisenberg's princi-
ple of uncertainty--even the act of observing (or using) them induces
change in the thing being examined. Hence, the result is a kaleidoscope
of images reflecting the insular condition.
In any event, attempts to classify, categorize, enumerate, and label
islands have, to date, been far from successful. There is still no

721

really useful taxonomy (or classification framework) of island systems.
Neither is there a comprehensive or even partial assessment of the "glo-
bal resource" (as we have, for example, in the case of mangrove systems,
coral reefs, forests, marine mammals, or endangered species). What we do
have is a vast spectrum of diverse islands and an evolving set of "island
tested" or island specific models or methodologies which sequentially
and cumulatively are effecting a shift in the way "islands" and insular-
ity are perceived.

7.2 The Island Ecosystem Paradigm
There has been a long tradition of systematic investigation of islands
by natural scientists. For all of the natural science disciplines,
islands have provided a kind of living microcosmic laboratory of great
value. Within the past half century, the flexible concept of the "eco-
system" has become the dominant "framework" for island research to define
study area boundaries and sets of factors (variables) to be included or
excluded. Best articulated by Fosberg (1963) but replicated by dozens of
other theoreticians and employed by thousands of scientific practition-
ers, the island ecosystem and its varying assemblages of lesser sub-unit
ecosystems became the standardized and accepted way of looking at is-
lands. And, in the absence of any appropriate paradigm except for the
Darwinian evolution theory and the MacArthur and Wilson "spatial isola-
tion" theory of island biogeography (which were both derived from island
observations), the "ecosystem" model became in effect a surrogate para-
digm.

Under the post-World War II impacts of internationalized decoloni-
zation and development assistance initiatives, in combination with drama-
tic shifts in air transport and electronic communication technologies,
islands everywhere began to experience new kinds of pressure on their
environments. These threats to the insular environment (ecosystems to
some) carried implications beyond irreversible changes in physical and
biological assets. The environment is an integral part of the total
island matrix that defines the quality of life for island peoples and
visitors alike. The somewhat vague concept of "quality of life" has

722

slowly gained favor as the framework for merging economic, social, and
environmental development objectives. It expanded the narrow measure of
progress by standard economic indices such as GNP and per capita income,
incorporating other social-welfare indicators, environmental factors,
traditional resource uses, and amenities which constitute a vital part of
any island's life-support system.
The decade of the 1970's, however, saw a more fundamental redefini-
tion of the island ecosystem model with an increasing emphasis placed on
island people, socio-economic vulnerability, system complexity, and the
importance of traditional resource management approaches2 all reflecting
the uncertainties of island life due to natural hazards, historical de-
pendency factors, isolation, independence (for some) and expanding so-
cial, economic, and technological pressures from outside.
Beginning in 1973, the UNESCO Man and the Biosphere Program
launched a rather significant long-term research project focusing on
"Islands and the Rational Use of Island Ecosystems," which is still
ongoing although its approaches are very different from those of 1973.
The island-man-island ecosystem transactional model is slowly being
modified by the addition of both center-periphery considerations in
multi-island systems and human system transformation theory for "outer
islands" (Brookfield, 1977, 1978a,b, 1979, 1980), and more recently by the
addition of the "vulnerability" model of Hamnett et al. (1981) and the
experimental island marine economy model of the Dalhousie University
research team in the Eastern Caribbean (Gold et al., 1982, and Mitchell
and Gold, 1982).

7.3 Towards A New Paradigm
Environmental problems generated by island development are neither in7-
cidental or ephemeral, especially because they add new limits to already
naturally constrained future options. As island habitats are reshaped,

the environmental transformation induced by development is resulting in
significant cultural reorientations and changes in the institutional
structure whereby humans address the environment. Systematic investiga-
tions into these processes is called human ecology. It represents an

723

approach which seeks to bridge the gap between the natural and social
sciences and is based on the premise that human social systems and natu-
ral ecosystems each influence the other and changes in one system are
quite likely to generate compensatory changes in the other.
But for human ecology to be useful in optimizing development
choices and minimizing man/environment conflict, the natural and social
sciences need to work together as equal partners, a circumstance which
rarely occurs. Social scientists seldom participate in resource manage-
ment and environmental planning activities, and such programs are cus-
tomarily developed largely by the natural and physical scientists. When
social scientists do become involved, it is usually to provide some in-
cidental, peripheral commentary on an already defined program; they are
brought in long after the design phase to provide a "token" social
science input. In one recent coastal zone planning format prepared
specifically for Third World country use, "legal, political, financial,
and cultural factors" are not scheduled "inputs" until two-thirds of the
way through the process and then only to help evaluate previously deter-
mined alternatives (Neuman in Valencia, 1981).
The lack of social science participation in the design phases of
resource assessment and coastal zone management endeavors means that the

definition of problem areas for study falls entirely within the hands of

the natural scientists who tend to assume that the physical and bio-
logical aspects are empirically primary. They tend to use natural eco-
systems (or sub-units thereof) to define the boundaries of the study,
whether it is a tropical river basin, mangrove lagoon, endemic species
habitat, a beach, or a coastal zone. Only after the natural scientists
have defined the "proper" unit of study are the social scientists invited
in to provide counsel on how human systems affect the operation of the

natural system.
Unfortunately, this approach generally does not work because as
Rambo (1981) has noted, "... social scientists work in terms of their
own special unit of analysis. This unit is not people as such but an
altogether different conceptual unit which is seldom fully isomorphic
with the ecosystems defined by the natural scientists." Social scien-

724

tists each focus on a slightly different aspect of human use systems
(for example, the anthropologist addresses cultural systems, the socio-
logist looks at systems of social organization, the economist explores
the market system, the administrative analyst and the planner or manager
deal with information systems). These components make up the totality
of the social system which interacts with the equally complex natural

system.
Although the social scientists, seeking to understand the struc-
ture and dynamics of social systems, have made significant progress in
recent decades, the availability of socio-economic management strate-
gies for application in island environmental and coastal resource man-
agement efforts remains outside the purview of most natural scientists
and resource managers with science-oriented backgrounds. As a result,
natural scientists often fail to appreciate the value of human social
system paradigms for addressing man/environment interactions. Natural
scientists continue to be presumptive about the primacy of the physical
and biological sciences, while social scientists continue to be diffident
about coming forward with viable alternative approaches to an analysis of
human interaction with the environment. Both groups would benefit from
more frequent, more direct (even forced) kinds of interaction.
However, while social scientists may contribute new ways of "per-
ceiving" the problem and may be especially useful in projecting social
impacts and looking at patterns, institutions, options and constraints
at various hierarchical levels, a local "participation" strategy (es-
pecially at the village level) is essential to document how the exist-
ing human use system functions and to establish and evaluate objectives
(potential futures). Adding the social scientist to the coastal resource
management planning process is, to a degree, only a means to an end,
improving and accelerating the data gathering and analysis activity.
To a degree, using a participatory strategy compensates for the absence
of more rigorous or more elaborate social science input and also func-
tions as a "ground truth" or corroborating mechanism when more formal

kinds of social science inputs are available.
The implications of all of this for islands are quite clear and

725

relevant to those whose work Involves island conservation and develop-
ment, especially coastal and marine resource management. There is no
one simple paradigm for Islands or island microcosms yet--only a series
of models (which have served as surrogate paradigms), such as the eco-
system model, the man7-biosphere interaction transactional model, and
variations on these (like the microcosm model), all moving in the same
general direction, namely, an integration of natural and social science
knowledge about island processes (derived from different disciplines and
interdisciplinary models) within a new framework or paradigm.
In any event, the island ecosystem model or "surrogate paradigm"
has served its purpose (and is still relevant to some disciplines). Over
past decades it has been pushed and massaged and modified by alternative
ways of looking at the insular condition. The feedback loop has not yet

been closed and will not be until insular marine environments and marine

resources, not just ecosystems, are addressed more systematically as a
key element for a more holistic framework for analysis, management, and
development of island systems. Some preliminary experimental models and
methodologies have proven very promising--opening up new ways to address
insular vulnerability (Hamnett et al., 1981), marginality (Brookfield,
1980, and Geoghegan, 1983), dependency (McElroy, 1978b) coastal re-
source opportunity (Gold et al., 1982), and planning, education and
management considerations (Putney, 1982).
No one is, of course, simply waiting for a new paradigm to emerge
before proceeding with action strategies. To a degree, only the island
11 scientist" or specialist is concerned with the paradigm question of
"how do island systems work?" Most island resource development prac-
titioners are far more concerned with (1) technology (management, con-
cepts, and strategies as a kind of existing paradigm "software") and
(2) institutions (delivery systems for management in a particular Insu-
lar setting), and are not generally concerned with the theory of why

this or that does or does not work in the Island context.

Even this case study, despite occasional lapses into more paradigm
related theoretical discussions, has sought to focus principally on the
technologies of island resource management and on workable island speci-

726

fic institutional arrangements. However@ the evolution of a new para-
digm, island resource management technologies, and institutional delivery
systems are not disconnected entities. All "experimental" or experien-
tially derived perspectives are relevant to the task of improving island
system management and the way "managers" perceive and establish a consen-
sus about what they are doing and where they are going.
At the present time, the best hope for combining various experimeTI7
tal approaches to coastal resources in island areas and in accelerating
the formulation of a new paradigm for (and general theory of) islands
lies in focusing on a conceptual integration of islands and their
habitat--"the sea and all that is therein." Insular coastal zones (or

marine environments), therefore, offer the prospect of being not just a
vehicle for economic revitalization (see Section 6), but also, as the
process of management and development proceeds, could provide the missing
elements needed for shaping a new conceptual paradigm for island systems.
Therefore, island planners and leaders and the designers of bilat-
eral and multilateral technical assistance strategies for island "coastal
zones" will over the next decade or so--whether willingly, consciously,
inadvertantly, or perhaps reluctantly--be participants in this process.
The island world (within the world island) is close to a paradigm shift.

In the meanwhile, useful tentative models, conceptual tools and tech-
nical components are available. What is done with them to ensure the
survival of island systems is the question.

727

8. LESSONS LEARNED

8.1 Islands As Unique
Oceanic island states are different in kind, not just in matters of
scale, from continental systems and states, a circumstance which suggests
the need for caution in extrapolating from continental marine resource
development planning strategies and coastal zone management models.
All oceanic islands by definition are surrounded by the sea and have
circumferential (not linear) coastal and exclusive economic zones which

are always larger than total associated land areas. Island cluster
states have no other option except to use costly sea and air transport
modes to link-up separate parts of the country which often are dispersed
over expansive ocean areas. Most island states (unlike continental
countries) have no land frontiers or central terrestrial core distant
from the sea, and, therefore, coastal resource planning and management is
largely synonymous with national resource planning and management.

There is an implied risk, however, in this approach because to a degree
it is more holistic and comprehensive than traditional land-oriented
physical and economic planning as currently practiced in island states.
All islands are microstates, but not all microstates are islands.
Despite its widespread use by the United Nations and some academicians,
the term "microstate" is not therefore very appropriate to island systems
as it overemphasizes the common constraint of smallness at the expense of
the more fundamental constraints of true insularity (isolation, circum-
ferential sea boundaries2 dependence on coastal and marine resources,
storm risks, limited species diversity, ecological fragility and high
levels of biotic endemism).

8.2 Limitations to the Island Microcosm Concept
Islands are not intrinsically microcosms of continents, but smaller
oceanic islands (or groups) tend to be microcosms of other larger islands
(or groups) or of islands considered generically. Larger oceanic archi-
pelagic or cluster islands may be "microcosms" of marginal, peripheral
coastal areas or systems on the edges of continents, to the extent that
they help define or demonstrate generic center-periphery or core-margin

728

relationships. The island microcosm concept appears, therefore, to have
more academic metaphorical value than applied methodological utility. To
the degree that it implies (or the reader infers) that island microcosms
are dwarf-like miniatures of continents, it is misleading, falling some-
where between the perception of islands as "satellites" and islands as

laboratories.

8.3 Limitations to the Insular Coastal Zone Concept
Island coastal zones are analogous to a topological Moebius strip with no
real inside and outside--the sea and the island are truly one identity
and in this study are called the "island system." Most islanders in-
nately sense this fusion which goes beyond linear interrelationships or
interdependencies of man-land-sea. Perhaps because it is part of the
insular mystique, the concept is easily given up by islanders confronting
allegedly more acceptable, more rational, but narrower planning, manage-
ment, and development models when they travel "off-island" for technical
and professional training at continental institutions.
In any event, most ongoing island resource planning activity is es-
sentially land-oriented (i.e., inside looking out) which neglects coastal
and marine factors, the reasons for which have been previously addressed.
But to effect the needed conceptual and structural shift to a more holis-
tic "island system," or island-man-sea framework for resource assess-
ment, development and management planning, one has to first address the
implicit land vs. sea asymmetry of the data base, available technical and
professional skills, environmental and development control legislation,
and institutional capabilities. Secondly, there is a need to develop a
more integrated island-man-sea resource management framework by combining
the perspective (and respective expertise) of the islander (institution-
alized or interpreted by the island core or political center), the out-
islander (the margin or periphery), the sister islander (neighboring/
regional considerations), and the non-islander (continental/interna-
tional). Both approaches can be pursued simultaneously. There are two

options.
On the one hand, the "coastal zone management concept" (essentially

729

a continental notion) could, with the "insular" adaptations previously
suggested, serve as the land-sea linking device and the vehicle for
upgrading insular utilization of coastal and marine resources, reducing
vulnerability and external dependency, and achieving a greater degree
of self-reliance as an insular system.
On the other hand, the standard "coastal zone concept" when applied
to islands presents three basic difficulties: (1) when looking inward,
because of the "smallness" of the land area, it becomes not a "zone" but

an entire matrix of all island watersheds (technically subsuming all
planning); (2) when looking outward, because of the vast expanse of the
EEZ in comparison to the island itself, the coastal zone concept and
label become inappropriate; and (3) when single country island clusters
or multiple island systems with closely coupled core and satellite "is-
lands" (as in the case of Fiji, Tonga, Grenada, and St. Vincent) try to
use the "coastal zone" format, how do they handle the spatial and juris-
dictional problem of what is and what is not "coastal zone." In these
cases, the "coastal zone" is not a very useful term, as least for manage-

ment purposes.
It is suggested, therefore, that for smaller oceanic island systems,
the "coastal zone concept" (as a vehicle for change and management) be
incorporated within an integrated "marine resource management" concept or
its equivalent. In effect, "coastal zones" mean more to continents than
to islands; marine resources (which subsume insular coastal zones) mean

more to islands than to continents.

8.4 Technical Limits and Options
The reader might assume from this study that extremely isolated, tradi-
tionally self-sufficient, more marginal, and less developed islands and
peripheral systems represent the ideal, to be encouraged because of
their inherently greater stability and sustainability. Their impact on
unique, exotic or endangered island habitats and species is seemingly
less destructive than larger scale, more intrusive, externally generated
activity. This is not the intended lesson.
These "out" island areas (whether undeveloped smaller satellite

730

islands--however ecologically unique--or less developed peripheral
outlying coastal areas) are far more important to the core or center
than has been previously recognized (not in a preservation mode but

as efficient production units that happen to create fewer negative en-
vironmental impacts). One task is to incorporate these peripheral
areas and their proven "potential" within the larger island national
development planning process without detracting from their character as
self-sufficient island system sub-units. This requirement and the lar-
ger task of devising appropriate coastal resource management strategies
for island systems can best be accomplished by paying attention to the
following operational considerations.
Even a simple development project, if its ecological,
sociological, and economic consequences have not been

carefully thought through, may have strong adverse im7

pacts on the resource in question, on community rela-
tions and on the success of other, apparently unre-
lated development projects.
A cultural orientation is necessary not only in the choice
of a coastal resource development technology but in the
case of all research, planning and management activities

maintaining active linkages with established practices in

the communities involved.

Technical assistance planning efforts based on continental
models by off-island entities dealing with insular coastal
resources will be more effective if they are focused on
local development opportunities, are integrated with
existing human use systems, are less regulatory and con-

straining than presently available continental models,
and place greater emphasis on consensus-building strategies

which combine users and managers.
In small islands rapid, incremental growth or large-scale
projects often overwhelm local institutional resource
management capabilities. Compensatory training, educa-
tion and institution building strategies have tended to

731

lag behind, suggesting the need for more emphasis on
strengthening local institutions and their capacities to
anticipate and assess the potential environmental impacts
of development activities. This can best be accomplished
through participatory, interdisciplinary planning and
management initiatives (both governmental and nongovern-
mental) at the local level, rather than through more formal,
off-island approaches.

732

9. GUIDEUNES
(1) Continental models and practices for pre-project environmental
impact assessment, while useful, need substantial re-design to serve a
practical purpose when applied to island systems.
In project planning, design and development for islands, the absence
of an antecedent or parallel comprehensive resource assessment can, as in
the Rodney Bay, St. Lucia, example (Section 4.1), lead to unanticipated,
adverse environmental and social effects. However, the presence of en-
vironmental profiles and environmental impact assessment documentation
is no guarantee of success and can induce a false sense of security (as
in the Mangrove Lagoon, Virgin Islands, example in Section 4.2) unless the
framework for the impact assessment is broadened to reflect insular
human use conditions (such as descriptions of man-land-sea, non-cash
subsistence economic factors), constraints (such as national vulnera-
bility/dependency indices), and the bias or skew factor resulting from
a marginal marine data base and historically land-oriented planning

practices.
For island areas, environmental impact assessment procedures should
be further expanded to incorporate the design of a follow-up project mon-
itoring and evaluation strategy (with clear delineation of assigned re-
sponsibilities, schedules, reporting and funding options). Some atten-
tion should also be paid to scheduling a post-audit activity. In other
words, the impact assessment approach, if used, should be a less static
vignette and more concerned with process, feedback and verification of
both external and domestic assumptions. A three-stage effort is required
--before, during and after--the latter two preferably by an independent

entity.
Additionally, the natural ecosystem concept, as employed by many

scientists carrying out environmental impact and resource assessment ef-
forts, results in an incomplete definition of project boundaries. The
concept must be expanded to include human use systems and related link-
ages, with appropriate "boundaries" for analyzing project impacts on
human ecology.

733

(2) Guidelines for coastal resources management should be enforce-

able and equitably applied. Unenforceable environmental management
legislation for coastal and marine resources and/or regulations and
permitting procedures which the government itself is not willing to honor
are worse than no rules at all because they compromise government credi-
bility among resource users.

Encouraging the hasty drafting of coastal zone or marine resource
management legislation should be avoided. Legislation should be drafted
when based on solid (not necessarily precise) scientific and socio-
economic information--including information about how traditional uses,
users, and resource management practices will be affected, or what
industries need incentives or restrictions to enhance development and

increase local self-reliance.

Enabling legislation for coastal zone management programs that re-
quire massive off-island hiring of expatriate professionals does not meet
these standards and should be avoided as premature.
(3) Training and education strategies should be integral components
of resource assessment, impact assessment, or marine/coastal resource
management planning efforts.
Training and education strategies in marine and coastal resource
assessment and management for and in island areas should focus primarily
on mid-level technician skills-building and on upgrading the marine lit-
eracy of local economic and physical planners and marine resource users,
primarily using sequential, participatory, problem focussed workshops and
in situ informal short courses designed to cut across disciplinary or
ministerial (sectoral) boundaries.
The relative smallness of the population base in most small islands
makes it very difficult to identify and provide manpower requirements in
addressing technical areas like marine resource development. Unfortun-
ately, as the Minister of Education for Tonga (former Chancellor of the
University of the South Pacific in Fiji) has noted, "... training pro-
vided overseas is expensive and disrupting" (Kavaliku, 1980).
Prospective skills-training workshops or programs might focus sep-
arately or collectively on establishing management objectives and guide-

734

lines on coastal zone or marine resource assessment, on community parti-
cipation, non-formal data collection, resource mapping (by type and by
1. objective"), impact assessment methodologies, ecodevelopment principles,
and alternative management devices such as marine parks or artificial
reefs for fisheries enhancement. As appropriate to the island or island
group a workshop format could address preparation of resource planning
guidelines for specific issues such as docks and piers, harbors and boat
channels, causeways and jetties, baseline data gathering, small boat
harbor development, beach and shoreline erosion control, beach nourish-
ment/enhancement, lagoonal systems, waves, swells, tides and currents,
and risk analysis. Such topics should be approached as simply and in as
practical a fashion as possible. In each case the workshop should em-
phasize what could be done using locally available skills and materials,
equipment and instruments. As a second concern, workshops should address
what other management goals could be addressed given a modest additional
increment of expanded skills training, a few basic research tools, in-
struments and measuring devices, along with standard data recording
forms and "how-to-do-it" handbooks. The reinforcing incentive of being
part of both a national and regional network and baseline data/inform-
ation management system could enhance the strategy further.
(4) Large-scale development projects in smaller islands should be
spread over the longest possible time frame and should be designed to be_
carried forward in stages, to reduce temporally concentrated impacts and_
encourage mid-project re-design ifnecessary.
Major coastal/marine resource development projects on smaller is-
lands affecting complex inter-related ecosystems, whenever possible,
should be designed for phased implementation, thus allowing time "breaks"
between phases to assess impacts and to make appropriate compensatory
adjustments. This is especially crucial when the natural resource
base provides input to a local and traditional subsistence economy.
The irreversible "transformational" effects of major development
schemes on traditional human use systems and the equally irreversible
environmental effects of major projects suggest the need for both
careful monitoring and retention of the option for mid-project re-design

735

if required.
(5) At a minimum, continentally derived coastal zone management
models require major reformulation if they are to be employed in small
island circumstances, and in some cases continentally derived models
will be inappropriate.
Scaling down existing continental approaches to coastal and marine
resource management is not enough. The focus, boundaries, structure,
planning, staffing, and funding elements of a coastal zone management
approach all require re-thinking and re-design within an island context
to incorporate the following:
an emphasis on local development opportunities integrated with
existing human use systems
fewer top-down regulatory constraints than in continental

models

targeted emphasis on marine literacy and locally required man-
agement information systems (formal and informal)
reformulation of the concept of "public participation" to place
more emphasis on concensus and less on formalized ex post facto

responses
provisions to enhance insular self-sufficiency (which means
appropriate, locally sustainable technological transfer and
ecodevelopment approaches)
an emphasis on "production" diversity, decentralization (the
peripheral system), and the expansion of internalized markets,
even at the expense of (a) exports, (b) alleged economies of
scale, and (c) foregone outside investment or foreign aid funds
for high-tech schemes
greater incorporation of existing institutions
emphasis on inter-island regional linkages and opportunities
for shared training, management and enforcement.
(6) The existing informal network of island coastal and marine re-
source planning and developmentpractitioners (institutional, govern-
mental, individual), who have developed the new approaches and models
reviewed herein, collectively constitute a unique "insular resource"

736

which should be tapped for island coastal and marine resources manage-

ment.

Numerous innovative and experimental approaches to island coastal
resource management have already been developed and are accessible.
Their diversity reflects both the complexity of the problem and the uni-
verse of island types. Current initiatives to structure more for-
malized coastal zone management programs need to find ways to utilize
these proven island specific strategies. The primary task at hand,
therefore, is not fundamentally a basic research problem so much as it
is a technical application problem. It is, therefore, appropriate to
devise mechanisms to apply what has been learned. This is seldom done by
development agencies working within an island context, however, being
left primarily as a task for an academician's post-audit, years after the

fact.

737

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