Published: 12:21 AM, 10 April 2026
St. Martin’s Island: A Silent Crisis Behind the Beauty
Mohammed Enamul Hoque Mithu
St. Martin’s Island is not merely a tourist destination. It is a living community a homeland where thousands of people reside, work, and struggle for survival. Yet, recent tourism control policies have largely ignored this fundamental reality. Measures imposed in the name of environmental conservation have failed to protect the environment in practice instead, they have pushed the island’s residents into a deep social and economic crisis.
Since 2024, the government has declared St. Martin’s an Ecologically Critical Area, limiting the number of tourists to 2,000 per day and allowing overnight stays only during two months December and January. The intention, undoubtedly, is noble to protect coral reefs, biodiversity, and fragile ecosystems. But the crucial question remains are these policies realistic, humane, and sustainable?
Conservation Reduced to Restrictions, If conservation is limited only to imposing restrictions, it cannot succeed. Tourism has been curtailed, but environmental management has not improved. Unregulated construction of cottages continues across the island. The destruction of keora trees has not stopped. There is no effective waste management system. Plastic and polythene litter beaches and roadsides. Dustbins are insufficient, regular cleaning is absent, and there is no mandatory environmental awareness program for tourists.
This raises an inevitable question, if pollution is not being reduced despite fewer tourists, then who is truly bearing the burden of these controls? The answer is clear the local people of St. Martin’s.
Administrative Failure and Tourist Suffering, Mismanagement has also caused immense hardship for visitors. Ferry operations remain entirely dependent on tides. Passengers are often stranded at jetties for hours without basic facilities no waiting sheds, no public toilets, no separate arrangements for women or children. Being forced to wait for hours on cold winter nights reflects a profound failure of state responsibility.
Punished as Tourists, Even When They are not One of the most irrational decisions has been the requirement of travel passes even for non-tourists. Journalists, researchers, tour operators, investors, and even residents of Cox’s Bazar are all being treated as tourists. Those visiting relatives on the island or traveling for work or research are subjected to the same restrictions.
This policy directly contradicts constitutionally guaranteed citizens’ rights. The resulting frustration among local communities is only natural. However, the rigid stance of the administration has further intensified resentment.
Tourist numbers have dropped sharply, and local livelihoods are nearing collapse. Many family homes and small local guesthouses have not hosted a single tourist this season. In contrast, large and well-known resorts mostly owned by outside investors have survived through discounts and advance bookings.
As a result, whatever limited tourism exists does not benefit local residents. For generations, islanders depended on two months of income to sustain themselves year-round. Today, many families are selling land and jewelry just to survive. This is not an isolated incident, it is an ongoing humanitarian crisis.
The economic collapse has directly affected education and healthcare. There is no college on the island, insufficient schools, and a severe shortage of teachers. There are no public examination centers, students must travel to Teknaf to sit for exams. This year, many families could not even afford that expense.
Healthcare conditions are even more alarming. The 20-bed hospital is practically non-functional. The shortage of doctors has persisted for years. Previously, people could at least travel to Teknaf or Cox’s Bazar for treatment. Now, even that option is out of reach for many.
True conservation is sustainable only when local people are partners, not victims. Policymakers must ask themselves: does the government genuinely want to protect St. Martin’s, or is it gradually turning it into a people-less, decorative island?
If conservation is truly the goal, where are the alternative employment opportunities? Where are the skill development programs? Where is the guarantee of education and healthcare?
To save St. Martin’s, we must save not only the coral reefs but also its people. Otherwise, history will one day ask a painful question, in the name of conservation, whose lives did we sacrifice?
Mohammed Enamul Hoque
Mithu is a freelancer
and a columnist.
