Coastlines in Transition: Science, Tourism and the Shared Responsibility of Adaptation (Beauty before Risk?)

Some truths are easy to admire and difficult to confront. Mauritius and Rodrigues have long prospered because of their coastlines. Our beaches are not simply places of leisure. They are the foundation of our tourism model, our national brand, our economic identity, and even the emotional memory of those who call these islands home. Yet the very geography that sustains us has become our most fragile frontier. The same line that symbolises beauty is now revealing vulnerability.

The recent coastal risk study undertaken by the Bureau de Recherches Géologiques et Minières (BRGM) and financed by the Agence Française de Développement (ADF) confirms scientifically what Mauritians have observed for years. Shorelines are receding, and exposure to marine submersion is increasing. What makes this study particularly significant is that it translates climate change into spatial reality. It maps erosion and flooding for today, 2050, and 2100. These projections are not academic exercises. They describe future coastlines within the lifespan of infrastructure already built.

This reality was clearly articulated by Dr Nathalie Bernardie Tahir, Professor of Geography at the Université de Limoges, during the presentation of the study’s findings at ECO Sud. Presenting measured data rather than speculation, she demonstrated that both Mauritius and Rodrigues are entering a phase characterised by accelerated shoreline retreat and increasing exposure to marine flooding. Her analysis is based on the national study led by BRGM and funded by AFD, following an agreement formalised with the Mauritian State.

What struck me most in her analysis is that this change is not abstract. It is unfolding within hotel lifecycles, mortgage horizons, insurance pricing models, infrastructure financing plans, and the daily realities of people working and living in coastal areas. When Dr Bernardie Tahir speaks of shoreline retreat measured in tens of metres, and in some cases over a hundred metres, she is not forecasting geography. She is forecasting economic, social and business disruption.

A metre of shoreline loss is not a statistic. When coastlines retreat, hotels face increased capital costs for reinforcement, redesign or relocation. When storm impacts intensify, insurance premiums rise or quietly disappear. When beaches deteriorate, guest satisfaction declines, brand value erodes and reputational risk increases. Communities around hotels face pressure to displace and rising property exposure. Governments absorb the cost through drainage reconstruction, freshwater aquifer contamination and infrastructure damage. All of this affects tax revenue, employment continuity and even sovereign risk perception. These are not environmental narratives. They are documented functional relationships by UNEP, Oxford University, and the IPCC.

The science is quite simple. Oceans rise because warmer water expands, and melting ice from Greenland and Antarctica adds volume. The global average rise is about 3.5 mm per year, but the south-western Indian Ocean is closer to 6 mm per year. Rodrigues faces an even more severe issue because land subsidence increases the rise. Under high-emissions scenarios, relative sea-level could surpass 40 cm by 2050 and 80 cm by 2100. Some still hope this will not happen, but satellite observations and IPCC assessments increasingly suggest otherwise.

There is an additional complication. Cyclones are expected to intensify. BRGM modelling indicates potential increases of 5-10% in wind speeds during extreme events, accompanied by significant drops in atmospheric pressure. These combined factors lead to stronger storm surges, deeper flooding, and more powerful wave energy entering lagoon systems. The implications for hotels, roads, settlements, aquifers, and public safety are substantial. Storm damage will no longer be occasional; it will become structural. This is why integrated coastal zone management is no longer optional. Tourism cannot continue behaving as a consumer of coastlines. It must become a partner in resilience building.

There is, however, cautious optimism within the findings. Nature remains our strongest form of protection. Most of Mauritius and all of Rodrigues are suitable for nature-based solutions such as mangrove restoration, reef rehabilitation, dune recovery and sediment flow management. These are not environmental decorations. They are working defences. Coral reefs dissipate the majority of wave energy before it reaches shore. Mangroves slow storm surges. Dunes absorb impact like shock absorbers. Removing them simply dismantles our most reliable insurance system.

Mauritius holds a rare advantage. We possess detailed scientific maps showing where risk is escalating and where nature-based solutions are viable. Few island states have access to this level of insight. The remaining question is whether we choose to act on it before the cost of inaction becomes unavoidable.

The coast will change. As I often remind my students and reflect in my writing, leadership is anticipatory. Strategy does not wait for crisis. Mauritius and Rodrigues stand at a point where the science is clear, the economics are unavoidable, and the real choice is no longer whether climate change affects tourism, but how tourism chooses to adapt.

This also forces a quieter conversation about education. If tourism education remains focused on beautiful hotels, golf experiences and appetisers served with ocean views, while avoiding climate risk, resilience and uncertainty, we may be training leaders for a version of the industry that exists mostly in brochures.

Through our upcoming Masters in Tourism programme with MCCI and IAE Angers, this will become a central question for future leaders. Are we designing tourism as a standalone sector or as a pillar of the Blue Economy? Because the answers that emerge here will determine how Mauritius positions itself in a world where ocean resilience defines national competitiveness.

Which inevitably brings us to Governance.

The Ministry of Environment and the Ministry of Fisheries share the same shoreline, which is convenient because it allows each to manage a different version of it. One oversees regulation, typically once erosion is visible from the road. The other manages ecosystems that quietly degrade long before they attract attention. The lagoon, regrettably, has not been informed that responsibilities are divided.

In theory, coordination is simple. Reef recovery, mangrove restoration, surge protection and lagoon health are obviously interconnected. In practice, they are treated as separate files, handled by individual teams, discussed in separate rooms, and usually dealt with after separate crises. The idea of a joint coastal resilience unit tends to surface during speeches. It is easy to imagine. Scientists, planners, hoteliers, fishers and communities designing protection before damage occurs. What usually happens is more familiar. A storm hits. Reports are commissioned. Temporary measures appear. Accountability dissolves. The coast continues its steady retreat while everyone agrees that something should have been done earlier.

We have become extremely good at agreeing in hindsight.

The irony is difficult to ignore. The science exists. The satellite data exists. The funding has been signed. What remains absent is not information but resolve. Until that changes, the coast will continue to be managed in the same way it is eroding incrementally, quietly, and at someone else’s expense.