When the sea heaves during the monsoon and the last ferry leaves Teknaf, the people of St Martin’s Island begin counting their days differently. For the families who live here — fishermen, small shopkeepers, madrasa teachers, rickshaw-van pullers, and women running households on borrowed money — survival is measured not just in earnings, but in uncertainty. With 70 percent of residents living below the poverty line, many say the struggle has reached a point where every season feels like a test of endurance.
The new draft master plan published by the Ministry of Environment, Forest and Climate Change on November 24 lays out a hard, unembellished picture of this remote community. The plan identifies 4,445 families living on the island, with a total population of 9,885. Each family has an average of 6.84 members, far higher than the national average, and the population is overwhelmingly young — 42 percent under 18, and 44 percent between 19 and 45. It is a demographic that could bring prosperity if opportunities existed. But parents here already know that the island’s physical beauty masks a harsh economic reality.
Education, health and housing fall behind on an isolated island
The challenges begin early, with education. St Martim’s has only one secondary school/college, one higher-secondary school, one government and two private primary schools, and 17 madrasas — yet even these provide limited prospects. The literacy rate is 36 percent for men and 22 percent for women, meaning 64 percent of men and 78 percent of women are illiterate. When the sea becomes rough, ferries stop, cutting students off from the mainland. Those who wish to sit for SSC or HSC examinations must take risky boat journeys. Many families, especially those with daughters, simply give up.
The master plan notes that “this situation has a negative impact on educational attainment and creates disproportionate effects on female students,” leaving girls vulnerable to early dropout. On the island, internal communication depends mainly on walking, rickshaw-vans and rented bicycles, further compounding barriers to education.
Health care paints a similar picture of scarcity. Although there is a hospital on the island, it lacks manpower, equipment and adequate services. Residents rely on six pharmacies for basic treatment, and for complicated health issues — especially pregnancy-related emergencies — must travel to the mainland, often in dangerous conditions. The master plan warns that this “creates obstacles in providing broad healthcare” and that pregnant women and severely injured patients “face severe difficulties” because of the lack of access.
Housing conditions offer little comfort. Kacha houses make up 68 percent of all dwellings, jhupri 17.4 percent, semi-pacca 13.7 percent and pacca just 0.9 percent. Nearly one-third of families have no toilets, and the island does not have a central sewage system. Among business establishments, only 30 percent use flush toilets. Electricity now comes mainly from solar grids instead of diesel generators, providing 24-hour power but at a “very high” cost, making it unaffordable for many.
Tourism booms but locals remain locked out of Its benefits
For most families, livelihood remains the most pressing concern. The island’s economy is tied almost entirely to fishing — 61 percent of total income — and tourism — 31 percent. But fishing is seasonal and increasingly unpredictable. Tourism, meanwhile, has expanded rapidly, yet the benefits have not reached the people who live here. St Martin now has more than 190 hotels and resorts, about half owned by outsiders. The master plan notes that while these establishments have “created some employment opportunities,” social dissatisfaction is rising because locals “are not getting the expected benefits.”
The average family earns only Tk6,448 per month, far below the national average. With external businesses dominating the tourism sector, islanders feel economically sidelined in their own home. “Unemployment and lack of alternative livelihoods,” the master plan states, have pushed poverty higher and deepened resentment.
Conservation push clashes with an economy on the brink
Even as locals demand more control over their economy, the government emphasizes that environmental protection must come first. St Martin is Bangladesh’s only coral island, and decades of unchecked tourism have damaged its reefs. Excessive coral extraction, souvenir trading, sewage discharge, abandoned nets, foreign trawlers and even tourists walking on reefs have led to coral bleaching, white band disease and black band disease.
Speaking with Dhaka Tribune, Dr Fahmida Khanam, additional secretary (Environment Wing), explained why conservation is non-negotiable. “There is a lot of rare biodiversity in St Martin’s. Protecting this biodiversity is the responsibility of the state.”
“Even if it is not a coral island, coral exists. Even to earn (income), biodiversity must be protected; the corals must be saved. If tourists can be controlled, biodiversity can be protected. If we can manage the environment, income will also come, biodiversity will survive,” she said.
When asked whether tourist numbers will increase, she was clear: “It depends on how far we can revise it; increasing tourists will not do. If there is no biodiversity then there will be no income. I am not saying development will not happen. We are also looking at ways for people to maintain their income. Projects have been taken.”
In line with this approach, the draft master plan proposes limiting tourist arrivals to 500–900 per day, far less than the current 2,000 allowed by the government or the 3,000–7,000 who come during peak season. Overnight capacity is another concern: the island has facilities for 4,155 visitors, but 7,193 stay overnight during peak months, nearly double the island’s safe capacity.
To address these pressures, the government has declared a 1,743-sq-km Marine Protected Zone, covering 1.5 percent of the region and safeguarding more than 2,023 fish species, including endangered animals such as the Indo-Pacific humpback dolphin and whale shark.
The master plan outlines 26 projects under nine sectors — from sustainable tourism and waste management to groundwater protection, coral conservation, turtle nesting-site protection and livelihood improvement — at a total estimated cost of Tk 547.9 million. The plan spans 10 years, divided into short-, mid- and long-term phases.
For the people of St Martin’s, these commitments offer a distant promise. But on an island where children risk their safety to take exams, where mothers queue at pharmacies for medicine that may not be available, and where fishermen spend nights worrying about the next storm, the hope is simple: a future where livelihoods do not conflict with the land and sea they depend on.
Until then, the struggle continues — between poverty and possibility, between protecting a fragile ecosystem and ensuring that the island’s own people finally receive the chance to build more secure and dignified lives.
