Everything for Sale:
The Caribbean's New Economy of Tourism, Tax Havens and Citizenship
Everything for Sale
Introduction
The Caribbean has always been for sale. Five centuries ago, European empires carved up its islands to produce sugar, tobacco, and cotton through enslaved labour. Today, the commodities have changed, but the pattern persists. The region now sells its beaches to tourists, its citizenship to wealthy foreigners, and its sovereignty to tax-avoiding corporations. Hotels import their eggs from Miami whilst local farmers struggle. Island nations compete to offer their passports to global elites. Remote companies exist only as brass plates on empty offices in George Town and Road Town. What links these seemingly different activities is a colonial pattern that refuses to die: an economy designed to serve external interests whilst generating minimal local development. It's a story about how old structures of exploitation adapt to new times, wrapping themselves in the language of development, sophistication, and financial innovation.
Modern Echoes: Tourism's Colonial Pattern
Today's Caribbean economies offer case studies in how colonial patterns reproduce themselves in new forms. Consider tourism, the region's dominant industry. While superficially different from sugar plantations, it mirrors many of the same structural problems.
Large foreign-owned hotels dominate prime locations, with profits flowing overseas, but the pattern runs deeper than ownership. Most inputs for the tourist industry - from food to furniture - are imported. Despite the Caribbean's rich agricultural heritage, hotels often source their food from abroad. Visitors eat eggs from the United States, drink wine from France, and sleep on sheets made in China. Even the labour at management level is frequently imported, while local workers remain concentrated in lower-paid service positions.
This import dependency represents a missed opportunity for local development. The region's farmers could supply fresh produce, local craftspeople could provide furniture and fittings, and local food producers could offer authentic culinary experiences. Instead, the tourist economy operates as an enclave, remarkably similar to the old plantation system - a foreign-controlled sector with minimal links to the local economy.
The parallels with the plantation era are striking. Just as sugar plantations sent raw sugar abroad for refining, today's tourism industry sends its profits overseas while importing most of its inputs. The industry creates jobs, certainly, but they're often seasonal, low-paid positions that offer limited opportunities for advancement. Even the marketing and booking systems are controlled by foreign companies, leaving local businesses at the mercy of external digital platforms.
The Commodification of Citizenship
Perhaps nothing better illustrates the continuation of colonial economic patterns than the rise of "Citizenship by Investment" programmes across the Caribbean. Several islands now offer their passports to wealthy foreigners in exchange for money - either through property purchases, business investments, or direct payments to government funds.
This commercialisation of nationality represents a troubling new phase in the region's economic story. Just as the plantation system treated land as a commodity for foreign exploitation, these programmes treat citizenship itself - one of the most fundamental aspects of national sovereignty - as a product for sale.
Defenders argue these schemes bring much-needed foreign exchange and investment. Indeed, in Dominica and St Kitts and Nevis, passport sales have become a significant source of government revenue. However, this income stream carries serious risks. It makes countries vulnerable to external pressure, raises questions about due diligence and financial transparency, and potentially damages diplomatic relations as other nations grow wary of these arrangements.
Moreover, these programmes reflect the same structural weaknesses that have long plagued Caribbean economies: a reliance on external sources of income rather than building domestic productive capacity. Instead of developing industries that create genuine employment and skills transfer, countries compete to sell one of the few assets they control - their sovereignty.
The parallels with earlier economic patterns are unmistakable. Just as the plantation system created wealth without development, passport sales generate revenue without building productive capacity. Just as sugar exports made islands dependent on foreign markets, citizenship sales make them dependent on the continued willingness of wealthy foreigners to buy their passports.
This situation poses profound questions about nationhood and development in our globalised world. When citizenship becomes a commodity, what happens to the social contract between government and people? How can nations build genuine economic sovereignty while selling pieces of their national identity?
Tax Havens: The New Plantation?
The Caribbean tax haven industry presents itself as financial sophistication, but in many ways it perpetuates age-old patterns of economic exploitation. From the British Virgin Islands to the Cayman Islands, these jurisdictions have positioned themselves as conduits for global capital flows. Yet this role raises profound questions about economic development and sovereignty.
The numbers appear impressive at first glance. The British Virgin Islands, with fewer than 30,000 people, is home to hundreds of thousands of registered companies. The Cayman Islands handles billions in global financial flows. However, scratch beneath the surface, and we find a troubling reality.
These financial centres often serve as mere paper destinations. The actual work - the legal, accounting, and banking services - largely happens in London, New York, or Hong Kong. Local economies gain little beyond modest fee income and limited employment in corporate registration offices. Meanwhile, these jurisdictions bear significant reputational costs and face mounting international pressure over their role in global tax avoidance.
The industry's defenders argue it brings high-paying jobs and government revenue. But these benefits are both limited and precarious. Most high-level financial work remains overseas. Local employment largely consists of administrative roles, with expatriates occupying many senior positions. The revenue stream depends entirely on the willingness of major powers to tolerate tax avoidance arrangements - a tolerance that appears to be waning.
Perhaps most concerning is how the tax haven industry reproduces colonial patterns of dependency. Just as the plantation economy served external interests while creating limited local development, these financial centres primarily benefit multinational corporations and wealthy individuals from elsewhere. The Caribbean jurisdictions themselves become mere waypoints for capital flowing between major economies.
This creates a peculiar form of vulnerability. These territories' economic wellbeing becomes hostage to decisions made in foreign capitals about tax regulations and financial transparency. When major economies decide to crack down on tax avoidance - as we've seen with recent global minimum tax initiatives - these jurisdictions have little negotiating power.
The parallel with the plantation economy extends further. Just as plantation agriculture discouraged the development of diverse economic activities, the tax haven industry can crowd out other forms of development. Why invest in building productive industries when quick money can be made from registration fees? Why develop local skills when the real work happens elsewhere?
Moreover, the industry creates a troubling disconnect between government and citizenry. When government revenue depends more on foreign companies than local taxpayers, the social contract between state and citizen weakens. Politicians become more attuned to the needs of offshore interests than domestic concerns. This situation represents a modern variant of the structural dependency that Caribbean economists have long identified. While the industry appears more sophisticated than traditional extractive activities, it follows the same pattern: external interests using Caribbean territories for their own purposes while creating minimal local development.
Conclusion
The colonial economy of the Caribbean was never simple exploitation - it was a sophisticated system that produced immense wealth whilst ensuring dependence. Today's arrangement follows the same blueprint, albeit dressed in modern garb. Luxury resorts mirror the plantation model, importing their supplies and exporting their profits. Tax havens process billions yet create barely a ripple in local economies. The sale of citizenship transforms the very notion of belonging into a commodity. Each of these sectors promises development but delivers dependency.