You are selling back access to people
Across the Caribbean, a quiet dispossession is unfolding — one measured not in gunfire but in excavators, legal exemptions, and bypass roads. In Barbuda, Jamaica, and Grenada, residents who have gathered on ancestral shores for generations now find those same beaches enclosed behind luxury resort fences, their access severed by colonial-era property laws that survived independence and now serve foreign capital. The question these islands are being forced to answer is an old one dressed in new money: who does a place belong to — those who have lived within it across generations, or those who can afford to purchase it?
- Excavators arrived before Miranda Beazer could rebuild her bar, demolishing what remained of her livelihood and leaving her fighting in court for access to land she believes is legally hers.
- A luxury resort backed by Robert De Niro and an Australian billionaire now occupies a stretch of Barbuda's coast behind a newly built bypass road, and residents say they can no longer see — let alone reach — the beach that once belonged to everyone.
- When activists challenged the legislation that made the resort possible, the highest court of appeal ruled that rights granted to Barbudans simply for being Barbudans do not constitute a property interest — a decision that sent a chill through land defenders across the region.
- In Jamaica, less than one percent of the coastline remains freely accessible to residents, and a government proposal meant to expand beach access is being condemned by activists as a scheme to charge Jamaicans for entry to their own shores.
- Legal battles are multiplying across the islands, but courts have consistently sided with governments and developers, leaving communities to wonder whether the transformation of their coastlines is already irreversible.
Miranda Beazer ran a beachfront bar on Barbuda for over two decades — a gathering place where neighbors played dominoes after Sunday mass. When Hurricane Irma destroyed it in 2017, she was evacuated to Antigua and wept for two weeks. When she was ready to return and rebuild, foreign developers came with large offers. She refused them all. Then excavators arrived and demolished what remained.
Beazer is now in court fighting for access to land she holds a lease on — a case that has illuminated how colonial-era property laws, still enforced across the Caribbean, leave residents exposed to dispossession by wealthy outsiders. Barbuda's land system is unusual: all land is communally owned, and citizens have the right to be consulted on major development projects, a principle enshrined in the 2007 Barbuda Land Act. But in 2015, the government passed the Paradise Found Act, exempting a 400-acre luxury resort — backed by Robert De Niro and Australian billionaire James Packer — from those very protections. A bypass road now isolates the complex, and residents say they can no longer reach the beach where the resort was built.
Activists challenged the exemption all the way to the Privy Council in London — Antigua and Barbuda's highest court of appeal, retained after independence from Britain. In 2022, the court ruled against them, finding that rights granted to Barbudans simply for being Barbudans do not constitute a property interest. The resort maintains that public beach access remains unchanged. Residents say otherwise.
The pattern repeats across the region. In Jamaica, Devon Taylor of the Jamaica Beach Birthright Environmental Movement says less than one percent of the coastline is freely accessible to residents. A government proposal framed as expanding beach access would, in his reading, simply allow hotels to sell passes to locals — charging Jamaicans to enter their own shores. He calls it colonial logic repackaged. His organization is fighting five separate lawsuits against the government and private developers.
For Caribbean governments, tourism offers a path to economic growth. But land defenders argue that this model displaces the very communities whose culture draws visitors in the first place — and that without legal reform, the paradise being sold to the world will no longer belong to the people who built it.
Miranda Beazer owned a bar called Pink Sands Beach on the small Caribbean island of Barbuda for more than two decades. It was the kind of place where neighbors gathered to play dominoes after Sunday mass, where the community had a center. When Hurricane Irma struck in 2017, the storm destroyed the bar and her home along with nearly everything else on an island of about 2,000 people. Beazer was evacuated to the neighboring island of Antigua. She wept for two weeks.
When she was ready to rebuild, foreign developers began approaching her with large sums of money for the land. She refused every offer. "It is not money I am looking for," she said. "What I want is to continue with my land." But before she could act, excavators arrived. Foreign corporations demolished what remained of her bar. Now Beazer is fighting in court for the right to access what she says is her property—a battle that has exposed how colonial-era land laws, inherited and still enforced across the Caribbean, leave residents vulnerable to dispossession by wealthy outsiders.
Barbuda's land system is unusual. Unlike most places, the land belongs collectively to the community rather than to individuals. Residents can obtain leases to occupy specific areas, but they do not own them outright. All land is communal property, and citizens have the right to be consulted on major development projects. This system emerged after slavery ended in Barbuda in 1834 and was formally recognized by the government of Antigua and Barbuda in 2007 through the Barbuda Land Act. Beazer claims she holds a lease to 30 acres of beachfront but currently has access to only eight. According to the Global Legal Action Network, a group of lawyers supporting her case, foreign developers—Murbee Resorts and Peace Love and Happiness—are illegally occupying the rest. Both companies deny the allegations, claiming they hold valid leases and have followed all legal procedures.
Beazer's remaining strip of beach is the last accessible stretch of Barbuda's southern coast for local residents. But it faces pressure from a different direction: a luxury resort development called The Beach Club Barbuda, a 400-acre project backed by Oscar-winning actor Robert De Niro and Australian billionaire James Packer through their company Paradise Found. The resort, expected to open this year, will include the Nobu Beach Inn with 17 luxury homes and 25 beachfront residences, with land prices starting at $7 million. A newly constructed bypass road now isolates the complex from the rest of the island, and residents report they can no longer visit or even see the beach where the resort was built. The resort's official website describes it as "a rare island community on one of the last untouched coasts of the Caribbean."
What made this development possible was a legal maneuver. To allow construction of The Beach Club, the government passed new legislation in 2015 called the Paradise Found Act, which exempted the resort from the 2007 Barbuda Land Act protections. Activists challenged this in court, taking their case all the way to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council in London, Antigua and Barbuda's highest court of appeal—a structure the nation retained after gaining independence from Britain in 1981. In 2022, the court ruled in favor of the government, deciding that rights granted to Barbudans simply because they are Barbudans do not constitute a property interest. Paradise Found stated that the Beach Club was developed in accordance with local law and that public access to Princess Diana Beach, now part of the resort, remains unchanged—a claim residents dispute.
Barbuda is not alone. Sixteen hundred kilometers to the west, Jamaica faces a parallel struggle. Devon Taylor, president of the Jamaica Beach Birthright Environmental Movement, argues that Jamaica's current land laws discriminate against Jamaicans by making clear they have no rights to the coastal strip or adjacent areas. The Jamaican government recently proposed new legislation to expand resident access to beaches, but Taylor contends it does the opposite: rather than strengthening property rights, it encourages hotels to sell beach passes to locals, effectively charging Jamaicans for access to their own shores. "You are selling back access to people," he said, describing it as a return to "colonial logic." According to his organization, less than 1 percent of Jamaica's coastline remains freely accessible to residents. The group is currently fighting five separate lawsuits against the Jamaican government and private developers over beach access.
For governments across the region, tourism growth represents an attractive path to economic development. But as Taylor notes, travel is never neutral—it carries economic and moral weight. These developments often displace residents from ancestral coastlines, restrict public beach access, and redirect wealth away from the very people whose culture sustains the tourist experience. As demand for a piece of Caribbean paradise continues to grow, land defenders across the islands remain anxious that tourism, rather than creating opportunity, will permanently transform the places they call home.
Notable Quotes
It is not money I am looking for. What I want is to continue with my land.— Miranda Beazer, former bar owner in Barbuda
Travel carries an economic and moral weight. These developments often displace residents from ancestral coastlines and redirect wealth away from the people whose culture sustains the tourist experience.— Devon Taylor, Jamaica Beach Birthright Environmental Movement
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does the land ownership system in Barbuda matter so much to this story?
Because it was designed to protect the community from exactly what's happening now. After slavery ended, Barbudans created a collective system so no one person could sell the island away. But that protection only works if the government enforces it. When they carved out exceptions for wealthy developers, they hollowed out the entire law.
So the courts sided with the government even though the government was breaking its own rules?
Technically, the courts said the government had the authority to make exceptions. But yes—the highest court decided that being Barbudan doesn't actually give you property rights, which is a stunning reversal of what the 2007 law promised.
What's the connection between what happened in Barbuda and what's happening in Jamaica?
Both islands inherited colonial property systems that never gave ordinary people real ownership of coastal land. Wealthy outsiders exploit that gap. Jamaica's new proposal to sell beach passes is almost worse—it makes locals pay to access what they never lost the right to use.
Is there any chance these legal battles could succeed?
The precedent is not encouraging. But the activists aren't stopping. They understand that once these beaches become private resorts, the cultural and economic loss is permanent. You can't rebuild a gathering place after it's been turned into a gated community.
What does Robert De Niro's involvement change about this?
It raises the profile and the stakes. A celebrity billionaire backing a resort makes it harder for governments to say no—it looks like progress, like investment. But it also makes the dispossession more visible, which is why the story matters now.