The Brave Women of Belize

The deafening murmur of mingling documentary filmmakers forces me to flee into the calmest corner of the room. A lonely onlooker I’m suddenly made aware of an exceptionally well-dressed young man standing next to me. He reaches out with a handshake.

– My name is Eladio.

– Malcolm, what brought you here?

– I’ve made a film about a maritime reserve in Central America. Run by women.

– How in the world could you know that I would be interested?

– Intuition, maybe.

An hour later I’m back in my hotel room. For 82 minutes I indulge myself in the story of the women of Belize, who have become the driving force behind the preservation of the largest barrier reef in the Northern Hemisphere. The women who have become researchers, guardians of the coastal fishery, entrepreneurs in sustainable tourism; the women who fronted the initiative to ban oil drilling and the women who contributed to saving Belize’s rundown economy, by helping the government “sell” part of the national debt as Blue Bonds.

In brief, Blue Bonds are a method to exchange government loans on favourable terms for a long-term commitment to preserve threatened marine ecosystems. The small country of Belize (400 000 inhabitants, on the Central American east coast) fell on hard times during the Covid pandemic, when the tourist industry lost the lion part of its expected incomes. The state ended up with a mountainous debt but managed to convince the lenders to give a substantial rebate against a commitment to protect the unique barrier reef. The deal was sealed already at the end of 2021 and became a model for how small coastal and island countries can manage fragile eco systems in the sustainable way.

Eladio Arvelo’s film is called Wealth Untold and will hopefully reach an international audience sometime soon. Sylvia Earle, a heralded veteran in the fight to protect the great oceans, concludes that the message of the film is that the women of Belize should be an inspiration for the rest of the world. That message has by now been heard by the Seychelles and other small countries which have emulated Belize’s example. The situation in her own home country, USA, is less encouraging. The new energetic president started by acting in a different direction, by renaming the Mexican Gulf, now the American Gulf. And with similar energy he urged Elon Musk and his team to oversee the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Authority, NOAA, the centre for protection of US maritime reserves.

NOAA was the subject of cutdowns during Donald Trump’s first presidency. Jim Delgado, who became a friend when I worked as a producer for Deep Sea Productions, quit the same day Trump took charge, in 2017. Jim has spent his entire professional life helping to build the impressive network of marine protected areas pioneered by the USA, starting with the world’s oldest (from 1973, dedicated to the wreck of Monitor, a hero ship from the US civil war) to the largest, Papahanaumokuakea, which covers a large portion of the Hawaiian archipelago. It reached its maximum size during the Obama presidency.

For Jim it was personal. He could not see himself working under a president who is a climate change denier with a propensity for drilling in the oceans for fossil fuels. He feared for the future of the hard work he himself had put in during four decades to overcome a deeply rooted distrust of federal management in coastal waters and lakes, while creating the world’s widest network of marine protected areas. He feared that the US would go from being a forerunner in the efforts to restore human damage of the blue eco systems to a new ruthless exploitation of oil and gas resources.

Jim is particularly proud of how NOAA has achieved an acceptance for protection of threatened areas through close cooperation with local communities, gentle persuasion and trial periods, rather than prohibition and policing. He has seen protected areas expand organically, when neighbouring communities have seen economic benefit and improved conditions in the reserves – and consequently asked for their regions also to be protected.

I was invited by Jim to Thunder Bay in Lake Huron, near the Canadian border. A windblown corner of the Great Lakes, known as a danger for seafarers in the 19^th century. The North American Great Lakes are a result of the latest glaciation period. This makes them in many ways similar to the Baltic Sea. Environmentally hazardous industries have left a legacy of chemical pollution and dead lake bottom areas. In the anoxic water hundreds of wrecks seem almost untouched by time on the bottom. In two decades, the small city of Alpena has seen its vast marine protected area turn into a source of pride as a model for locally driven ecological management. Far from the highways it has generated tourist revenue in a place that previously did not experience many visitors. Today the reserve reaches far out into the lake, all the way to the Canadian border.

The Thunder Bay reserve survived Trump’s first presidency. Now the future is uncertain. I communicate regularly with Stephanie, a marine archaeologist who has worked in the reserve since it was inaugurated. Musk’s team has already made sure that 10% of NOAA’s staff for marine conservation has been forced to quit. Stephanie worries about her own future at Thunder Bay and in the long run for the future of the nation’s oceans and lakes with the country’s new environmental policy. Or lack thereof.

We decide that we should meet again this year, in September. For the inauguration of the Marine National Park in the Nämdö Archipelago (253 km2), a mere postal stamp in comparison to Thunder Bay (11 140 km2). A really small step forward for the management of the Baltic Sea. But at least a small step forward.

^{Text: Malcolm Dixelius, Nämdö, documentary filmmaker}

^{Cover photo: from the film Wealth Untold by Eladio Arvelos}