“Everything Here Is for Sale, Even Our History”: Heritage and the Luxury Real Estate Market in Sint Maarten

Abstract

This contribution examines the luxury real estate sector in the Caribbean Island of Sint Maarten. Drawing upon an analysis of ethnographic observations, interviews, property market data and marketing materials, we pose two core questions to the data: (1) How are fragments of the Dutch-Caribbean past deployed in luxury real estate marketing? (2) How does cyclical hurricane damage influence the luxury real estate market and heritage preservation? Proportionally very few of the luxury real estate listings directly reference cultural history. Yet when “Dutch-style and “plantation-era” esthetics are referenced, they appear to add value to the properties while enhancing a sense of exclusivity but erase the history of colonial violence. In conjunction with these discursive effects are the material realities of the cyclical destruction of property by hurricanes through which distressed properties are sold at a discount to be redeveloped for luxury builds aimed largely at foreign purchasers. This disaster development model systematically destroys artifacts of tangible heritage while displacing residents from communal spaces. As climate change intensifies, we raise questions about the sustainability of this model on the island going forward.

1. Introduction

This contribution examines the luxury real estate sector in the Caribbean Island of Sint Maarten through the lens of heritage and its connections with disaster capitalism. Sint Maarten refers to the southern, Dutch-administrated part of the single Caribbean Island that is shared with the French collectivity of Saint-Martin to the north; although the island functions as an integrated tourism and property space, this article focuses on the Dutch jurisdiction. Sint Maarten is situated within the Leeward Islands chains of the Lesser Antilles roughly 250 km east of Puerto Rico. The island’s dual nation status between the Dutch (Sint Maarten) and French (Saint Martin) functions as a single tourism and property market. Characterized by a tropical climate, hilly interior terrain, and extensive coastlines, the island has long been marketed as a leisure destination, focused on beach tourism, cruise arrivals and offshore consumption. Tourism is the island’s primary economic engine and the dominant force shaping land use and development pressures, particularly in coastal and hillside areas.

Heritage is a socially constructed and politically charged process through which identities, power relations, and economic interests are negotiated (Smith 2006; Kirshenblatt-Gimblett 1998). Heritage is thus not an assemblage of physical sites or material artifacts; it is an active process in which selection, valorization, and, in some instances, exclusion all play a role (Tunbridge and Ashworth 1996). Scholars have shown that heritage is often mobilized to legitimize the interests of dominant social groups, while marginalizing alternative narratives and communities (Waterton and Smith 2010; Graham et al. 2000). In postcolonial contexts, “heritagization” reflects the lingering effects of colonial power structures, inherited from a history of European imperial governance (Silverman and Ruggles 2007). Building on Ranger and Hobsbawm’s (1983) insights that “tradition” is often newly forged to legitimize authority and stabilize power relations, and on Handler’s (1986) critique of “authenticity,” we analyze the references to heritage within the luxury real estate sector as marketing tools intended to add value to these properties, but which obfuscate the realities of the colonial era histories to which they are inexorably linked. As the Nara Document on Authenticity, an international heritage charter, emphasizes, authenticity cannot be assessed through fixed or universal criteria, but must be understood in relation to the cultural context in which heritage is produced, interpreted, and valued (ICOMOS 1994, p. 118). This is especially relevant in Sint Maarten, where selective references to “Dutch-style” or “plantation-era” esthetics detach built forms from the historical meanings that give them cultural significance.

In Sint Maarten, these claims materialize in listing language such as “Dutch-Style”, in zoning exemptions, and in the curatorial silence that detaches “plantation-era” esthetics from slavery’s violence, a pattern consistent with Authorized Heritage Discourse, which privileges elite framings of the past and normalizes selective histories (Smith 2006). This results in a discursive erasure of this history while heritage-focused sites remain at risk due to development or lack of protection. For many residents, these colonial remnants are material anchors of collective memory and identity. Slave-built walls, estate ruins, and plantation boundaries encode histories of forced labor, surveillance, and resistance including the flight of enslaved people across the French border prior to abolition on the Dutch side. Their destruction through luxury development produces a sense of historical erasure and weakens residents’ ability to claim the past as a source of identity and moral authority. This has resulted in tensions between the developers and the larger community over heritage preservation and authenticity, further problematized by the importance of the tourist sector and the island’s branding. Tourism and luxury real estate are interwoven, yet recent shifts demonstrate the enhanced role of heritage as well as sustainability within the tourist sector and which are somewhat at odds with the current approach of the luxury real estate sector on the island.

In conjunction with the discursive mobilization of heritage are the effects of the material realities of the cyclical destruction of property by hurricanes through which distressed properties are sold at a discount to be redeveloped for luxury builds (or rebuilds) aimed largely at foreign purchasers. The island is struck by a major storm roughly every 2.5 years, and by Category 4 or higher hurricanes about every 15 years (Hurricane City 2023). Hurricane Irma in 2017 damaged approximately 90% of the island’s building stock and caused damages exceeding 2.5 times the island’s GDP (CRED 2017; World Bank 2018). Each cycle of destruction and reconstruction opens fresh opportunities for luxury development (Björnsson et al. 2024; Björnsson 2026), akin to a form of disaster capitalism (Klein 2008). In this article, we argue that the discursive thinning of heritage in marketing and the material vulnerability of heritage sites under post-disaster redevelopment are mutually reinforcing processes. As climate change intensifies and severe weather events become more destructive, this model raises questions about the long-term survival of tangible and intangible heritage on the island.

The analysis is organized around two core questions that we posed to the data: (1) How are fragments of the Dutch-Caribbean past deployed in luxury real estate marketing? (2) How does cyclical hurricane damage influence the luxury real estate market and heritage preservation? By bringing these questions together, the article shows how heritage is simultaneously aestheticized as a selective value-added device and endangered by the development model that profits from environmental volatility.

2. Context

To better contextualize these pressures, a brief excursus on the island’s land regime and its colonial history is essential. From the Dutch occupation in 1648 to the liberal land reforms of the 1970s, the former sugar estates held by a handful of planter families shifted to today’s patchwork of privately titled or long-leased parcels (~84%), leaving little (±16%) of the national territory in public hands (VROMI 2021). Recent cadastral data shows that 84% of Sint Maarten’s 34 km² is now held under private freehold or 60-year-long lease (erpacht) contracts (VROMI 2021), while tourism generates ≈ 45% of GDP and 73% of foreign exchange earnings (World Bank 2024). This situation foregrounds the struggles over who can claim the past and the land beneath it. Sint Maarten’s constitutional status within the Kingdom of the Netherlands embeds its heritage politics in a colonial legacy of Dutch rule (Roitman and Veenendaal 2016). The island exists as a constituent country within the Dutch Kingdom (subject to fiscal and administrative oversight), embedded in financial and policy regimes where multilateral lenders define recovery metrics, and in a regional economy where tourism-led growth remains the default prescription. This creates what Fanon (1961) and Nkrumah (1965) analyze as neo-colonial governance, understood here as a condition in which formal sovereignty persists while key economic and policy decisions remain shaped by metropolitan powers and international financial institutions. These governance architectures shape the parameters within which heritage decisions are made, widening opportunities for elite-driven redevelopment while narrowing the scope for community-centered heritage stewardship.

These hurricane-driven cycles of destruction and distress sales are key mechanisms through which heritage sites are enclosed, redeveloped, or erased, resulting in the loss of tangible and intangible heritage (Björnsson 2026; Klein 2008). In Sint Maarten, this dynamic is reflective in disputes over rapid development and in cases such as the destruction of historically significant sites including the Diamond Estate ruins (The Daily Herald 2023b; SMN News 2023). Other factors such as the privately titled long-lease (erpacht) regime, the post-disaster finance architecture, and the “growth machine” coalition of developers, state agencies, and tourism actors (after Logan and Molotch (1987); Harvey (2003)), as well as the island’s ambiguous relationship with the Netherlands and the European Union, also need to be factored into the analysis. These issues are particularly significant for small islands vulnerable both to environmental disasters and economic dependency. Islands such as Sint Maarten, whose history is shaped by European colonialism in the Caribbean and, in more recent times, global flows of finance and tourism, increasingly face pressures where heritage is curated and commodified to broadly serve tourism and luxury-oriented developments (Sheller 2003; Baldacchino 2006). In the case of Sint Maarten, the invocation of heritage as a marketing tool stands in contrast to the evidence suggesting that the preservation of actual objects of heritage sites is not a priority for the sector or, it would seem, the state.

3. Methods

This study draws on the analysis of data produced as a result of an ethnographic research project conducted by the first author on Sint Maarten’s luxury real estate sector. The first author conducted fieldwork on the island during the latter half of 2023. During 2024 and into 2025, follow-up interviews were conducted along with a detailed analysis of the marketing material produced by the sector as well as relevant policy and financial data. In total, 31 semi-structured qualitative in-depth interviews were conducted with local stakeholders. This included, among others, local government personnel, members of parliament, architects, lawyers, archeologists, policymakers, environmental advocates, property developers, real estate agents, and community representatives. The flexible nature of the semi-structured format chosen for this study allows participants to offer extended narratives on their own terms (Bernard 2011; Neumann 2014). The participants were selected based on purposive snowball sampling (Neumann 2014). The initial participants were identified via professional profiles on LinkedIn based on their known expertise or involvement with the luxury real estate sector on Sint Maarten. Subsequently, a snowball approach was employed to identify additional relevant stakeholders recommended by initial informants (Neumann 2014). All of the interviews were conducted in English and were recorded with the explicit informed consent of each participant and later transcribed. Interviews lasted approximately 60 min and were conducted in person or online, depending on participant availability. The transcription process unfolded over three phases: (1) open inductive coding, (2) axial grouping of first-order codes into themes (Strauss and Corbin 1998), and (3) cross-case matrix comparison to identify convergent and divergent patterns (Miles and Huberman 1994). To ensure participant privacy, all names in this study are pseudonyms. Given Sint Maarten’s limited population of approximately 40,000 and the specialized nature of the real estate sector, the 31 interviews provide broad coverage across key stakeholder categories central to the research questions. Sampling continued until thematic saturation was observed. The proposal for this project was submitted to the University of Iceland Committee on Research Ethics in 2023. A letter was received by the first author in August of 2023 from the committee which stated that based on the description of the methods there is no specific need for an ethics committee review, and the project could proceed.

Secondary sources were used to enhance validity and readability by comparing them with interview findings. Secondary sources were used to enhance analytic validity by comparing documentary, policy, media, and market data with interview claims. These secondary data sources included government reports, policy documents, local development guidelines, relevant news articles, and openly available datasets such as Sint Maarten’s property price index (Central Bank Curacao & Sint Maarten 2025) and census and labor-force micro tables from Statistics Sint Maarten. Marketing materials were collected from local brokerage websites and developer portals between 2023 and 2025 and analyzed through discourse analysis techniques consistent with qualitative document analysis approaches outlined by Neumann (2014). Each item was treated as a unit of analysis and coded for the presence/absence of heritage markers (e.g., “Dutch-style”, “plantation-era”, “historic”, “heritage”, and named monuments/sites) and for recurring narrative strategies through which exclusivity, authenticity, and place were constructed.

In reflecting upon issues of positionality, the first author, as an Icelandic researcher, follows Loftsdóttir’s (2012) critical observation of Iceland’s historical self-positioning vis-á-vis the global south, despite the nation having not engaged directly in colonialism. Loftsdóttir highlights that the Icelandic identity has historically contrasted itself with the constructed “colonial other”. Acknowledging these dynamics raises our awareness of an Icelandic researcher investigating heritage issues in a distinctly post-colonial context. As such, the data collection and analysis processes were approached with reflective awareness of positionality and how that might influence the interactions, interpretations, and outcomes of this research.

4. Anthropology of Heritage

Heritage has only become recognized as a specific field of inquiry within anthropology, the home discipline of the authors, since the 1990s (MacDonald 2018). This time, the discipline has produced relatively significant works in the literature, often in conjunction with the insights provided by cognate disciplines. Definitions of heritage are extensive and contested, and this kind of overview has already been provided by other authors (MacDonald 2018; Arizpe and Amescua 2013; Geismar 2015; Salemink 2021). Instead, we have selected a number of core themes with which to aid in the analysis while building upon and extending others.

One key field within this body of work contends that the politics of heritage involves power dynamics and struggles over issues of representation, authenticity, and ownership of cultural narratives, along with economic commodification. Dominant groups selectively preserve and define heritage to align it with the interests of the elites, which often marginalizes alternative narratives (Handler 1985, 1988; Handler and Linnekin 1984). This dynamic reflects broader struggles over identity, representation, and resource access (Smith 2006). The designation and portrayal of heritage sites often serve governmental agendas and economic elites, sidelining diverse voices and interests in the process (Graham et al. 2000; Waterton and Smith 2010). The concept of heritagization (Kirshenblatt-Gimblett 1998; Smith 2006) refers to the process through which elements of material culture (objects, sites, or spaces) are reinterpreted and revalued as heritage. This transformation turns them into culturally valued assets through a deliberate process which positions them as the symbolic representations of identity, tradition, and cultural memory. Objects of physical heritage become more significant through curated performances and displays in museums, tourism, and cultural festivals (Kirshenblatt-Gimblett 1998). The physically tangible properties of heritage have also been contrasted with its intangible counterpart, which refers to non-physical cultural expressions like stories, traditions, and emotions. As Rosaldo (2013) comments: “Intangible heritage is a relational term which is understood in contrast with tangible heritage. Intangible heritage is considered to be of less obvious value than the tangible. It is the immaterial or the ephemeral as opposed to the material or the enduring, even permanent” (Rosaldo 2013, vol. 37). However, it can be argued that tangible and intangible properties and values of heritage are not mutually exclusive and in fact are inseparable and often follow a similar logic and practice. This perspective aligns with approaches in heritage conservation that emphasize the importance of vernacular heritage as the fundamental expression of a community’s cultural identity and its relationship with place (ICOMOS 1999). Such heritage also encompasses the way in which these heritage structures are used, understood, and embedded within social practices, including their intangible associations.

The commodification of what is deemed heritage has also been raised in the literature. Geismar (2015), for example, writes of a “heritage industry” which draws “often exploitatively, on languages of value, resource management, production, consumption, and profitability” (Geismar 2015). In turn, the intangible properties of heritage can be commodified as well, and they can also serve to increase the economic value of properties or sites. Anthropologists have highlighted that intangible heritage often faces commodification, with traditional practices becoming simplified or staged for tourism and which reduces its authenticity and alters the local cultural identity (Cohen 1988; MacCannell 1999). The intangible qualities of heritage can serve to enhance the economic value of physical properties that are marketed with reference to heritage. In the Spanish island of Majorca, Franquesa (2013) found that qualities of heritage are economically valuable to the property market, a value-added proposition in a manner of speaking. Franquesa states that these intangible qualities of heritage can serve as a marketing tool as much as they can serve as leverage for governments, international organizations such as UNESCO, and grassroots, community-based groups: “Realtors use it to ‘add value’ to their property, tourist agents to sell tourist packages, local authorities to legitimize their policies, and preservationist and residents’ associations to oppose real estate developments” (Franquesa 2013, vol. 346). A key set of questions revolve around who manages heritage, how this is done, and for whose benefit. Harvey’s (2003) concept of accumulation by dispossession provides the means to understand why heritage is selectively preserved by specific interests, rather than democratically managed for the benefit of the larger society. Through this lens, capitalist development expands through the privatization of public or common resources like land and resources as well as tangible and intangible cultural assets like heritage to reinforce capital accumulation. Commodification driven by real estate development frequently prioritizes the interests of global capital, which reinforces exclusionary practices while fostering socio-spatial inequalities (Gotham 2005; Swyngedouw et al. 2002). In this sense, heritage preservation is embedded within neoliberal logics, with cultural assets becoming commodified to attract investments, tourism, and economic rejuvenation.

The cyclical destruction and rebuilding of property caused by hurricanes endemic to this part of the Caribbean, or in other regions, has received little attention in the anthropology of heritage literature, though it has been featured in discussions of “blue heritage,” the cultural dimensions of coastal and marine environments (Boswell et al. 2022). Such ecological concerns are an important addition to the theorization around heritage politics. The dynamics of heritage management is complicated by the realities of climate change, especially in hurricane-prone regions like Sint Maarten. These regions are susceptible to rising sea levels, erosion, and hurricanes, exacerbated by the effects of climate change. Many coastal sites that are vulnerable to environmental degradation are often rich in symbolic or historic significance, which are valued in the luxury real estate sector. These understandings have played a significant role in our analysis of the luxury real estate market.

5. Results

The core questions which governed the research process and this contribution are as follows: (1) How are fragments of the Dutch-Caribbean past deployed in luxury real estate marketing? (2) How does cyclical hurricane damage influence the luxury real estate market and heritage preservation? The findings are presented in line with these questions, with some space left in the discussion for their further consideration in light of the theoretical framework.

5.1. Dutch-Caribbean Heritage Fragments: Discursive and Material

A key set of findings from the data which spoke to the question of how heritage was invoked by the luxury real estate market in Sint Maarten suggested that it was somewhat “absent” yet appeared in a fragmentary way to occupy a rather strategic position in marketing. Furthermore, when it was present, it was rather decontextualized and served to obfuscate the colonial histories that it also selectively invoked. The discursive framing of heritage, however, also intertwined with the materiality of heritage sites under threat from both development as well as hurricanes. Issues related to this referenced by interview participants spoke to the struggles concerning ineffective policies, commodification and authenticity, and community disempowerment regarding heritage preservation.

5.1.1. The “Absent Presence” of Heritage in Luxury Real Estate Branding

A systematic review of luxury property advertisements across major real estate platforms found that fewer than 5% of these advertisements made any direct heritage references, though the topic frequently appeared in interview data. When heritage did appear in these materials, it was in the form of what could be called “fragments” and referenced such things as “Dutch-style architecture” or “plantation-era landmarks”. Some references in these materials invoked the history of the island, albeit in a simplistic way; nevertheless, these properties appeared to be marketed in an ahistorical, global sense of “luxury” that is not rooted in a specific locale. For example, Adrian, a local real estate marketer, described how the focus in property marketing often prioritizes conveying a sense of exclusivity and luxury rather than emphasizing local heritage explicitly. As he explained, “if you have a luxurious brand […] you make sure everything that goes out is at high-end look and feel, then you’re telling your guests that we are high-end, and when they come here [to the properties advertised by them on Sint Maarten] that’s what they can expect”. By showing properties with carefully crafted upscale esthetics, Adrian explained that this implicitly signals to potential clients that offerings are of the higher end, which reinforces their perceptions of luxury without making direct reference to heritage. However, this is not to say that heritage was entirely absent. Some real estate agencies indeed leveraged notions of heritage and cultural authenticity to increase appeal, as did the tourist sector. For instance, one luxury resort emphasized their designs as inspired by Sint Maarten’s dual Dutch colonial cultural heritage, stating in their promotional materials that their project “embodies Dutch-style architecture (Sotheby’s International Realty n.d.)”. Another example from developers is the newly opened Sint Maarten Tourist Office, housed in the historic St. Joseph building on Front Street. Its developers highlighted the fusion of “old-world-charm (Gioia Group 2023)” with a “modern outlook”, creating a space fostering tourism and emphasizing Sint Maarten’s “cultural, historical and artistic value”.

While such references to heritage tend to gloss over the deeper implications of the island’s colonial history, it is clear that they held some utility for the sector in strategic ways. The Bethlehem development project emphasized “conservation through development”, with plans to incorporate what it describes as an authentic plantation-era landmark, including the “18th-century cisterns built from Dutch bricks”, along with “slave cemeteries” and “sugar factories”, serving as tourist attractions rooted in Sint Marten’s cultural history. The development of the property sector, however, resulted in some conflicts and disputes over what constituted heritage, and how and if it should be preserved.

5.1.2. Heritage-Related Preservation and Conflict

The existential threat to these sites and the history of the island was commented upon in interviews, both in reference to property development, environmental degradation as well as a general lack of interest in preservation by developers and the local authorities. Remnants of the slave-built walls can be found around the island, even though the most significant one at the Diamond Estate has been destroyed. These walls serve as a connection to the ancestors of the local population who endured the hard environmental conditions and the harsh conditions of slavery. Originally, these walls were a dominant feature of the landscape, but today, what remains of these walls are threatened by property development or neglect. As one research participant, Helena, explained, the slave walls have been the subject of both intentional and incidental removals. Over the years, parts of the walls nearing the French border have been dismantled in moments of public protests or during broader disputes. “They were taking rocks off our side [of the slave walls]”, which were then used as temporary barriers on the roads. Following these incidents the local authorities cleared the rocks away, placing them “on the French side”, she continued, rather than restoring them to their original positions. These events, in conjunction with damage caused by hurricane events, have resulted in a noticeable loss of stones that once made up these historic landmarks. The walls’ gradual erosion both compromises its physical integrity but also leaves its cultural memory in fragments. For many in the community, these stones represent the struggles of past generations and a shared cultural identity for the people of Sint Maarten.

This process has also been compounded by an arguably weak regulatory framework which some locals cite as a factor that fails to protect this history (see: SMN News 2025). Framing heritage as a value-added aspect of the sector within these marketing materials contrasts with practice in relation to the tendency of developers to regard heritage sites as an impediment to building projects. Environmental concerns appear to be treated in a similar manner. Zoning policies intended to protect landscapes and heritage sites have been systematically circumvented to facilitate luxury development. Francine, a policy worker, notes that the 1998 hillside policy (Sint Maarten Government 2012; VROMI 2025) restricted building on hilltops as they were not considered suitable for development due to environmental reasons. However, many landowners with political connections are challenging the government over this policy, arguing that hilltops should be open for development. “People are not happy with it”, Francine explains, highlighting the persistent conflict between developers and evolving policies intended to preserve the landscape. Despite public hearings and appeals from residents to protect the villages from high-rise development in areas like Simpson Bay and Philipsburg, policies are shifting in favor of large-scale projects in these areas (The Daily Herald 2023a; SMN News 2014; VROMI 2021). A recent development site on one of Sint Maarten’s mountaintops, which the hillside policy should have prevented, illustrates this pattern of regulatory circumvention (Islands 2025).

5.1.3. Commodification of Tangible and Intangible Heritage

Local research participants commented upon the general commodification of heritage which they see as serving business interests over the preservation of their history. The commodification is largely driven by the influx of property development, which is actively transforming the “authentic” cultural practices into carefully curated spectacles catering to the elites. According to Karina, “Everything here is for sale, even our history”. This sentiment is echoed among local research participants who feel as if their heritage is being stripped away to serve a commercial agenda. Residents recounted instances where sites of historic significance were destroyed to make way for luxury developments, removing landmarks in favor of economic interests. Cedric highlighted this sentiment by discussing the recent destruction of the Diamond Estate, a historic plantation site on Sint Maarten. He explained that the Diamond Estate was the location of the annual re-enactment of the “Diamond Estate Run,” which commemorates a historic struggle for freedom. Cedric noted, “that property, the owners of that property have decided to develop it […] whoever started developing it had no respect, no value to the slave wall and knocked it down”. During the 1800s, enslaved people would risk their lives to escape across the border to the French side, where slavery had been abolished in 1848—15 years before it ended on the Dutch Side (Roitman 2016). Cultural performances, like the performance at the Diamond Estate, are now increasingly disappearing and with it some local connections to this past. As Dalia, a government official noted, “our dances, our songs, they are not ours anymore. They are just a part of the ‘island experience’ package now”.

Nolan, another research participant, highlighted an additional perspective: the indirect role heritage sites play in stimulating real estate investment. He explains that Sint Maarten’s economy is heavily reliant on tourism, describing it as a “mono-pillar economic structure”. In his analysis, tourism serves an additional function for the real estate sector as it drives immediate economic activity, but perhaps more subtly, it provides essential exposure to potential property investors. He explains that tourists often come initially for a visit to experience the island and sometimes subsequently choose to invest in property because they appreciate the environment, the history and its settings. In this way, he argues that tourism becomes “a stimulus for property investment”. Although travel marketing often frames the French side as more “boutique” and the Dutch side as more “mass-tourism”-oriented, luxury real estate and high-end consumption are distributed across both jurisdictions; the distinction operates more as a branding shorthand than a reliable boundary in the property market. In recent years there has been governmental push to emphasize heritage in the tourist sector. The arrival of tourists increased by 20.5% in July 2024 compared to 2023 (STAT 2024; Sotheby’s International Realty 2024), while the World Bank’s recovery plan calls for diversification beyond traditional “sun, sea, sand” marketing by incorporating cultural products, with heritage being one such example. The government has launched an Integrated Cultural Policy Framework, and official tourism websites feature dedicated heritage content. Considering the interconnection between the two sectors, it would not be surprising to see the luxury real estate market follow suit in marketing practices.

The fragmentary references to the ahistorical, decontextualized heritage featured by luxury real estate advertisements, in conjunction with the increasing emphasis upon a commoditized version of heritage pursued by the closely connected tourist sector, has not gone unnoticed. Interview data reveal a sense of ambiguity among local research participants about what is authentic in terms of cultural heritage. Some referred to a sense of disconnect or uncertainty as to what Sint Maarten culture now represents, especially in the context of the global flows of people, goods and information. Naomi, a local government employee, explains that the cultural disconnect is exacerbated by the island’s multicultural demographic. “Our culture, to a certain extent, is very much American”, she explains, noting that this mix is complicated by the island’s international demographic. Many locals focus on their own struggles rather than connecting to the island’s heritage. “There’s so many different nationalities here, I don’t know if everyone wants to learn about the history of Sint Maarten”, she observes. Even the few activities that include heritage elements are often aimed at tourists rather than the local community. The prior lack of emphasis upon heritage in Sint Maarten, as well as questions about authenticity, has placed the island at a competitive disadvantage in attracting heritage tourism compared with other markets in the region. As Helena observed, “We’re losing tourism to other locations that spend more time on heritage”. Many locals believe that Sint Maarten does not deliver on the promise of what marketers refer to as the authentic Caribbean experience. Instead, local critics describe the island experience as a “polished” experience divorced of strong connection to local traditions. Felicia explains that there is an increased push to incorporate culture and history into Sint Maarten’s tourism campaigns. She explains, “They say if you want to maintain your standing in the Caribbean you need to rebrand yourself […] until 2007–2017 the branding was about ‘sea, sand, and sun’ or sea, sand, and fun,’ now we are working on exploring the cultural product of Sint Maarten”. She further explained that one of the campaigns was to feature things beyond the casino and nightlife scene by bringing in cultural elements over the past few years. Other participants’ accounts also highlighted that heritage and cultural identity are entering the official tourism branding of the island of late. This rebranding is likely to impact the luxury real estate sector, as tourists become more curious about the island’s “authentic” culture beyond the “sun and sand” image and the sector will cater to that need. The next section will shift focus to the second key question that motivated this research project: how does cyclical hurricane damage influence the luxury real estate market and heritage preservation?

5.2. Hurricane-Elite-Heritage Nexus

The second component of the analysis focuses on what can be referred to as a “hurricane–elite–heritage nexus,” a shorthand for how repeated hurricanes, elite capture, and heritage (as both narrative and material traces) become mutually reinforcing. Cyclical damage by hurricanes feeds distress-driven sales, which in turn lead to new builds that prioritize the needs of local elites and foreign capital at the disadvantage of the local community and efforts to protect heritage. Because many tangible heritage traces (e.g., estate ruins, wall alignments, and commemorative landscapes) are situated within privately owned estates, post-disaster transaction can become a hinge between hurricane damage, redevelopment, and the enclosure or erasure of heritage sites. The model also raises serious questions about sustainability in light of the increasing effects of climate change and the severity of weather events.

5.2.1. Hurricane-Driven Distress Sales

In the wake of significant hurricane events, interviews with those working in the sector revealed that local elites and foreign investors leveraged disaster conditions to acquire properties at discounted prices in anticipation of an increase in value; a pattern consistent with distressed asset acquisition as a mechanism of volatility capture (Björnsson 2026). Orion, a local real estate agent, explained that although these events are devastating for the larger community, they provide opportunities for influential actors. Following Hurricane Irma in 2017, Orion described, “I sold a lot of real estate […] a bunch”, in reference to the climate of intensified transaction quantity post-disaster. He further explained that many of the locals who owned property sold these properties at significantly discounted prices, often losing money on them because of the prolonged waiting period for insurance pay-outs and having limited resources to rebuild (The Daily Herald 2020; Visit Sint Maarten 2020). Cross-referencing these claims with other data sources, the CBCS and Kadaster property price index show that 52 percent of the 1693 recorded sales (2018–22) occurred in the two wealthiest coastal districts, while the Residential Price Index rebounded 8 percent above its 2020 low. The average asking price in Simpson Bay exceeded $800,000 (more than double most interior districts), showing how post-Irma capital has clustered in premium coastal zones. Highlighting the normalization of disaster-driven economics, Orion recounted a conversation he had just one week before Hurricane Irma struck. When asked what might stimulate the local economy, he bluntly responded, “Hurricane”, underscoring the cynical but calculated role that disasters play in the local real estate market. In addition to this dynamic, proponents of heritage preservation contend that historical preservation has also become further deemphasized, and this is often attributed to the local elites.

5.2.2. Local Elites and Development vs. Heritage Preservation

Research participants attributed the unchecked destruction of historical heritage to development pressures enabled through oligarchic interests. According to Marcus, a local, “Sint Maarten is basically an oligarchical structure […] there are maybe five or six families now […] these few families are the oligarchs who run the system here”. Their influences are argued to reach the legislative processes, urban planning, and heritage site management to manipulate preservation policies to facilitate development projects. Nolan, who raised concerns about preservation, explained that the Monument Council currently lacks proper oversight while rampant development and land clearing across the island escalates. “Look at the hillsides, look around everywhere. It’s [development] just exploding […] it’s not working out to the favor of heritage”. The focus on “nightclubs and casinos and parties” for tourism, he suggested, has overshadowed heritage and diminished the community’s island identity (VROMI 2020).

Preservation decisions, as claimed by research participants, are often made without public consultations. The explicit destruction of some significant features of the island’s historical heritage was placed at the feet of some of these oligarchic families. Nolan, a local property developer, shared an account where “one of the oligarch family members blatantly knocked down a heritage structure […] and then no accountability, nothing […] a month later, forgotten, nothing done”. The interviews revealed frustration among numerous participants regarding the heritage preservation decision-making processes. Nolan observed that “these decisions are not influenced by the public”, explaining that they are shaped in private discussion by elites “who are blinded by the wealth potential”, prioritizing personal interests over heritage. This frustration represents a systemic problem where wealth equates to influence, which can silence the voices of the broader community. Marcus highlighted the lack of enforcement, noting that “there’s nobody officially as an authority to stand up and say, ‘Look, no, you can’t do that’”, since top officials are often connected to development deals, discussions of which also appear in the local media (see also: Island 2020; St Maarten News 2023; Haar 2021; St Maarten News 2024). These concerns were also shared by Teresa, a government official who is familiar with the island’s development practices, as she explained: “It [these practices] has been working for them [the elites] forever, and they continue to do it”. She described a cycle where new laws are brushed aside due to personal interests, leaving community voices unheard while limiting real change.

5.2.3. Climate Risk and Sustainability Concerns

Interview data also revealed concerns among locals about the sustainability of these rapid building practices continuing, and this cycle of development and destruction. Joella reflected on the pace and scale of ongoing construction and the lack of coherent planning: “Sometimes it is possible to say that enough is enough”, she stated, advocating for a pause on large-scale development to reassess the island’s direction. She highlights that the mindset of continuous building as the solution for the island’s economic growth, which is maintained by the island’s successive governments, no longer aligns with the island’s needs. She explained, “we’re coming to a point now […] that this is not something that can really fly anymore”. The environmental challenges surrounding the destruction of natural spaces, both humanmade and natural disaster-made, have compounded the island’s transformation.

In addition to the immediate post-hurricane challenges, Nolan notes the far-reaching climate concerns that residents and officials have yet to fully acknowledge. He stressed that within a few decades, areas like Simpson Bay or Philipsburg might be lost, along with vital infrastructures like the island’s electric plant due to rising sea levels and intensifying storms. For Nolan, the critical issue is whether Sint Maarten will proactively reserve land for future infrastructural adaptation or if it will continue to sell and develop it for luxury property development projects. For some sustainability advocates, these recurrent disasters require broader climate-focused responses instead of endless rebuilding. Terasanne noted, “Anytime we’re destroying more than we restore, we’re failing future generations. It is not sustainable”. Rowan, a property developer, explained that Sint Maarten should model its property development practices more like Saint Barts, seeking development that “works with the island, not against it”. These voices highlight the need for more climate-resilient strategy that considers the intensifying storms and rising sea levels. However, Myron observes that the island lacks environmental and social impact assessment laws before development takes place, suggesting that a stronger legal framework could help climate adaption.

6. Discussion

This study examined how heritage functions as contested terrain in Sint Maarten’s luxury real estate sector by addressing two questions: (1) How are fragments of the Dutch-Caribbean past deployed in luxury real estate marketing? (2) How does cyclical hurricane damage influence the luxury real estate market and heritage preservation? Our findings reveal patterns of heritage commodification and disaster-driven dispossession that extends beyond Sint Maarten to broader debates in postcolonial heritage studies and disaster capitalism scholarship. One final point that will be addressed was raised by one participant who asked, given the issues that have been raised thus far, why bother to preserve heritage? That is to say, given its simplistic and strategic use in the luxury real estate marketing campaigns, the lack of will to preserve it and eagerness to eradicate it if it stands in the way of development, and its commodification for the related tourist sector, this participant posed the challenging question of its value for locals under these conditions and arguably bleak future.

The initial finding concerned the relative absence of heritage references from advertisement campaigns produced by the luxury real estate market. At first glance, this absence might suggest heritage’s irrelevance to the sector. Yet the interview material revealed that the subject was relevant for stakeholders and factored significantly in interviews and conversations. While these references to heritage in the ad campaigns were fragmentary and tended to offer simplistic and decontextualized versions of history and functioning perhaps as deracinated esthetic signifiers, this is not to say they are not impactful and important for the sector. Furthermore, the increasing positioning of the tourist sector toward heritage, as noted in the World Banks’ call to diversify beyond “sun, sea, and sand” branding through Sint Maarten’s Integrated Cultural Policy, will no doubt carry over toward the interlinked property market. Yet further tensions will arise given the documented history of developers’ seeming indifference to preserving material heritage and the weakness of the regulatory environment to protect it, enabled to a large degree by the local oligarchic interests and foreign investors.

This approach to heritage in the sector echoes Geismar’s (2015) concept of the heritage industry whereby the commodification of tangible and intangible heritage becomes an integral component and practice in how value is added to the property market, leaving locals to struggle with their interpretations of authenticity in contradiction to how the “authentic” Caribbean culture is packaged to attract experience-seeking visitors. Heritage becomes, in the words of a research participant, “just a part of the ‘island experience’ package now” in reference to how historical cultural performances become curated spectacles serving commercial interests. This aligns with Kirshenblatt-Gimblett’s (1998) analysis of how heritage become significant through staged displays that prioritize visitor consumption over local meaning-making. The Bethlehem development’s framing of “slave cemeteries” and “sugar factories” as attractions echo Smith’s (2006) Authorized Heritage Discourse, wherein dominant groups naturalize selective histories while marginalizing alternative narratives. Preserving plantation infrastructure without centering enslaved people’s history of struggles, resistance, and their humanity perpetuates plantation mythologies, glamorizing a particular version of that history while erasing Black suffering.

The key issues raised through our analysis of the luxury real estate marketing materials pertaining to heritage, in conjunction with those raised by research participants, are not novel and similar findings can be found in the Caribbean and beyond. However, what is less common is how the struggles over the representation and preservation of heritage intersect with the model the sector is pursuing, which can be seen as a form of disaster capitalism. Sint Maarten’s catastrophic exposure to major storms every 2.5 years, with Category 4+ hurricanes every 15 years, sets the stage for opportunities to create wealth via a destruction–accumulation cycle as outlined by stakeholders. This cycle operates through four mechanisms: (1) destruction and property damage via hurricane events; (2) distressed asset acquisition through distress sales driven by anticipation of profit and prolonged insurance delays which force local owners into discounted property sales; (3) enablement through oligarchic interests and a weak regulatory framework; and (4) selective reconstruction prioritizing elite coastal zones. The empirical pattern is visible through other forms of data: 52% of the 1693 recorded property sales (2018–2022) occurred in Sint Maarten’s two wealthiest coastal districts, while the residential property price index rebounded 8% above its 2020 nadir. Average asking prices in Simpson Bay exceeded $800,000, more than double most interior districts, demonstrating how post-Irma capital clustered in premium coastal zones. Real estate agent Orion’s blunt assessment that “Hurricane” would stimulate the economy, offered just one week before Irma’s landfall, captures the cynical but calculated role disasters play in Sint Maarten’s political economy.

This approach to property development extends Klein’s (2008) shock doctrine analysis beyond economic restructuring to encompass cultural dispossession. While Klein emphasized how disasters enable neoliberal policy implementation (privatization, deregulation, austerity), our research which focused on heritage led us to see how this environment creates opportunities for elite actors to appropriate land and cultural memory, communal spaces, and collective identity to add value to the sector, while also disregarding tangible and intangible forms of heritage that are important to the larger community. Research participants repeatedly made mention of how dense kinship and patron–client networks structure political life on the island. Oligarchic networks occupy key governmental positions (ministers, MPs, and planning officials) who in turn have controlling interests in major development firms, real estate agencies, and construction companies, creating direct influence over zoning decisions, building permits, and heritage preservation. The post-Irma period witnessed the effects of this through property consolidation but also systemic heritage erasure: slave walls further dismantled, coastal trails blocked by resort expansion, public beaches enclosed by security perimeters, and commemorative sites like the Diamond Estate destroyed for luxury development.

7. Conclusions

Our conclusions were in part influenced by a fundamental question raised by one research participant, Nolan, who asked that if heritage has been captured by oligarchic interests operating within the luxury real estate market and the tourism sector, the effects of which displace communities; that if heritage seems to be at as much risk from hurricanes as it is from developer disinterest in its preservation; and that if heritage has been instrumentalized for luxury accumulation, what justifies heritage preservation? This question demands engagement beyond assertions about heritage’s intrinsic value, especially given the critiques by indigenous scholars, postcolonial theorists, and heritage activists that preservation often reinforces challenges to power asymmetries. As Nolan observed, “We need to redefine what it is that we want to preserve…culture is constantly changing, and the society should decide what gets kept and what gets lost”. This calls for democratic heritage curation, where communities possess substantive authority over preservation priorities.

This article has also shown that the two dynamics identified in the analysis are not separate processes. The discursive thinning of heritage in luxury real estate and the marketing material are mutually reinforcing. Heritage is reduced to selective, decontextualized fragments that can circulate as value-added branding, while destruction, enclosure or neglect of heritage sites further weakens the communities’ claims to history, leaving commodified versions of the past increasingly dominant in the market. This helps explain how heritage can simultaneously be invoked as an esthetic asset and the island’s history.

Three additional conclusions emerge from our analysis. First, selective heritage preservation without critical interrogation reproduces colonial violence. The Bethlehem development’s framing of “slave cemeteries” and “sugar factories” as attractions is one such an example of that. Promoting a glamorized version of this history to add value to the real estate and tourism sectors erases and trivializes the historic suffering and inequality. Heritage preservation in this mode becomes complicit in ongoing contemporary dispossessions as well, as noted in numerous ways such as socio-spatial and economic exclusion in the wake of luxury developments.

Second, despite this, heritage preservation still matters. This became clear through passionate responses in the interview data. The Diamond Estate Run, commemorating enslaved people’s escape across to the French border, anchors the collective memory of resistance against domination. When such sites are destroyed, communities lose the tangible reminders linked to these memories. At the Diamond Estate, the destruction of the site also disrupted the commemorative practices through which histories of enslavement, escape, and resistance were publicly remembered. As Cedric’s testimony about the Diamond Estate’s destruction revealed, heritage sites carrying intangible significance (freedom struggle, resistance strategies, and communal survival) become collateral damage when luxury development proceeds without accountability.

Third, the post-disaster development model that has been adopted by the luxury real estate sector poses risks for the survival of tangible and intangible forms of heritage, but it also raises serious questions about its sustainability in the context of climate change and ecological degradation. In our current Anthropocene, heritage preservation must integrate ecological resilience or risk reproducing the extractive growth models that generated climate change in the first place. Interview participants raised numerous concerns about this, noting that areas like Simpson Bay or Philipsburg might be lost to rising sea levels and intensifying storms, or the lack of environmental and social impact assessment laws before development takes place, which compounds both heritage loss and ecological degradation.

Nolan poses a question about why preserving heritage requires moving beyond procedural reform toward what we term redistributive heritage governance. Existing heritage democratization frameworks, which emphasize community consultation and participatory planning, prove inadequate in the context of oligarchic capture and disaster capitalism. Our findings also suggest that “community” cannot be treated as a singular or unproblematic category in Sint Maarten, given the island’s demographic complexity and uneven ways in which cultural identity and historical meaning are understood and claimed. As such, heritage governance models should remain attentive to internal differences over whose past is being preserved, by whom, and for what purposes. These approaches assume that institutional neutrality and state capacity are absent in Sint Maarten’s governance architecture. When 84% of national territory exists under private title or long-lease regimes and post-disaster transactions systematically consolidate in wealthy coastal districts, consolidation mechanisms cannot redistribute the structural power to determine what survives.

We identify four institutional mechanisms needed for redistributive heritage governance in disaster-prone postcolonial contexts: first, statutory community heritage councils with binding veto power to overdevelopment affecting sites of collective significance. For Sint Maarten, former plantation lands, privately titled through post-abolition dispossession, would require public approval before redevelopment. Second, a resistance heritage registry that institutionalizes counter-hegemonic commemoration distinct from tourist heritage designation, prioritizing liberation struggle sites that would trigger automatic development restrictions and fund community-led interpretation for sites where enslaved people enacted resistance. Third, automatic preservation freezes following disasters requiring mandatory moratorium periods on destressed property sales and building permits affecting heritage sites, and penalties for unauthorized demolition. This effectively interrupts the disaster accumulation cycles documented in our findings. Fourth, blue heritage zoning integrating ecological and cultural memory protection in coastal management, mandating environmental and social impact assessment for climate-threatened sites.

These mechanisms share a common principle: they redistribute structural power over improving existing processes. They operationalize heritage decolonialization institutionally, determining who holds the authority to halt development, enforce penalties, and define heritage worth protecting. The case of Sint Maarten presented here suggests that while heritage may have been captured by the elites in this context, abandoning the struggle would cede definitional power entirely to the sector and the interconnected oligarchic and state actors. The task is perhaps not just heritage preservation per se but heritage democratization. Preservation becomes a noble goal when it strengthens community self-determination, is conducted for the benefit of the larger society rather than narrow economic interests and integrates ecological resilience. To end on a positive note, interview and observational data also revealed a line of inquiry that may serve for future research; that of what could be called a nascent youth-led activism movement which fuses coastal ecological stewardship with heritage preservation that some refer to as blue heritage (Boswell et al. 2022). While this emergent resistance fell outside our primary research focus, this points to a valuable potential counter movement requiring future research.