After the Fishing Ban: How a Chinese Island Turned Mangrove Protection into Tourism Jobs

Qi’ao Island’s transformation from a fishing community to a tourism destination shows how successful environmental restoration can disrupt traditional livelihoods and force communities to adapt. The case highlights that conservation and tourism only become sustainable when local people share benefits, trust governance, and are treated as partners rather than bystanders.

On Qi’ao Island in China’s Pearl River Estuary, saving nature came at a human cost. For generations, this small coastal community lived from fishing and aquaculture, closely tied to the tides and mangroves that shaped daily life. But when environmental damage reached a tipping point in the late 1990s, authorities stepped in. Fishing was restricted, fishponds were dismantled, and mangroves were replanted on a massive scale. What followed was one of China’s most successful coastal restoration projects, and one of its most difficult social transitions.

New research by scholars from Chulalongkorn University in Thailand and Guangzhou Xinhua University in China tells the story of how Qi’ao Island tried to rebuild livelihoods after conservation took away the sea as a source of income. Their findings reveal that sustainability is not just about restoring ecosystems, but about how people adapt, negotiate, and survive when their way of life is transformed.

From Fishing Nets to Mangrove Forests

By the 1990s, Qi’ao Island was ringed by oyster farms and fishponds that damaged water quality and nearly wiped out local mangroves. In response, the government established the Qi’ao Mangrove Protected Area in 2000. Fishing was banned inside the reserve, illegal nets were removed, and aquaculture facilities were torn down. Over time, mangroves expanded from just over 30 hectares to around 500 hectares, becoming a national symbol of ecological recovery.

For the environment, the results were clear. For people, they were not. More than 300 fishers lost their main source of income. Compensation was limited, rules were strict, and trust in authorities weakened. Many residents felt conservation had been done to them, not with them.

Tourism Arrives as a Lifeline

As the mangroves recovered, tourists began to arrive. Visitors were drawn by boardwalks through wetlands, seafood restaurants, and the island’s fishing culture. Tourism was promoted as the answer to the livelihood crisis, a way to turn conservation into income.

Slowly, restaurants, homestays, and small shops opened. Women started selling traditional snacks. Young people returned from cities to launch businesses. Community colleges offered training, and volunteer programs connected residents to conservation work. Over a decade, tourism became Qi’ao’s main economic activity, attracting more than a million visitors.

But tourism did not benefit everyone equally. Families with well-located homes could open guesthouses, while others were left out. Outside investors, with more money and experience, often secured the best opportunities. What looked like success on paper felt uncertain on the ground.

Hidden Tensions Beneath the Success

The research shows that while officials and tourists largely viewed tourism as a win, many residents remained uneasy. Crowds strained roads and parking. Waste management struggled to keep up. Sacred and ancestral buildings were converted into commercial spaces, upsetting locals who felt their culture was being sold.

Even nature pushed back. When tourist numbers grew too large, mangroves and infrastructure showed signs of stress, forcing temporary closures and new restrictions. The COVID-19 pandemic later exposed how fragile a tourism-based economy can be, shaking confidence in long-term stability.

The lesson is clear: sustainability is not a finished state. It is a balance that can tip when trust breaks down, benefits feel unfair, or nature is pushed too far.

What Qi’ao Teaches the World

Qi’ao Island’s story challenges the idea that protecting nature automatically improves lives. Conservation can open new opportunities, but only when communities are treated as partners, not obstacles. Fair benefit sharing, transparent rules, and respect for culture matter as much as ecological targets.

The research highlights a simple truth: people and nature are deeply connected. Mangroves reshaped Qi’ao’s economy, but residents’ trust, skills, and sense of belonging determined whether change could last. For coastal communities around the world facing similar transitions, Qi’ao offers both hope and caution. Saving nature works best when the people who live with it are part of the future it creates.