Indigenous resistance to settler colonialism: tourism stories from the Chittagong Hill Tracts

Abstract

Tourism development in the ‘post-conflict’ Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT) region of Bangladesh proliferated after the CHT Peace Accord was signed in 1997. The Accord positioned tourism as an important component in reasserting Indigenous Jumma peoples’ rights and facilitating regional socio-economic recovery. However, the Jumma people have remained firmly on the periphery of development discourse and the region’s growing tourism industry has since paved the way for the forces of settler colonialism - namely through the actions and mobilities of the non-Indigenous Bengali majority - to manifest in several ways, including the acquisition of land and the marginalisation of Indigenous communities. In response, and without formal support, Indigenous tourism stakeholders have utilised domestic tourism as a form of resistance to help build more stable modes of Indigenous employment and improve community access to education and healthcare. Increasing interest in Indigenous tourism also aided the establishment of ‘counter-narratives’ to address negative perceptions. In short, tourism has been harnessed by Indigenous communities to address heavily entrenched socio-economic inequalities and long-standing misconceptions of Indigenous cultures even though state-government strategies have largely sought the opposite. Drawing on an interpretivist paradigm, through semi-structured interviews with Jumma participants who are employed in the tourism industry, this paper distils the paradoxical challenges and opposing forces of tourism development in the CHT that continue to simultaneously stabilise and destabilise the region.

Keywords:

• Tourism development
• conflict
• indigenous
• settler colonialism
• Bangladesh

Introduction

The Chittagong Hills Tracts (CHT), located in southeast Bangladesh (Figure 1), remains one of South Asia’s most politically unstable regions. Between the late-1970s and late-1990s, the region endured a 20-year armed conflict between Parbatya Chattagram Jana Samhati Samiti (PCJSS), a political group that represented several Indigenous groups - collectively referred to as the Jumma people - and the Bangladeshi government. Whilst the origins of the conflict are tethered to the legacies of British imperialism that once afforded autonomy to the Jumma people, Bangladesh’s acquisition of independence from Pakistan in 1971 and its newly founded Constitution (ratified in 1972) became far more significant catalysts. Jumma rights and autonomy were rescinded as the country’s first government promoted the adoption of a collective identity by designating all citizens - irrespective of their cultures, traditions, or languages - as Bengalis. Attempts to assimilate the Jumma people led to the Chittagong Hill Tracts Conflict (1977–1997) and resulted in several thousand deaths, many of whom were civilians, and the displacement of thousands more that fled to India as refugees. After an eventual ceasefire, the Chittagong Hill Tracts Peace Accord was signed in 1997, and theoretically reasserted the rights of the CHT’s Indigenous peoples. As part of the Peace Accord’s strategy to foster reconciliation between the Jumma people and the Bengali-majority population, the development of a regional tourism economy was identified as an important opportunity to facilitate socio-economic recovery, and since the early 2000s, tourism has proliferated in the CHT (now estimated at 2.5–3 million domestic visitors per year).

Figure 1. Map of Bangladesh and the location of the Chittagong division.

However, consistent with Veracini’s (2015) notion of ‘settler colonialism’, the Bangladeshi state has attempted to (re)enforce systems and structures that are not only designed to occupy lands but repress the Jumma communities that reside upon them according to various human rights advocacy groups (UNPO, 2020). Therefore, understanding how tourism development trajectories have emerged in the context of the CHT are critical when acknowledging that tourism, and the various actors that work within it, can also act as ‘a significant colonising and subjugating force’ (Everingham et al., 2021, p. 1) and may propagate ‘forces of spatial colonization, commodification of place, land dispossession, enclosure, and other violent practices of ‘destructive creation’’ (Walter, 2023, p. 12). Our paper responds to a prominent knowledge gap in the region by distilling the experiences and actions of Indigenous tourism stakeholders (both business owners and employees) that have encountered developments that disrupt or undermine the Jumma peoples’ quest for political autonomy, land rights, and access to natural resources. Indeed, tourism development in the CHT continues to be highly problematic as growing non-Indigenous tourist mobilities and settler-driven tourism ventures now amplify ‘colonizing structures, systems, and narratives across time and space’ (Grimwood et al., 2019b, p. 1). In short, our paper offers important platforms for Indigenous voices to be given agency and frames the nature of tourism development through their lived experiences and actions.

Literature review

Developing ‘post-conflict’ tourism

Although the impacts of peace on tourism economies have been discussed at length, Farmaki (2017) argues that ‘the rhetoric on the contributory role of tourism to peace is fragile, with previous research findings remaining inconclusive of the nature of the relationship’ (p. 529). Whilst it has been implied that tourism can potentially support the pursuit of peace and foster reconciliation between previously warring groups through intergroup dialogue and the creation of mutually beneficial goals (see Causevic & Lynch, 2013), numerous challenges persist and require continuous renegotiation. These challenges were underscored by Anson (1999, p. 58) who posited that cease-fires are perhaps better framed as a period of ‘uneasy neutrality where each side watches and waits to see if former adversaries are committed to the complete cessation of violence’ (p. 58).

Though a conflict may have officially ceased, it is not uncommon for a range of ethnic, cultural, political, or religious tensions or divisions to remain that act as impediments to inclusive, intergroup participation in tourism (Buultjens et al., 2016; Causevic & Lynch, 2013; Naef & Ploner, 2016). The absence of trust serves to amplify this issue if equal representation of all parties is not established in post-conflict discourse (Becken & Carmignani, 2016; Causevic & Lynch, 2013), particularly when there is competition for resources that support tourism or if economic benefits are disproportionally distributed (Novelli et al., 2012). Socio-economic issues may be exacerbated when tourism economies grow rapidly and ‘outpace’ strategy responses (Winter, 2008) or when there is a continuation of asymmetrical power relations between stakeholders that were previously in conflict (Causevic & Lynch, 2011). In short, reconciliation is a long and difficult journey and layers of complexity are added when tourism quickly brings together actors that have not been afforded sufficient time to rebuild trust (Novelli et al., 2012).

In response to these challenges, slower and more organic ways of rebuilding trust and cooperation are essential and should include ‘community-oriented policies capable of improving the equitable distribution of tourism related capital’ (Winter, 2008, p. 535). Consistent with the suggestions of Buultjens et al. (2016), community engagement in post-conflict tourism development discourse is deemed paramount so that critical steps to support economic wellbeing and address longstanding socio-economic inequalities are given greater chances of success. These steps should endeavour to promote capacity building and knowledge transfer so that host communities become self-sufficient and capable of managing critical resources (Wondirad & Ewnetu, 2019). Moreover, Maekawa et al. (2013) add that building a post-conflict tourism economy around the needs of host communities may additionally foster ‘non-financial returns such as land access, effective natural resource management, and community development’ (p. 132).

However, strategising appropriate and effective community engagement remains complex as any approach must navigate various ideologies, political forces, and administrative structures that are often unique to the destination. Therefore, it is critical that if meaningful community participation is to be initiated, the constraints and impediments to participation must be identified and addressed, notably in settings where communities display limited knowledge of the tourism industry (Mitchell & Ashley, 2010). Nonetheless, this notion is structured around the assumption that engagement is desired by all actors and that there is broad consensus on the nature of and purpose of tourism development - a situation difficult to establish if the problems associated with settler colonialism manifest.

‘Post-conflict’ tourism development and settler colonialism

In settings where asymmetrical power relations persist - even after the cessation of conflict - tourism may be utilised as a mechanism to reassert political agendas through the forces of settler colonialism. Although Wijesinghe and Mura (2018, p. 101) suggest that colonialism is ‘an event of the past’, they remind us that ‘there exists specific hegemonic power structures that continue to exert power and control and affect people the same way colonialism did’. At its core, settler colonialism is structured around the notion of the ‘elimination of the native’ (Walter, 2023, p. 2), in which overt and covert systems and structures remove and then replace Indigenous communities with those of the settler (Lowman & Barker, 2015; Wolfe, 2006). As Tuck and Yang (2012) argue, settler colonialism differs from exogenous forms of colonialism in that it not only seeks to utilise land for economic benefit but so that it can establish and overlay its own societies in place of Indigenous groups. Indeed, Steinman (2016, p. 221) points out that the ‘processes of settlement institutionalize settler privileges materially and discursively, constructing settlers and their culture as superior and modern and Indigenous nations and their cultures as inferior and primitive’ that foster an ‘asymmetrical settler-Native binary’.

In scenarios where settler colonialism systems of power persist, tourism development is often positioned to be highly problematic from the perspective of Indigenous communities as it challenges the pursuit or continuation of autonomy, amplifies concerns surrounding land rights and displacement, or may be used as a mechanism to appropriate natural resources (Bandyopadhyay & Yuwanond, 2018; Cooke, 2017; Grimwood et al., 2019a). Tourism can be particularly effective in reinscribing and reinforcing settler-colonial narratives (Grimwood et al., 2019a) and has been positioned as a suppressive force that includes the nefarious actions of both tourism industry stakeholders and tourists themselves (see Everingham et al., 2021). These forces are not restricted to historical events but instead are perpetually in motion and slowly erode the social and cultural fabric of Indigenous communities (Wolfe, 2006). They may also seek to acquire natural resources, namely land, for economic gain (see Grimwood et al., 2019a; Lowman & Barker, 2015) and eradicate the pre-existing cultural identities and histories interwoven within these landscapes (see Devine & Ojeda, 2017). Indeed, Fortin et al. (2021) argue that settler colonialism processes untangle complex individual and collective Indigenous relationships to lands, and transform them to become static, economic resources that are ‘discursively and materially’ re-ordered for tourist consumption. In short, tourism development can significantly impede Indigenous rights and representation as a consequence (Everingham et al., 2021).

In response, an emerging body of literature has explored the ‘counter-narratives’ (see Wight, 2019) or ‘counter-representations’ (see Grimwood et al., 2019a) produced by Indigenous communities to resist settler colonial-driven tourism. As Grimwood et al. (2019a) reveal ‘several recent studies have illustrated how Indigenous Peoples are harnessing the socio-cultural, economic, and political forces of tourism in order to disrupt and challenge prevailing representations of Indigeneity in tourism generally’ (p. 242). These studies have identified formal responses in structured settings, including the development of museum exhibitions that offer counter-narratives to colonial histories and enable Indigenous stakeholders to perform as ‘co-curators’ (Bandyopadhyay & Yuwanond, 2018; Onciul, 2015; Walter, 2023). However, there remains a paucity of studies that have specifically explored the informal responses of Indigenous communities to settler colonialism in non-Eurocentric geographies where aggressive state-driven tourism strategies persist. Whilst numerous studies have emerged in North America (see Cooke, 2017; Fortin et al., 2021; Grimwood et al., 2019a, 2019b; Walter, 2023) and Australia (see Everingham et al., 2021; Wergin, 2017) that have theorised and contextualised how Western or Eurocentric settler colonialism legacies continue to disrupt and dispossess Indigenous societies, comparatively few have explored how non-Eurocentric forms of settler colonialism structures and systems oppress through tourism in the Asian context (see Bandyopadhyay & Yuwanond, 2018; Teo, 2008; Wijesinghe & Mura, 2018).

Therefore, it is critical to develop new insights into the ways non-Eurocentric settler colonialism is resisted and challenged by Indigenous communities, especially when acknowledging that due to the ‘multidimensionality of colonization’, there are many different forms for decolonizing, Indigenous resistance (Steinman, 2016 p. 225). As Bayat (2013, p. ix) reminds us, the ways in which in people resist and attempt to improve their lives are not limited to ‘mass protests or revolutions’ but through the actions of ordinary people performing ordinary acts in ordinary spaces. Here, he adds, dissent can be enacted through the assertion of presence by creating new opportunities in the spaces they belong. Indeed, as the acquisition of land often remains at the forefront of settler colonialist goals (Fortin et al., 2021), understanding how Indigenous communities ‘make space’ as tourism takes space, is of considerable importance, as are the ways they disrupt prevailing representations, and resist the use of tourism to inscribe non-Indigenous narratives in Indigenous landscapes (see Grimwood et al., 2019a). In summary, referring to the work of Grimwood et al. (2019a, p.235), how Indigenous tourism stakeholders in non-Eurocentric settler colonialism settings ‘present Indigenous destinations and identities in complex, multiple, and hybridized ways’ should now be interrogated further and in settings that contrast those found in the Global North.

Methodology

Research methods

Guided by an interpretivist paradigm, this study was designed to gain insights through semi-structured interviews from Jumma participants employed in the tourism industry. Interpretivist approaches are structured around the need to explore and make meaning of social actors’ lived experiences (Khazaei et al., 2017), and as suggested by Denzin (1989), these approaches help individuals share personal experiences and histories that may also be framed and contextualised in relation to the accounts of social groups or communities. We adopted a research approach that sought to explore the underlying feelings, assumptions, and beliefs of Jumma people that ‘do the work of tourism’ (Chen, 2017, p. 393) so that critical observations could be drawn. These, we argue, are critical not only in the context of tourism development but in tourism research where ‘settler stories infiltrate and proliferate’ (Grimwood et al., 2019b, p. 3). Moreover, echoing the recommendations of Wijesinghe and Mura (2018), we sought to share the knowledge and experiences of Asian scholars located in non-Western settings to challenge longstanding beliefs that Western knowledge remains ‘universal’.

Similar to the approach of Khazaei et al. (2017), this study engaged two different tourism stakeholder groups (owners and employees) so that phenomenon could be explored from different perspectives, and a more comprehensive understanding of tourism development in the CHT could be established. Whilst it was acknowledged that some tourism stakeholders may have embraced Western entrepreneurial ideals that could potentially clash with broader Indigenous values, their involvement in the industry can also address the wider socio-economic issues (such as poverty, inadequate access to healthcare and education, and unemployment) that have arisen or been intensified by settler colonialism.

A total of twenty tourism-focused businesses across two districts (Khagrachhari and Rangamati) that included accommodation providers, tour guides and travel agents, and prominent tourist attractions, were selected at random to participate and invited via an initial phone call conducted by the Indigenous member (and also lead author) of our research team. Phone calls enabled the co-author to verbally distil the purpose of the research and outline the intentions of our study.

Fourteen business owners agreed to participate (twelve male, two female) who were then followed up via email to share essential documents such as a formal letter of introduction, participation consent forms, and a written summary of the study that was available in English, Bengali and Kokborok (a common Jumma language). Thirteen employees from the twenty identified businesses also agreed to participate (all male) and printed copies of the research documents were provided if they had limited internet access.

Critically, the Indigenous researcher was on hand to verbally read the contents of the documents provided if the participant had limited literacy capabilities and was pivotal in decolonising the research process (Smith, 2012). As Smith (2012) underscores, as coproducers of locally relevant knowledge, Indigenous researchers are crucial to the process of knowledge production through their forming of questions, documentation, and analysis. Furthermore, interviews should ideally be undertaken by ‘Indigenous members of the research team, preferably from the participant community, to increase cultural appropriateness, and increase the likelihood of trust and acceptance by the community’ (Gorman & Toombs, 2009, p. 6). However, we also acknowledge that the lead Indigenous author was positioned as both emic and etic researcher (after Pike, 1954). That is, while the lead author’s emic position as an Indigenous member of the community aided in decolonising the research process, they equally acknowledged their etic standpoint as being partially trained from a Western academic lens. Thus, the primary author exercised prudence in acknowledging their responsibility as a researcher to the Jumma Peoples, recognising that their etic stance may impact how Jumma communities are ultimately portrayed. In this context, the author adhered to the guidance of Pike et al. (1990), who examine the extent to which a researcher can immerse themselves in the culture under examination, allowing them to merge their etic (outsider) viewpoint with the emic (insider) perspective of the culture being studied.

Semi-structured interviews were conducted by the Indigenous author in the language participants felt most comfortable conversing in. Again, the role of the Indigenous researcher afforded the research team ‘insider’ access due to their cultural familiarity (see Novelli et al., 2012) and reduced the likelihood of suspicion or the reluctance to share the full extent of their views (see Gorman & Toombs, 2009). Due to the impacts of COVID-19 in Bangladesh, and in the CHT region specifically, the research phase was intermittently conducted between November 2019 and October 2020.

It should be noted that this study was originally developed to explore holistic changes to community capitals in the CHT (see Butler et al., 2023). However, whilst our intentions to document the role of tourism development in fostering capital change and by extension - opportunities for reconciliation - in the region were pure, it was evident that our original study design was too restrictive and unable to capture the nuances of resistance to settler colonialism that are distilled in this research. As Grimwood et al. (2019b) remark, there remains a tendency for many Settler researchers to perpetuate ‘Settler fantasies’ that seek to construct and order knowledge in ways that they best comprehend. Therefore, we adjusted our epistemological position and added questions that were more explicit in their exploration of Indigenous notions of (in)stability and the challenges faced by tourism development. By pausing, listening, and reflecting upon initial conversations - and the ways narratives became ‘mobilized’ (see Grimwood et al., 2019b) - we enabled Indigenous actors to discuss themes and tell stories that were most important to them rather than impose upon them inflexible methodologies that are incapable of examining the covert ways in which tourism development remains problematic.

Analysis

Due to the decision to expand our lines of inquiry, our research yielded approximately 30 h of interview material that was initially transcribed into English. The research team acknowledges the epistemological and ontological challenges of text translation. However, meaning is ultimately ‘constructed in rather than expressed by language’ (Barrett, 1992, p. 203) and this is never a neutral exercise (Derrida, 1978; Foucault, 1989). Moreover, people using different languages may construct different ways of interpreting social life and thus, borrowing from Derrida (1978) and Foucault (1989), there is no single correct translation of a text; focus should rather lie in understanding the way language is tied to local realities (Simon, 1996). Interview translations from the Indigenous author therefore attempted to mitigate loss of semantic and discursive cues and aims to best represent these local realities and voices (Simon, 1996).

Following the recommendations of Nowell et al. (2017) on thematic analyses, after a period of reflection, transcribed interviews were assigned initial codes to phrases. Codes and themes entered were informed by their frequency, importance, and their relevance to the interview questions. After emergent themes were established, themes were reviewed and refined before consensus amongst all members of the research team was reached. In the context of this study, the Indigenous author was the primary decision-maker when assigning themes and codes in the analysis process. This approach acknowledged Grimwood et al. (2019b) assertion that more must be done to decolonise tourism studies not only by focusing on Indigenous viewpoints through research observations but via the inclusion of Indigenous authors as critical co-creators of tourism knowledge (see Chambers & Buzinde, 2015).

Findings

In the CHT, Indigenous tourism stakeholders have attempted to resist settler colonialism by developing informal leadership approaches that utilise ‘the socio-cultural, economic, and political forces of tourism’ (Grimwood et al., 2019a, p. 242). These approaches were often built around informal stakeholder networks that sought to incubate entrepreneurial activities, develop supply chains, and establish local pathways to stable employment. Crucially, our findings suggest that whilst tourism was undoubtedly used as subjugating force, it could also be used as a counterforce to mitigate many of the wider socio-economic challenges that have been produced or amplified by settler colonialism. Thus, we frame these actions as ‘disruptive responses’ to the use of tourism as a mechanism to acquire land and limit the development of social capital. In addition, Jumma tourism stakeholders produced ‘counter-narratives’ (see Wight, 2019) by acting as steadfast, cultural custodians that readdressed non-Indigenous tourists’ misconceptions about Indigeneity. These themes are now discussed in greater depth by sharing and contextualising key excerpts via participant pseudonyms.

Disruptive responses

Whilst conflict had nominally ended in the CHT, the development of tourism often exacerbated ethnic and political tensions as observed in studies elsewhere (see Buultjens et al., 2016; Causevic & Lynch, 2013; Naef & Ploner, 2016; Novelli et al., 2012). Local communities were suspicious of the government’s motives when new tourism developments were proposed, and repeated failures to communicate and disseminate information about the goals of tourism development further amplified concerns. It was suggested that absence of transparency represented a major obstacle - and perhaps even a substantial threat - to broader aspirations for reconciliation and peace in the region:

If [the national government] consider the needs of the local people and involve them in the development of tourism, [socio-economic] growth could be achieved in the right way … otherwise I cannot see positive changes … tourism might actually be an issue that causes further conflict in the near future. (Sumedh, owner, restaurant)

Due to the repeated failure to implement democratic processes and legal systems that recognised Indigenous rights, especially involving land, tourism development was positioned as a major impediment to building trust with government stakeholders. This was further underscored by reports of misleading or ambiguous promises by the government in their pursuit of Indigenous land that were typically framed as acts of economic progression:

Recently, the government decided to mark one area as a large tourist zone by acquiring over 200 acres of land … many [Indigenous] people were going to lose their land. I heard that the government would try to appease them by offering jobs, giving them land in other places or by building them new houses … but they did not discuss their plan in detail with the local people [so it quickly escalated concerns] … so everyone protested. (Ranjit, employee, tour company)

Thus, initial conversations about tourism development quickly became conversations about government attempts to acquire land and strip local communities of an important economic and cultural resource. However, although a range of considerable challenges undoubtedly persisted, our findings also revealed that some positive outcomes have been achieved through the ‘disruptive responses’ of Indigenous community members. These responses were initiated by small groups of Jumma tourism stakeholders that had formed unofficial community groups and networks. The rationale behind these groups entailed goals to harness tourism development for the benefit of Indigenous communities and to mitigate settler attempts to further marginalise them, particularly as further tourism development was considered ‘inevitable’.

Commendably, these groups had attempted to develop new tourism ventures and encourage an ‘entrepreneurial ethos’ (Novelli et al., 2012) between the different tribal communities within the Jumma peoples, some of whom were previously embroiled in internal disputes. More successful stakeholders also offered financial support to smaller businesses that could not access bank loans or other financial means. In short, Indigenous tourism networks offered solutions to the economic barriers and structures of settler colonialism that inhibited the development of Indigenous-owned enterprises:

A few tourism businesses are now being developed by small [informal] group initiatives … it is a good sign for us … recently a leader from the Mro [tribal group] community partnered with a Tripura [tribal group] member because they didn’t have enough money to build a resort alone. As a result, both [Mro and Tripura] communities now benefit simultaneously … we are now encouraging other [Indigenous] entrepreneurs to take similar initiatives. (Babul, owner, tour company)

Whilst Jumma owned or operated tourism businesses typically only employed a handful of people, participants shared stories of developing links with a range of supporting Jumma businesses, including local handicraft makers, fishermen and fruit farmers. In many ways, our observations were similar to what Bayat (2013) referred to as the ‘art of presence’ whereby everyday resistance can be enacted through the use of what limited resources are available to create new opportunities, legitimacy and increased ‘presence’ in the very spaces where people are sought to be removed from. By highlighting the value of the tourism industry in increasing demand in agricultural produce and demonstrating effective economic management through Indigenous enterprise, it was argued that there was now greater ‘buy in’ from a broader cross-section of local community members:

The fruit sellers from the village can now easily sell their fruit near tourist spots. In summer, a huge amount of coconut water is sold here. Coconuts sell out quickly … there is high demand for papaya, bananas, and lemons … Many people are now generating an income because of [Indigenous led] tourism (Gopal, owner, restaurant)

In Khagrachhari, the main economic source is selling agricultural goods … but now they can sell their vegetables, rice, and fruits quicker than before because many restaurants like ours purchase goods from them daily … local farmers are receiving [economic] benefits more regularly. (Dipu, owner, leisure park)

Consistent with other studies, these economic benefits were important pathways to healthcare for their families and relatives, as well as education opportunities for children or younger siblings (see Buultjens et al., 2016; Wondirad & Ewnetu, 2019):

I completed [high school] graduation whilst working in tourism … it supported me during my study … now I can help my younger brother and sisters in their education. I can also support my family with medical care. (Narayan, employee, hotel)

My plan is to educate my children so that they will be able to decide what they would like to do in the future … we have suffered a lot in our lives and could not own land or our own house … but now [because of stable employment in tourism], we have gradually built a home … we now expect better lives for our children. (Anjan, owner, tour company)

In other instances, it was reported that Indigenous tourism stakeholders used business income to support or ‘sponsor’ (Sunil, owner, hotel) Jumma students from remote villages that required jobs to cover their education costs. Once more, these findings reveal that tourism ventures were not only structured around economic gain but as mechanisms that could partially remedy social issues including limited access to education opportunities, healthcare, and home ownership:

[because of tourism income] we help the poor students of the village pay for their studies and distribute winter clothes to poor families. (Gopal, owner, restaurant)

Now [after the success of my business], I perform many responsibilities in society … Half of the profits from my business go to social work … I give shelter to many women who face social and family problems … this is possible due to income generated from my business … I also donated money elsewhere. (Siari, owner, souvenir shop)

In short, despite evidence of socio-economic marginalisation in the CHT, local tourism stakeholder networks demonstrated an ability to harness tourism to mitigate these processes and address prevalent social issues, namely limited community access to healthcare and education that settler colonialism structures had exacerbated.

Counter-narratives

It was observed that the mobilities of non-Indigenous (Bengali) tourists had helped pave the way for new non-Indigenous structures to develop and manifest even if many were considered unwitting accomplices. Bengali tourists often elected to use non-Indigenous tourism businesses that often propagated simplistic and occasionally inaccurate representations of Jumma cultures. Our discussions paralleled those of Grimwood et al. (2019a) who noted that tourism ‘disciplines visitors to perceive and experience indigeneity within specific spatial (“untouched” nature) and temporal (historic) registers, which operate to obscure and deem out-of-place contemporary Indigenous practices, meanings, and mobilities within a landscape’ (p. 235).

In response, Indigenous tourism stakeholders played a critical role in ensuring that stories and narratives of Indigenous cultures were accurately distilled. As reported by Kanchan, the owner of a local tour company, negative stereotypes of Indigenous people often persisted amongst Bengali tourists, and this was demonstrated by a story he relayed of two young children (aged 7–8 years) that refused to drink water given to them by an Indigenous employee because their parents had told them never to trust Jumma people. Thus, Indigenous tour guides played ‘a mediating role between tourists and locals’ (Leonard, 2011, p. 115) and not only dispelled negative perceptions but offered authentic cultural insights, including opportunities to share knowledge and grow understanding:

We can represent our cultures and lifestyles to other people. Many tourists come but do not have a clear idea about our cultures. We try our best to inform and show them our ways. (Kolpo, employee, tour company)

When tourists visit there is a chance to share our views with each other. Many [non-Indigenous] people have incorrect perceptions towards us … [now] there is a chance to grow good perceptions … it may help improve the [political] situation of the region. (Uttam, employee, tour company)

Indeed, ‘lived resistance’ (Steinman, 2016) was performed as Indigenous actors regenerated Indigeneity through daily actions that involved the sharing of stories and acts of generosity that helped reject and reshape settler notions of Jumma people. Moreover, these actions underscore how the formation of counter-narratives allow Indigenous groups to enact resistance by reclaiming ‘cultural power’ and deconstruct government-driven misrepresentations of Indigeneity (Bandyopadhyay & Yuwanond, 2018, p. 170), especially through new tourism ventures:

We decided to promote responsible tourism … our culture, traditions as well as the environment should be prioritised. We sat and talked to village people to involve them … we talked to old and young people to understand their feelings and attitudes towards tourists … during a further visit we shared our plans and goals. In such a way we started [Indigenous-led] community tourism … a few [non-Indigenous] tourists who were interested in meeting the villagers participated in shifting cultivation known as ‘jhum’ [a slash-and-burn farming method], made local cakes with women, and caught fish at a small river where they shared food and talked … we helped the villagers to learn [about the positive role of tourism in changing perceptions of Indigenous people]. (Babul, owner, tour company)

These developments were important steps when noting that non-Indigenous tour guides were now operating in the CHT and utilising tourism to ‘normalize and justify’ their own place in the region by acting as unauthorised custodians (see Grimwood et al., 2019a):

Non-Indigenous guides do not provide accurate information when leading tourists [through the CHT] … we know very well the history and background of land … and we try our best to give them [tourists] authentic information. (Babul, owner, tour company)

Non-Indigenous guides often propagated fallacies surrounding land rights and oppressive activities, an issue that was compounded by Koleth’s (2014) assertion that ‘tourists are often ignorant of the larger context of oppression and land acquisition, which underlies the creation of the sites that they visit’ (p. 684). Consequently, many non-Indigenous tourists were reportedly unaware of the meanings and values Indigenous communities attributed to their lands. Therefore, tourism was additionally utilised as a powerful vehicle to inform and recalibrate non-Indigenous perspectives about the significance of their land and cultures:

We tell them [tourists] that our strength is our cultural resources … we are home to around eleven to thirteen [Indigenous] groups that live in the region … this is a land of diversity. Our diversity also includes different languages, foods, traditions … our lands, and what they mean, are unique. (Kanchan, owner, tour company)

Thus, despite the absence of formal structures and tourism strategies in the CHT region, Indigenous tourism stakeholders created counter-narratives to simultaneously preserve cultural traditions and challenge negative representations of Indigeneity.

Discussion

The current situation in the CHT reveals that despite the continuation of many challenges, there have been benefits for some community members. What is remarkable about tourism development in the CHT is that it has prospered (relatively speaking) under the informal management of the Jumma people who remain amongst the country’s most socio-economically disadvantaged. Indeed, Jumma communities must constantly negotiate the economic, cultural, and political legacies of regional conflict that have served as major impediments to successful, and sustainable, tourism development in regions elsewhere (see Buultjens et al., 2016; Causevic & Lynch, 2013; Naef & Ploner, 2016; Novelli et al., 2012). Rather commendably, Indigenous tourism stakeholders found ways to use tourism as a form of resistance to settler colonialism by developing local tourism economies that supported quests for self-sufficiency and counteracted nefarious, state-driven acts to displace local communities and entrench socio-economic inequalities. Several of the activities identified in our study mirrored the observations of Bayat (2013, p. 15), who argued that the ‘fragmented’ actions and behaviours of ordinary people could still foster social change even if they were not guided by ideologies or recognised leadership groups. Acknowledging Regan’s (2010) work, Grimwood et al. (2019b) remind us that ‘if settler colonialism is about taking space from Indigenous peoples, unsettling settler colonialism must be about making space’ (p. 245). In our study, Indigenous groups attempted to resist the acquisition of space by reinforcing the values, narratives, and meanings they applied to these spaces through tourism. This approach was essential when considering that contemporary tourism development in the CHT mirrors the ‘monocultural’ and ‘monological’ approaches in other settings where settler colonialism attempts, in both covert and systematic ways, to dismantle the cultures and histories of Indigenous communities (see Everingham et al., 2021). However, the proliferation of domestic non-Indigenous tourist mobilities present a considerable paradox. Whilst tourism brings economic opportunity for some members of Indigenous communities it also amplifies competition for resources and the risks of land acquisition. At the heart of many Indigenous stories in this study were fears that tourism will continue to be used as a vehicle to erase Indigenous lands of their ‘agencies, stories and lifeways’ (Fortin et al., 2021, p. 1).

Although the acts of the state government remained at the forefront of discussions surrounding tourism development challenges, reported issues and failings extended to local Indigenous leaders (typically referred to as ‘headmen’) who lacked the knowledge or capacity to represent their communities in response to tourism development. These findings echo those of Causevic and Lynch (2013) who identified that political structures or systems, notably those that include ruling elites, can act as significant barriers to positive change. Whilst Causevic and Lynch (2013) framed these issues in relation to bureaucratic traditions or those unwilling to cede power, our observations reveal that community leaders’ limited knowledge of tourism meant that could not guide their communities when the problematic spectres of tourism development proposals emerged. Opportunities to mobilise key stakeholders and lead public forums to canvass community opinions and concerns were infrequently initiated, and consequently, Indigenous oppositions to the velocities and trajectories of tourism development in the CHT were often compromised.

It should be additionally noted that the informal nature of tourism leadership in the CHT meant that opportunities to support local people and businesses were only sporadically realised. Whilst many local business owners revealed a genuine intent to support communities, they often remained the key beneficiaries of tourism development due to pre-existing power and influence in the community because of their comparative wealth. In short, tourism could benefit many community members, but it often benefited those that were already far better off the most. Our observations mirror those of Novelli et al. (2012, p. 1448) who warn that tourism development remains an ‘illusion’ and cannot be positioned as a panacea to the problems encountered by developing regions where competition for resources persist. This is especially the case in settings like the CHT where the forces of settler colonialism continue to manifest aggressively in the name of tourism and economic development, and paradoxically stabilises and destabilises the region simultaneously. Thus, consistent with other studies that examined the genesis of tourism in post-conflict settings, our study reveals that a sustainable tourism economy that meets the needs of all actors in the CHT is highly unlikely, particularly as fears surrounding the implications of tourism development reverberate strongly throughout Indigenous communities.

Conclusions

This study has distilled the challenges ‘post-conflict’ tourism in the CHT continues to produce. It also underscores the complex structures and systems of non-Eurocentric settler colonialism that must be continuously navigated by Indigenous communities in geographies that have remained underexplored. In particular, this paper sheds light on the disruptive, counter-representations developed by Jumma communities, who despite their absence from development discourse, have initiated critical informal leadership approaches. These strategies were observed to enhance Indigenous stakeholder cohesion, foster the expansion of supply chains, and provide stable employment opportunities that also increased access to education and healthcare. Therefore, Jumma tourism stakeholders were discovered to be crucial actors that proactively helped address the significant socio-economic challenges communities faced. However, despite these positive observations, highly problematic political ideologies and the continuation of asymmetrical power relations between the Bangladeshi government and Jumma people continue to entrench socio-political inequality. In the context of this research, these political ideologies have been enforced by a relatively new nation state that is barely half a century old, and therefore offer alternative perspectives in settler colonialism discourse that have predominantly explored scenarios in Canada, the United States, Australia, or New Zealand. Whilst tourism development in Bangladesh remains entangled with the legacies of British imperialism, our study reveals the inherent dangers of emergent forms of settler colonialism that are not directly linked to European values or ‘white supremacy’ (see Cox, 2017).

By giving Indigenous voices critical agency—both through authorship and as participants—this study reveals how tourism acts as a coercive force in the region and amplifies the myriad of challenges many communities continue to face. Nevertheless, it has been a steep learning curve for all involved. As outlined in our methodology, this study undoubtedly unsettled the authorities of the non-Indigenous researchers that co-authored this paper. Whilst our original research design provided some useful, holistic observations about tourism development, we also acknowledge that our original approach was limited. Moreover, we were exposed to the discomforts of ‘not knowing’ and the uncomfortable truths of the issues and challenges distilled by participants—including stories of hurt, fear, and violence that many tourism researchers are rarely exposed to.

In summary, our paper contributes theoretically to wider debates in postcolonial studies, most notably Spivak’s (1987) writing on subalternity and the ethics of representation in relation to the ‘hyper-self-reflexivity’ of the authors and subjects involved (Griffiths, 2018). Our study also provides an intervention into spaces of power for those people that are both marginalised and enabled by tourism. Thus, in line with Coombes et al. (2014) we sought to develop collaborative research that builds Indigenous researcher knowledges and provides a platform for the Indigenous leadership of cross-cultural teams that move beyond insider/outsider configurations. This, of course, is only a small step forward, but it reiterates the value and ethical importance of exploring unsettling tourism development narratives and asking uncomfortable questions of ourselves as Settler tourism researchers.

Additional information

This project received ethics approval from Flinders University’s Social and Behavioural Research Ethics Committee (Project #8410).

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Khokaneswar Tripura

Khokaneswar Tripura is a Lecturer in Tourism and Hospitality. His research interests include sustainable tourism development, Indigenous engagement through tourism, and the role of innovative technologies in Bangladeshi’s emerging tourism economy.

Gareth Butler

Gareth Butler, Ph.D. is a Senior Lecturer in Tourism and Events with a background in human geography. His research interests include sustainable tourism development, community engagement strategies, and tourist mobilities.

Gerti Szili

Gerti Szili, Ph.D. is a Lecturer in Human Geographer with a background in urban and regional planning, environmental studies and anthropology. Her core research interests lie in investigating urban and regional regeneration practice and governance and critiquing the various ways environmental discourses are mobilised within landscapes in transition.

Kevin Hannam

Kevin Hannam, Ph.D. Kevin Hannam is a Researcher at the University of Saint Joseph, Macau SAR, China. He is also a Visiting Professor at Nebrija University, Spain, the University of Johannesburg, South Africa and T HEI, Hong Kong SAR, China. His research interests include ecotourism, Third World tourism, European cultural and heritage tourism, and tourism theory.