Coastal Communities Hold the Key to a $2.6 Trillion Blue Economy: What the Mombasa Conference Revealed

Mombasa, Kenya, MMN Correspondent: When global leaders gathered on the shores of the Indian Ocean for the 11th Our Ocean Conference, the air buzzed with ambition. Billions of dollars in new commitments were announced. Offshore wind farms, sustainable fisheries, and ocean carbon projects promised a future where economic growth and environmental health go hand in hand. But as the applause faded, a quieter, more urgent conversation emerged: who actually gets to shape this blue revolution?

The blue economy is no longer a fringe idea. According to the OECD, its value has doubled from $1.3 trillion in 1995 to $2.6 trillion in 2020, with projections suggesting it could quadruple by 2050. That kind of growth attracts attention. At the Mombasa conference alone, $6.4 billion was pledged across sectors. The largest chunk, $2.86 billion, went to sustainable blue economy initiatives. Another $1.75 billion targeted sustainable fisheries, and $1.18 billion was earmarked for ocean climate action. These numbers signal a global shift: oceans are now central to both prosperity and planetary stability.

Yet behind the headlines, a pattern repeats. Coastal communities, the very people who have lived alongside the sea for generations, often learn about major projects only after decisions have been made. Neville van Rooy of The Green Connection in South Africa put it plainly: “Communities need to be taken seriously. Just because they are struggling does not mean they lack vision.” His words echo a deeper truth. Inclusivity isn’t just a nice idea. It’s a practical necessity for long term success.

Consider the Lamu Port project in Kenya. Planned in a fragile coastal zone and a UNESCO World Heritage site, it faced fierce opposition from residents and environmental advocates. Critics pointed to inadequate public consultation, threats to traditional fishing grounds, and risks to cultural heritage. In 2019, Kenya’s National Environment Tribunal revoked the project’s environmental license due to flawed assessments and insufficient community engagement. The courts later upheld that decision. It was a clear reminder that transparency and participation aren’t optional. They are legal and ethical requirements.

Farida Aliwa, executive director of Natural Justice, highlighted another layer. Even well intentioned projects can miss the mark. She pointed to blue carbon initiatives where local communities were asked to plant mangroves or monitor seagrass beds but had no say over carbon revenue distribution or long term management. “They provided labor and knowledge, but outside developers retained control,” she noted. “This isn’t just inequity. It’s a violation of rights.”

The same dynamic plays out in offshore wind and marine protected areas. When planned without community input, these projects can disrupt small scale fishers’ access to traditional grounds and displace livelihoods. The solution isn’t to abandon these initiatives. It’s to integrate local knowledge from the start. A promising model emerged in 2020 when 14 countries, including Australia, Chile, and Kenya, launched a joint initiative to co develop sustainable ocean plans with coastal communities. By embedding indigenous and local expertise into national strategies, these nations aim to align development with both ecological integrity and social equity.

Of course, contradictions remain. Some of the same countries pushing for sustainable ocean plans continue to pursue new offshore oil and gas exploration. Environmental NGOs have documented how fossil fuel expansion undermines climate goals and threatens marine biodiversity hotspots. As the world transitions to renewable energy, ensuring that shift is just and inclusive is paramount.

Legal frameworks across Africa are evolving to address these challenges. Strategic litigation is increasingly used to hold governments accountable for environmental and human rights violations linked to ocean projects. Court rulings on environmental impact assessments and licensing decisions are empowering communities to defend their rights. Still, civic space for environmental defenders continues to shrink in many regions. Activists face harassment, legal intimidation, and restrictions on protest. Without strong protections and participatory governance, even the most well funded blue economy initiatives risk deepening inequality.

Cynthia Barzuna of the World Resources Institute emphasized that involving communities in planning, not just consultation, is essential. “Once people are part of designing, implementing, and monitoring sustainable ocean plans, we move from top down mandates to shared stewardship,” she said.

Looking ahead, the success of the blue economy won’t be measured solely by investment volume or GDP contribution. It will be measured by whether coastal populations, especially Indigenous peoples and small scale fishers, see tangible improvements in their lives, livelihoods, and sovereignty over their marine environments. As global momentum builds around ocean based solutions, one truth stands out: sustainability without inclusion is unsustainable. The ocean’s future depends not just on technology and finance, but on justice, transparency, and respect for those who have lived alongside the sea for generations. The time has come to ensure that the blue economy doesn’t leave anyone behind, but lifts everyone up.