Surf Simply Magazine

More than a “leisure-activity-slash-lifestyle”, surfing carries with it the power to shape communities, forge connections, and transform landscapes. These are the underlying elements that define our surf culture; these are the pillars of our surf history. Many surf destinations stand as a testament to this notion, but few reveal such a compelling interplay of political, economic, and cultural dynamics as Nicaragua.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity, Dr Jason Old, a surfer and historian of twentieth- and twenty-first-century US and Latin American history, used his PhD dissertation as a channel to unpack the aforementioned interplay. Having originally contemplated writing on the Cuban or Nicaraguan revolution, Jason decided to zero in on the history of surfing in Nicaragua after his committee chair put the idea forth. “She suggested choosing a topic that very few people have written on,” he says. “Besides, I'd been going back and forth to Nicaragua since 2004; it's a country that I consider home.” The result was 

The Politics of Waves: A Transnational and Cultural Surfing History of Popoyo, Nicaragua

 — what is now one of the first documented surf histories of Nicaragua.

During his research, Jason became aware of the profound impact of the United States' relations with Nicaragua on the birth and growth of surfing in the country; he went on to dissect the intricate web of connections between these two nations, as well as shine a light on the complex socio-cultural transformation that occurred as a result of surfing's introduction to the indigenous communities of southwestern Nicaragua. More broadly, though, Jason used the case of Nicaragua as a springboard to emphasise the importance of making historical information more accessible to the average surfer, in the hope that, by bridging the gap between academia and the surfing community, we can help promote respect, cultural exchange, and responsible tourism practices, therefore fostering meaningful connections and enriching experiences both in and out of the water.

Surf Simply caught up with Jason to hear more about the surprising discoveries he made during his research, as well as discuss the impacts of surfers and surfing culture on coastal communities, the challenges arising from the rapid growth of surf tourism, and the responsibilities of surf tourists in understanding the past and engaging with local cultures. [Editor’s Note: Readers who wish to get a bit more context on the topic are encouraged to read Jason’s latest paper 

The first thing that struck me about your study was how the relations between the US and Nicaragua had a fundamental impact on the birth of surfing in the country. This influence is something I noticed when I travelled there in 2013, not only in the local surf scene but in an explicit wish to “Americanise,” almost to the point of idolising the US in my opinion. Indeed, in the paper you emphasise that “[s]urfing, therefore, serves as the lens through which to analyze US political, economic, and cultural penetration in Nicaragua.” We’ll touch on this subject again later, but could you please provide an initial comment on these relations?


Spending time in Nicaragua and having Nicaraguan friends, I was kind of shocked to learn how far back the history between the USA and Nicaragua dates. One of the things I found most striking was the fact that in the 1850s Nicaragua had an American president, William Walker; this was during the filibuster era, so Walker and his private army essentially took over Nicaragua. Another factor that contributes to this long history concerns the initial plans to build what is now the Panama Canal in Nicaragua. Also, one of the longest US occupations of any country is Nicaragua — from roughly 1912 to 1933. One more aspect of our involvement has to do with what happened after 1933 — roughly 1933 to 1979 — when the USA bolstered a family dictatorship, the Somoza dynasty. Then, the US gets involved to depose the successful Sandinista Revolution, with the US-backed counterinsurgency becoming known as the Contra War (during the 1980s). And then the candidate who won, Violetta Chamorro, embraced the neoliberal economic model of the Washington Consensus. So yes, there's a really long history of relations between both countries. I always say that Nicaragua has been in the political and economic crosshairs of the USA for well over a century and a half.

At the beginning of the dissertation you share an anecdote about Guillermo, which ends with “The land on Guasacate Hill, once redistributed to Guillermo and other campesinos, was now owned by foreigners and subsequently nicknamed “Gringo Hill,” touches on the duality of surf development in developing countries: on the one hand, foreign surfers could be said to take advantage of locals, on the other, the rise of a local surf culture and surf tourism industry comes to benefit locals who, prior to this contact, had narrower options in terms of lifestyle. I was wondering if you could give us your opinion on this dynamic as it’s not endemic to Popoyo and it’s certainly an issue that is gaining more and more attention nowadays.


I think somewhere in the introduction I emphasise that the anecdote is not necessarily unique to Nicaragua. Indeed, Nicaragua is very much a case study of what many people refer to as “surf settler colonialism”, this phenomenon of essentially colonising a coastal area because of the ideal surfing conditions and inexpensive land. You see that in other parts of the world as well. You see that in post-conflict El Salvador, and, of course, in Costa Rica this happened much earlier and there are scholars who write on that. You have places like Bali where this is taking place as well. In the end, it’s a phenomenon that has a lot of nuances to it.

Lindsay Usher, who's a tourism scholar, has written a great article on the local perception in Las Salinas in Nicaragua with regard to the radical cultural and economic transformations that took place as a result of the introduction of surfing and the new surf tourism economy. In her research, if you were to put it on a scale, you'd see maybe it is slightly more in favour of positive than negative. But yes, the repercussions of this influx of foreigners are extremely nuanced. You see these individuals who had land, that then decide to sell it for one reason or another because for them it was just extra money, and then with the introduction of surf tourism, land skyrockets, leaving them somewhat landless and forced to adapt to a new economic model, that is, surf tourism. In the end, though, I would say that it's another example of this phenomenon — and Popoyo provides a perfect case study for that. In fact, I get people that ask me all the time, "Don't you think surf tourism in Nicaragua is good?" and my answer is always "It's positive and negative." In this dissertation, I do my best to provide a sort of balance sheet of those nuances.

You reviewed a lot of literature for this dissertation. In your opinion, what was the most surprising and/or interesting piece of information you came across?


Yes, there was so much literature to read and compile and synthesise! There were two main things — one surprising and one interesting. The surprising one is linked to the fact that I went into this project somewhat naive when it comes to just how political everything was at the coast, especially concerning the land, with land grabs, agrarian reforms, presidents buying land… I just wasn't expecting it to be so political. The thing that I found interesting was kind of along those same lines but more specifically regarding land tenure and land rights. It was intriguing to learn how the land was used during the Somoza-era, as it was a coastal periphery that provided ideal land for raising cattle and the agro-industry; then, with the agrarian reform, how it was handed over to the local community to use for state-run enterprises and cooperatives; and then, following the political changes that began in 1990, how the Sandinistas legislated laws during the lame duck period after losing the elections that effectively handed over the properties that locals were using and gave them titled lands, which eventually convoluted the process of purchasing private property, something that started to take place under the new neoliberal governments, beginning with Violetta Chamorro. I reckon this was the most interesting thing for me because I didn't know much about it, and then it ended up becoming a huge piece of this dissertation.

Referring to the neoliberal policies implemented by Nicaragua’s president in 1990, Violeta Chamorro, you write: “These policies and affordable land, together with the uncrowded, world-class waves, directly contributed to the growth and development of international surf communities.” Besides the aforementioned, what do you think makes Popoyo and the Tola Municipality so attractive to foreign surfers? Is there something else that makes this region special?


For me, the two main factors were indeed an environment conducive to purchasing private property and a place with incredible waves. I guess if I were to add another thing, and I actually mention this in the chapter, it would be overcrowding in Costa Rica as a result of the surf tourism industry there that had been growing considerably. Linked to that is the fact that later on, in the 2000s already, Costa Rica started dropping some of their incentives for expats, whereas Nicaragua begins to increasingly incentivise foreigners to move there.

Another line from the introduction that stood out to me was “Nicaragua’s complex history of relations with the United States is surprisingly unknown to a large percentage of the American public.” This made me think of other surf spots out there that might have had a similar, complex history of relations with a larger, more developed country but that people don’t know about. I was wondering if you could talk a bit about how making this kind of historical information more readily available to the general public — particularly surfers — can benefit both surf tourists and surf destinations.


I think this dissertation, and my project, surfinghistorian.com, are an attempt to do exactly what you're asking me about; they’re an attempt to take this amazing scholarship that's written in a way that non-academics may find daunting and make it accessible. Another good example of this “translation” is a book by historian Scott Laderman, Empire In Waves. He writes on South Africa, among other places, and how apartheid limited dark-skinned surfers (including visiting Hawaiians) access to whites-only beaches; he also looks at surfing against the backdrop of the genocidal Suharto regime in Indonesia. So yes, no doubt there is a good amount of literature out there, but I think that sharing this information through the lens of surfing makes very complex topics around foreign policy and land reform, for instance, a lot more accessible in a way that surfers can understand and appreciate. Because, in the end, surfing is a sport but also, in a sense, a language. So getting this knowledge beyond the academic world and into surf camps and coffee shops, places like, let's say, the Popoyo area or San Juan del Sur, in Nicaragua, for example, where surfers are sitting there drinking coffee and reading books. And I think that’s important because in the case of Nicaragua, El Salvador, Costa Rica, Bali, for instance, any of these surf destinations that have been essentially colonised by foreigners, it'd be good to help foreigners see a bigger picture. Not to discourage anybody from travelling to surf by any stretch, but to make them more cognizant of the (unseen) impacts. Because I reckon that many surfers want to leave feeling like they left the place the way they found it. And I guess that adding to travelling surfers’ understanding of the footprint we're leaving on the planet will make them think twice about some of the things they do and the ways they go about doing it. How that will play out, I'm not entirely sure. But I believe that broadening people’s understanding of the local and historical context of some of these places creates the opportunity for a more profound understanding of the people, which helps you recognise that we're all equal, which consequently promotes a notion of respect — both inside the water and on land. Hopefully, that can allow surfers to become even better global citizens and stewards of the environment.

Similarly, in your opinion, what are the roles/responsibilities of surfers — and particularly surf tourists — to “dig into the past”?


I guess I should start by saying that I don’t actually believe there’s a moral obligation for any surfer to “dig into the past” of the place they are travelling to. Perhaps my point can be better explained through a concept I came up with a few years ago; I call it “anthrotourism” — a combination of anthropology and tourism. Somebody who engages in anthrotourism is, therefore, an “anthrotourist”; that is, an individual who makes a conscious or concerted effort to understand the local cultural and historical context he/she is travelling in as a visitor. In my opinion, a lot of surfers that go on a surf trip just want to go surfing and get away. And that’s fine. But I'd say it's in their best interest to learn a little bit about the place they're visiting, or at least be curious about the lives of the people around them whenever they are travelling. And the reason why I think this is a good idea is because I believe that knowing at least a little about the local culture and history provides an avenue to connect with people from that area. For me, it's all about what can I do, as a visitor, to try to build relations and connect with people on their level, on the things that they enjoy, as opposed to imposing my viewpoints. In the case of Nicaragua, for instance, a place I've been going to for almost two decades, there are people there who are like family; I look forward to seeing them when I'm there; it feels like home. And all that comes from an initial attempt to learn and connect.

You mention that the arrival of surfers in southwestern Nicaragua had a profound sociocultural and economic transformation on historically indigenous communities, and that the growth of surf tourism affected the economic landscape of the Popoyo area and the Tola Municipality. Could you please discuss the specific changes and impacts brought about by the surfers and surfing culture in these coastal pueblos? For example, what were the most notable cultural exchanges or interactions between the local communities and the surfers, and how did the indigenous culture and traditions adapt to the influx of foreign influences brought by surf tourism? What were the key changes in terms of infrastructure, job opportunities, and local businesses? And what were some of the challenges or conflicts that arose as a result of the rapid growth of surf tourism and the integration of expatriate communities?


The first thing to take into account is that the Tola Municipality is a highly indigenous area; the people there, particularly in the town of Las Salinas de Nahualapa, which is about 2km inland from Popoyo, are descendants of the Nahua-speaking central Mexicans. This means they have their own set of traditional norms, which, when compared to the surf culture, is quite conservative. And even though these cultures have a long history of being at the beach — they fish, they have myths about the coast, they have a very intimate connection to the ocean – surf culture did butt heads with the traditional culture. So while surfing has proliferated and become popular, there are still people from the older generation who see it as a complete waste of time or a distraction away from working and being “productive”.

As far as changes go, perhaps the most obvious one is what kids wear and how they behave. They are wearing surf brands, you see them giving the shaka, they have fully embraced the surfing look. In fact, they have not only embraced the surfing look but many have taken advantage of their proficiency on the waves to become surf instructors, surf photographers, surfboard shapers... As I write in the dissertation, the emergence of this “surf economy” has created a demand for these new types of jobs. Another key positive point relates to the fact that young girls are now getting into surfing. When they started to get interested in the sport, they were met with pushback because, in their culture, that just seemed like a guy’s thing to do. Fortunately, that started changing about a decade or so ago, and there’s even a non-profit that's using surfing to empower women. Still, I do think that the indigenous community still grapples with this change in a number of ways. And an example of that, which could be seen as a negative change prompted by the arrival of surf culture, is the undermining of the social dynamic in the region. For instance, nowadays young locals may see an expat as a better catch than the local counterpart, and this change to the social strata can be seen as undermining the original communal fabric and traditions.

Infrastructure-wise, the opening of the Popoyo Surf Lodge in 1999, the first all-inclusive surf camp in all of Nicaragua, set forth a bunch of changes. In around 2000, President Arnoldo Aleman decided to build a bridge to connect Las Salinas to the beach; it goes over the Nahualapa River, so people didn’t have to wait for the river to go down to cross. Another infrastructure project Aleman did, which just so happened to benefit his party, as well as the Popoyo Surf Lodge, was the bulldozing of some of the surrounding mangroves to make a road out to the peninsula of Playa Guasacate, ending at the river, which is now called La Bocana. One repercussion of this project is that it created new land by destroying the mangroves on the Guasacate Peninsula, and with that, two local restaurants initially cropped up; they were run by locals and were some of the first to accommodate a new influx of backpacking surfers that didn't stay at the surf camps. From then on, things started to slowly grow along that road: a couple more local restaurants showed up, and then, as more ex-pats came in, you started to see more expat businesses, more restaurants, more surf camps… And as all that begins to grow, the locals start to get brought into that orbit and end up getting jobs that, in one way or another, cater to the surf tourism industry. It's still very much lopsided in terms of expat businesses versus local businesses, but a lot of the local ones that continue to crop up are certainly catering to this surf tourism industry.

“I argue that the convergence of political and economic policies adopted by the Violeta Chamorro administration, starting in 1990, created a favourable environment for the arrival of foreign surfers. Furthermore, the creation of Law 127 in 1991 under Chamorro had a direct and undeniable impact on the inception of surf tourism.” Do you know of, or did you come across any other places in the world where the birth of surfing and the development of surf tourism were so directly affected by political and economic reforms?


There are probably a number of examples, but the one that comes to mind that I believe resembles Nicaragua the most is El Salvador. They both began solidifying a surf culture and embracing surf tourism at around the same time: Nicaragua's conflict ends in 1990 with the election of Chamorro; in El Salvador, it ends in 1992 with the Peace Accords. So both places essentially come into the orbit of the global post-Cold War Capitalist economic order, and the convergence of political and economic policies you saw in Nicaragua, you also saw in El Salvador. Likewise, the growth you're now seeing in Nicaragua, you also find in El Salvador, in spots like El Tunco or 

You write that “[t]his dissertation contributes to the domestic and international history of Nicaragua by tracing the arrival of foreign surfers to the southwestern coast of Nicaragua in the 1990s, situating the phenomenon within the long history of transnational engagement between the United States and Nicaragua,” and also that “it contributes to a growing body of literature on the history of sports.” What does this contribution mean to you as a surfer and scholar?


I'm really grateful to have had the opportunity to make this contribution. I'm very grateful to have been able to spend time in Nicaragua and to have gained the trust of the people to share their stories. I always make the joke that I was never good enough to be a pro surfer so I had to figure out a bit of a backdoor that would keep me around the waves and help me make a living — and being a surfing historian seemed like the most viable path forward. I'm also very grateful to be able to contribute this story to the world of surfing; it shines a light on yet another place where the phenomenon of surf settler colonialism has unfolded, and it adds to the broader conversation about the positive and negative impacts associated with surf tourism. Also, I take great pride that this is something I know really really well, and I'm stoked that people may think of reaching out to me when they have questions about surfing in Nicaragua. Finally, both this research and my project surfinghistorian.com have provided me with a platform to, as a scholar and a surfer, share surf histories with people who are interested but wouldn't necessarily stumble upon this kind of information. When it comes to dissertations, there's the joke that the only people that read them are your committee members. So the fact that scholars and non-scholars are reading this also helps me realise how worthy some of the struggles were. It's out there now, and I'm really stoked.

Along those lines, how has this research changed you as a surfer and surf tourist?


Professionally, having a PhD and writing on what I did puts me into this emerging field of critical surf studies, in an arena with a small cohort of people doing similar research in their respective areas, and, therefore, allows me to be a bit of an authority on the topic. As a surfer, I don't think it has changed me. Maybe I’ve gotten better because, as I was doing the research, I was living in Nicaragua and surfing every day. As a surf tourist, I think one of the things I learned over the last few years of being involved in this surf studies world, is that there are a lot of amazing people out there advocating for a better way of doing surfing and surf travel, trying to figure out ways lessen our footprint as we go around the world. I think being around people who are advocating for a better approach to surfing has made me more aware, and learning from them has also made me a more conscientious traveller, more mindful of the footprint I leave on the planet.

How do you see Popoyo and the local surf culture developing in the future?


I used Richard Butler's Tourism Area Life Cycle (TALC) to frame the whole dissertation, but in the end, I took it out. A lot of people in the field of tourism studies consider this an antiquated model for analysing tourism, and although he doesn’t look at surfing specifically, I think it works really well in answering your question. The idea is that a tourism area develops through six different stages: the first stage would be exploring the region, then they start getting involved with the area through the purchasing of property, then it develops and eventually consolidates into a well-defined tourism space, then you get to a point where you have stagnation, and then you have either decline or rejuvenation. With that in mind, I see Popoyo is still in the development and consolidation phase, and it will continue to grow — especially considering that for many it's still new. But I think that it'll reach its carrying capacity in the water because it's an A-frame break; there are other breaks around but I do think eventually it might get too crowded the same way Costa Rica did. And then perhaps localism will increase and this could deter people.

Looking on the bright side, I believe that, as surfing develops in the region, there will be more and more incredible surfers coming out of that area and taking to the world stage. This is a place where waves are plentiful; it’s one of the most consistent places I've lived and surfed in the world. Besides, as a result of this tourism, locals now have access to good surfing equipment, so they can ride these world-class waves with amazing equipment. In short, surfing in the local culture will continue to grow. And it's my hope that they'll be able to, through this, pick up sponsors, and see surfing — something they love and are good at — as a viable option for social mobility, and to be able to make a living and take care of their families through doing something they love. And I believe that's very much within their grasp.

The author and Surf Simply would like to thank Dr Jason Old for his assistance with the article. Check out Jason’s project, 

, for a series of enlightening and thought-provoking podcast interviews with other fellow surf scholars and researchers.

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