Earlier this year, I holidayed in Portugal’s Alentejo region, near the border with Spain. In a small local bar, we ordered three Sagres beers, one bottled water, and one coffee with milk. The barman brought our drinks to the table—it was sunny, we were seated outside—and the total bill came to €6.50, or about £5.50 in Jersey money. On returning home, I priced a similar round: £21.35.
Recently, I’ve been re-reading Colin Powell’s 1970 publication Economic Analysis of Jersey. Back then, tourism was the dominant industry. Finance was emerging from a low base, and agriculture held significant weight.
Many will remember the cheap alcohol of the 1970s and the influx of tourists who visited Jersey for an affordable holiday—no passport required. Many arrived via the British Rail mail boat on discounted fares. Air travel to destinations like Spain and Italy remained largely the preserve of the wealthy.
Rather than lament price differences for drinks, let’s consider the environment that allows a bar to sell three beers, coffee, and water for £5.50—and still turn a profit. I couldn’t access specific Alentejo data, so I’ve used the average Portuguese salary in 2025. After deductions, workers typically earn around £780 per month or £9,360 annually. A modern two-bedroom apartment in the town we stayed in costs about £630 per month to rent. A three-bedroom house can be purchased for £125,000. That might sound reasonable, but it’s still nearly 14 times the average net income, and 9.5 times gross pay. Locals express concern about affordability and rising housing costs due to wealthy outsiders purchasing second homes. Sound familiar?
In 1970s Jersey, regulation was minimal, taxation was low, and there was a supply of inexpensive, flexible labour. As finance grew and generated wealth, wages and property prices soared. Employment legislation increased costs and reduced flexibility for businesses. Inevitably, Jersey became expensive. Low-cost flights to cheaper, sunnier destinations hastened the decline of its tourism sector. Those boom days aren’t returning unless everyone is willing to take a significant cut in wealth.
The collapse of tourism was an economic inevitability. When land, housing, and labour are limited, and one sector drives up costs and tax revenues, industries reliant on value pricing—like tourism—are destined to decline. It didn’t matter which politicians were elected. As government expanded and labour laws stiffened, seasonal businesses lost the agility they once relied on.
It’s important to distinguish tourism from hospitality. Though they overlap, Jersey’s hospitality sector has thrived by serving the affluent finance sector. Its clientele is increasingly local, not tourist-driven. The long-term trend was unchangeable, and yet we still spend taxpayer money trying to defy it—a logic worthy of King Canute. Reviving old TV shows like Bergerac won’t resurrect a vanished era.
About 25 years ago, I listened to a BBC Radio 4 program where three retired senior UK politicians—one from each major party—were asked if they’d made meaningful change. All three said no. That suggests the election of politicians serves primarily to maintain the illusion of democratic control. Like tourism, political outcomes are frequently overpowered by larger forces: oil prices, war, climate change, trade policy, and the entrenched public sector. Politicians come and go. Bureaucracies don’t.
By revisiting Powell’s 1970 book and tracing intervening trends, we can predict what Jersey might look like in 10 or 20 years. There’s an election next year, but its relevance to this analysis is minimal. Trends transcend campaign promises. Many voters will back “King Canute” candidates who vow to reverse the tide, or support naïve policies that risk unintended consequences far worse than any projected benefit.
Nostalgia is part of our identity. But future-facing realism leads to better spending decisions and peace of mind. Over the coming weeks, I’ll be working with Investment Strategist Peter Lucas to explore what Jersey in 2040 might look like—regardless of who holds office. These issues, after all, are not unique to Jersey. They resonate across numerous jurisdictions worldwide.
