The Tribune

ONCE upon a time in Bahamaland, the promise of jobs was the golden ticket. A developer bought vast amounts of undeveloped acreage or leased plots of Crown Land, proposed a resort or villas or condos or gated community, government declared and proudly announced the value of the investment and the number of jobs it would create as if they had made the magic happen themselves. Before you could say, ‘Whoa, mister, hold on a second!” there would be a celebration and rousing applause. Media and invited guests would flock to the groundbreaking ceremony, dignitaries would don hard hats and turn the first decorated shovel of soil, and a reception would follow.

Hail fellow well-met self-congratulatory pats on the back accompanied by finger food, music and high spirits. Dawn would break the next day ushering in excavation equipment. Underground infrastructure would churn up the earth, trees in the way would be felled, the land would never be the same, maybe the people and community and culture would be altered in ways no one suspected.

It didn’t matter, The Bahamas needed development. Bahamians needed jobs.

“It’s all about the jobs,” the politicians would say, mostly among themselves, quietly. Jobs in their constituency.

Not just about the jobs

But it’s not just about the jobs anymore.

Bahamians are finding their voice, asking serious questions about the price they are willing to pay to hold on to what is most dear to them – their way of life, the culture of their community or settlement, the architecture they want to preserve, the people they want to protect from masses of strangers, and above all, the environment they cherish, an environment that will be at risk of irreversible change.

Developers are no longer getting a free pass just because they promise investment and jobs. Not that it was ever easy for them, believe me. I’ve been in many a meeting where negotiations reminded me of a visit to the dentist. But I’ve also been part of many a celebratory groundbreaking and heard the not-so-quiet whispers about “they need the jobs. It’s all about the jobs.”

Something has changed. There’s a new wind blowing and it’s carrying the voice of Bahamians who want to protect what they have. Bahamians and invested residents are saying they’re not opposed to development, but they want a voice in what it looks like. They’re standing up for their rights: their lifestyle, their community, their waters and land and the marine life and animals and birds that depend on it, the trees that grow on it, the children who flourish because of it, and the traditions that make their piece of this shrinking paradise their own.

A movement gaining momentum

Take, for example, the almost instantaneous uproar against the proposed Gillam Bay development that would usurp one of the last undeveloped coastal areas of tiny Green Turtle Cay in Abaco. All five members of the District Council voted against it, giving it a thudding thumbs down. Residents and business owners called for more transparency and urged that the land be preserved, either set aside as a national park to be managed by the Bahamas National Trust or reserved officially for recreational or preservation purposes for future generations. In late July, they declared they are willing to take legal action if need be.

That’s a far cry from the kind of reception Family Island proposals were receiving in the early days of the repeal of the Immovable Property Act, which ushered in a rush of economic expansion and freed up many properties. But in the course of doing right by the economy, it became increasingly apparent that there had to be a balance – a way for economic prosperity to co-exist with environmental preservation and stewardship.

What began with the Save The Bays fight to preserve Clifton Bay and the surrounding area has multiplied a dozen times over. We saw it in the fight against Baker’s Bay in Abaco, in a fierce but losing battle to preserve Lighthouse Point in Eleuthera where, in the end, Disney won out because there was a desperate need for jobs. We see it now in the Sampson Cay, Exuma projects where locals united in the Save Exuma Alliance to protect the waters of the North Bay off the cay, one of the greatest marine treasures of the region, but where a Miam-based group wants to put industrial docks and a back-of-house operation that opponents say will destroy thriving coral reefs, conch beds, turtle habitats and forever eradicate the spectacular swimming, snorkeling and dive area. That alliance has united interests as diverse as young tour boat captains, an airline owner, and the operators of what is possibly the single most luxurious and award-winning property in the nation, Over Yonder Cay.

We saw the resistance to Resorts World Bimini and we watch the aftermath of a business plan that many said had failure written all over it before it was even announced. Family Island casinos have never succeeded in The Bahamas and the chances of their doing so are even slimmer now with nearly every state in the US allowing gaming of some sort. And the competition of the casinos at resorts like Atlantis and BahaMar, where there is a plethora of other activity, restaurants, spas, entertainment, luxury shopping, and all the glitz and glam associated with such places in such close range to a remote small casino with none of the sparkle.

Real gamblers who spend big don’t want a casino the size of a diner. They want the glam and sex appeal.

The record of failure is clear – Royal Oasis in Freeport, closed in 2004, jobs lit – 1,300. Treasure Bay, Freeport, closed 2016, jobs lost – 150. Emerald Bay, Exuma, casino closed along with Four Seasons. Even when BahaMar’s initial bankruptcy was declared, BEC was left holding an unpaid bill of $19.5 million, money that the current power company would surely be glad to see now and has absolutely no chance of collecting.

And along comes the biggest ‘No!’

While Exumians marched out of the Sampson Cay-related town hall shouting “NO DREDGING, NO DREDGING, NO DREDGING”, nothing compared to the organized resistance at last week’s town hall at Workers House in Governor’s Harbour.

On a narrow island with limited population, so little traffic there’s no need for a signal, more than 200 citizens and residents turned out to listen to a presentation and raise questions about the J Resort proposal that included a casino for Governor’s Harbour.

Opponents came prepared, peppering the prospective developer, Jeffrey Jacobs, a casino operator from Cleveland, Ohio with operations in Reno, Nevada, with question after question. How would such a large development of hundreds of homes, a ‘hotel village,” marina and more not overwhelm already strained utilities, including water and power. If fully built, it would use more than 110 percent of Eleuthera’s water supply, they suggested. How can Eleutherans trust a company that has not published financials in more than 10 years and whose rating has been downgraded by Standard & Poor’s? Why should the government gift Crown Land to a foreigner when tens of thousands of applications for smaller amounts of Crown Land for Bahamians are waiting to be considered? How much of the project depends on government and concessions that other taxpayers don’t get? Where was the financing? What are the real benefits to Bahamians? What happened in Reno when you said you were going to build affordable housing for seniors and you bought up property and people were displaced? (Mr Jacobs said he built it though time frame was a little unclear.)

From the moment Mr Jacobs said he had been visiting Eleuthera for more than 15 years, sometimes with his children and “a few of my ex-wives,” the crowd was poised and aimed to fire. If this man, who did not understand “a few of my ex-wives” would not go over well with this Christian nation, wanted to come in and turn the place we call home upside down, he had a lot of explaining to do. And when Mr Jacobs said he would “donate” five points of beach access of Crown Land “back to Bahamians” the room went wild. “Donate back to us, donate access on our land back to us?” people shouted.

Jacobs cowed, as more developers who are insensitive to local culture and needs will do in the future. He said he would voluntarily withdraw his application for Crown Land from the proposal. That still left other plans dangling and the crowd trying to figure out exactly what was behind it.

The concept of a “hotel village” seemed to add confusion. Folks wondered why Mr Jacobs  thought it was an acceptable idea to build pathways around town so people did not have to go through their town, the town they love, by the way. And when he mentioned the words possibly doing something with Cupid’s Cay, the crowd nearly went ballistic.

They pursued and persisted. They wanted to know who was financing this, what did he mean by building housing and whatever else was involved over a 20-year period? The longer the meeting went on, the clearer the picture became until finally, the question was asked directly, and I paraphrase slightly, “Mr. Jacobs, you eliminated Crown Land and the public-private partnership. Are you willing to give up the casino?”

Jacobs answered without hesitation.

“No casino, no Jeff.”

The truth had emerged – the casino was the hoped-for cash cow that might have made Mr. Jacobs a richer man or, if based on past Family Island casino history in The Bahamas, may have failed. The developer, of course, was hoping for the former.

The voice of the people had rung out and wrung out the truth of a proposed development. I believe the prospective developer who really wanted a casino and came in promising jobs and solar and affordable housing and pathways to avoid town was still gentlemanly enough to host a question-and-answer breakfast the next morning. I did not hear anything about it. The next sound I heard was the quiet engine of his impressive jet as it revved up, preparing to take off from the Governor Harbour Airport.

He will be back. He owns a lot of property in Eleuthera and maybe one day he will come to understand that changing a place you once fell in love with isn’t the best way to treat it. Now that Bahamians have found their voice, it won’t all be about the jobs. We’re better than that and the places we call home deserve better, too.