Last week a federal judge determined that the State of Florida and the current presidential administration—aka thug regime— violated the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) by building what’s known as Alligator Alcatraz, ordering the despicable state-run immigration detention center be dismantled.
The uplifting legal ruling requires detainees at this horrific inhumane hellhole to be moved out within 60 days, halts all new construction, and delivers a much-deserved comeuppance to both the president and his insipid cronies, including Florida’s lackwit governor, who have taken anti-immigrant ideology to insidious extremes.
Who knew, after a career as an environmental attorney specializing in NEPA for various entities within the Department of Defense, that this administrative law, which many claimed to therefore have no teeth because it lacks civil and criminal penalty provisions, would be the critical factor in the takedown of a cruel, politically motivated prison in order to protect the Everglades as well as vulnerable communities.
NEPA, after all, is a mere “planning statute,” requiring environmental analysis in the form of documentation called environmental assessments, or the more extensive Environmental Impact Statement (EIS), to address potential adverse impacts from federal projects. It also requires public input from stakeholders—as in those living in the affected community—on said impacts as addressed by federal agencies.
Potential environmental impacts to be addressed in an EIS, for example, can range from adversely affecting endangered species to desecrating American Indian sacred sites, but must include analysis of air, water, natural resources, and socioeconomic impacts, to name just a few. These are critical factors among many to be analyzed when an agency of the federal government is simply considering the location and scope of any given project.
When it comes to shutting down Alligator Alcatraz, the best way to understand how and why NEPA works the way it does is to look at the Miccosukee Tribe of Indians of Florida, which is the entity/community most adversely affected by this perverse prison. Because it was built within the boundaries of the Big Cypress National Preserve, a region central to the Miccosukee’s ancestral homeland and traditional villages.
Before a single step was taken to even decide where to place this contemptuous compound, much less construct it, NEPA analysis was required. And that takes time. Time to create the documentation itself (and build an administrative record that the planning process actually did take place) and time to hold public meetings at all locations being considered. Because NEPA also requires that any given project have more than one alternative option, including the no action alternative.
Had the NEPA process been followed, an EIS would have analyzed this geographical proximity of the planned location of Alligator Alcatraz to the Miccosukee ancestral homeland. It would have determined potential adverse impacts to the tribe’s cultural and traditional practices, because tribal members use the land around the facility for fishing, hunting, and other cultural activities.
Additional environmental impacts involve displacement of wildlife from construction, including the critically endangered Florida panther. Not to mention disrupting the delicate ecosystem of the Everglades itself, including plants and animals the tribe relies on for subsistence. Then there’s light and noise pollution from the facility’s intrusive lighting and general operations, and disruption of daily life from increased traffic of local roads. Again, these are just a handful of critical impacts among many to be comprehensively and concurrently addressed by NEPA documentation.
In short, NEPA means that Trump and DeSantis and company—while busy abusing power within the Department of Homeland Security—weren’t allowed to simply greenlight building a DHS facility wherever they wanted in record time, any more than any other federal agency would be able to do so. Because NEPA doesn’t even let the US Marine Corps, for example, construct a military housing unit on any military base in the US without first engaging in an analysis of environmental impacts of all potential plans.
This year the news regarding immigration, the environment, or otherwise, has been relentlessly demoralizing and depressing, but last week brought hope in the form of environmental law somewhat saving the day. It’s gratifying, to say the least, for this former NEPA lawyer. In writing my Other Worldly series that addresses anti-immigrant bigotry, I’ve also sought to include the importance of planetary environmental protection, of which the most recent, Aliens Watch, might just entail my most critical ecological message to date.
But, given that my protagonist Rowan Layne was also an environmental lawyer for the military, I’ve occasionally slipped in various references to professional experience in addressing environmental impacts. For instance, the homeporting the Navy’s nuclear aircraft carriers in Feeling Alienated, and concerns over desecration of desert flora and potential impacts to marine life from alien spacecraft landings beginning in Alienable Rights.
But perhaps my favorite that comes to mind is when Rowan mentions in Feeling Alienated how she once attended an interagency meeting at Langley, wherein the CIA was having a hissy fit about having to comply with environmental laws at Area 51. Rowan subsequently refers to them as “jerks,” which would be far too kind in the case of those responsible for the inhumane atrocity and gross environmental adverse impact that is Alligator Alcatraz. For now, it’s nice to know that NEPA can provide alligator-like teeth to tackle both anti-environmental and anti-immigrant thuggery taking place in Florida.