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Authors: Carl Hiaasen
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Fix That
In the absence of a sane growth-management policy, nature is becoming the great equalizer in Florida.
A 17-month drought has made a puddle of Lake Okeechobee and has parched the Biscayne Aquifer. Parts of the Everglades are drying up, while advancing seawater endangers the well fields that serve hundreds of thousands of residents in Broward and Palm Beach counties.
Water managers warn that, unless consumption is drastically reduced, the taps could run dry—or, at the least, start spitting salt—in several coastal communities. Forget about watering your lawn; you won’t be able to water your kids.
The emergency is so dire that even a busy hurricane season may not make it go away. Florida, one of the wettest states in the country, is running dry.
Drought cycles here are nothing new, but this is the first one to occur with 18 million people encamped on the peninsula. They might cut back on sprinkling their geraniums, but they won’t stop taking showers or washing their laundry.
Not many politicians are brave enough to cite overpopulation as a cause of the current crisis, though it is. There are too many people using too much water, but it’s easier to blame the weather.
The state’s primitive, low-tech economy revolves around cramming as many humans as possible onto every available acre. Few in Tallahassee have the guts to admit that it’s time to change course.
This is where nature steps in. Try selling a new home or a condo when briny crud is dripping from the spigots.
Since its infancy, Florida has had a contentious relationshipwith water. The Everglades were diked and dredged to sabotage the natural flow, first for the benefit of agriculture and later for the benefit of land developers. The Everglades promptly began to die, and only when the financial ramifications became manifest did those same special interests rally behind the current restoration program.
Unlike California and other fast-growing states, Florida can’t hijack big rivers to supply its thirsty cities. Much of our water is pumped from porous rock underground, and without moderate rain, the levels keep dropping and salt intrusion progresses.
Once a contaminated well is shut down, it can take years to bring it safely back online. Said Jesus Rodriguez, spokesman for the South Florida Water Management District, “The scenario is a grim one. We could be talking about bottled water for the municipalities for a long time.”
One way to gird for the future—and protect families who already live here—would be to impose building moratoriums in those counties where the water shortage is most acute.
This is way too simple and sensible. Moratoriums can’t be enacted unless local leaders are willing to stand up to developers, a rare occurrence indeed. The state is requiring counties to recycle water for nonpotable uses, but that doesn’t curb the liquid appetite of sprawl.
It’s lunacy to continue carving out subdivisions and erecting high-rises when the wells are drying up, but that’s the plan: Keep Florida growing, no matter what. Once the rainy season begins, everything’s gonna be fine, right?
Wrong. The state was soaked by hurricanes and tropical waves during 2004 and 2005, yet where’s all that water now?
As we all know, newcomers aren’t easily spooked away from Florida. Despite predictions of another terrible storm season, the state’s population soared last year by nearly431,000. That’s the same as adding two more cities, each the size of Orlando.
According to the University of Florida’s Bureau of Economic and Business Research, the state will have 20 million residents within three years and almost 25 million by 2025.
Don’t let anybody tell you this is good news, unless you yearn for more taxes, higher insurance rates, and water bills as hefty as your car payment. That’s the future, and it’s not so far off.
Rains will come this summer, as they always do, providing temporary cover for politicians who don’t
In the absence of a sane growth-management policy, nature is becoming the great equalizer in Florida.
A 17-month drought has made a puddle of Lake Okeechobee and has parched the Biscayne Aquifer. Parts of the Everglades are drying up, while advancing seawater endangers the well fields that serve hundreds of thousands of residents in Broward and Palm Beach counties.
Water managers warn that, unless consumption is drastically reduced, the taps could run dry—or, at the least, start spitting salt—in several coastal communities. Forget about watering your lawn; you won’t be able to water your kids.
The emergency is so dire that even a busy hurricane season may not make it go away. Florida, one of the wettest states in the country, is running dry.
Drought cycles here are nothing new, but this is the first one to occur with 18 million people encamped on the peninsula. They might cut back on sprinkling their geraniums, but they won’t stop taking showers or washing their laundry.
Not many politicians are brave enough to cite overpopulation as a cause of the current crisis, though it is. There are too many people using too much water, but it’s easier to blame the weather.
The state’s primitive, low-tech economy revolves around cramming as many humans as possible onto every available acre. Few in Tallahassee have the guts to admit that it’s time to change course.
This is where nature steps in. Try selling a new home or a condo when briny crud is dripping from the spigots.
Since its infancy, Florida has had a contentious relationshipwith water. The Everglades were diked and dredged to sabotage the natural flow, first for the benefit of agriculture and later for the benefit of land developers. The Everglades promptly began to die, and only when the financial ramifications became manifest did those same special interests rally behind the current restoration program.
Unlike California and other fast-growing states, Florida can’t hijack big rivers to supply its thirsty cities. Much of our water is pumped from porous rock underground, and without moderate rain, the levels keep dropping and salt intrusion progresses.
Once a contaminated well is shut down, it can take years to bring it safely back online. Said Jesus Rodriguez, spokesman for the South Florida Water Management District, “The scenario is a grim one. We could be talking about bottled water for the municipalities for a long time.”
One way to gird for the future—and protect families who already live here—would be to impose building moratoriums in those counties where the water shortage is most acute.
This is way too simple and sensible. Moratoriums can’t be enacted unless local leaders are willing to stand up to developers, a rare occurrence indeed. The state is requiring counties to recycle water for nonpotable uses, but that doesn’t curb the liquid appetite of sprawl.
It’s lunacy to continue carving out subdivisions and erecting high-rises when the wells are drying up, but that’s the plan: Keep Florida growing, no matter what. Once the rainy season begins, everything’s gonna be fine, right?
Wrong. The state was soaked by hurricanes and tropical waves during 2004 and 2005, yet where’s all that water now?
As we all know, newcomers aren’t easily spooked away from Florida. Despite predictions of another terrible storm season, the state’s population soared last year by nearly431,000. That’s the same as adding two more cities, each the size of Orlando.
According to the University of Florida’s Bureau of Economic and Business Research, the state will have 20 million residents within three years and almost 25 million by 2025.
Don’t let anybody tell you this is good news, unless you yearn for more taxes, higher insurance rates, and water bills as hefty as your car payment. That’s the future, and it’s not so far off.
Rains will come this summer, as they always do, providing temporary cover for politicians who don’t
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