Author: Ben Stubenberg (Page 1 of 2)

Fixing the problem

In Part I defined the complex nature of statelessness. I would be remiss if I did not offer solutions. Here goes:

First, recognize the stateless who have lived here most or all of their lives. Giving them status with documents would be a huge first step in restoring a measure of hope. And it would reduce the incentive to join a gang that offers them money, power, self worth, and a sense of belonging, however horrendous the trade-off to commit crimes. Of course, identifying and granting numerous people legal status would be a massive and complicated undertaking. Determining just who deserves status and who does not will never be easy. And there are political implications and push back on the prospect of even more legal residents. But none of that should dissuade or deter us. Indeed, the previous Governor, Nigel Dakin, granted some ten undocumented youngsters the status of naturalized citizens. Commendable, but hardly a dent. That process needs to be scaled up by several orders of magnitude.

What is the alternative? The stateless are not going away. They live among us and have for a long time. Indeed, many of the children of better-off Belongers and expats have played soccer or basketball and even hung out with these now-young adults without legal status. Those of us on the privileged side of the divide have seen their faces and their smiles that allowed a glimpse of an ideal world in which differences disappeared. A fleeting moment of complete equality before the game ended and “they” returned to the shantytowns where the house is lit only by candles, has no running water, and everyone sleeps on bare floors. Meanwhile, the rest of us return to our first-world homes just a mile or two away, secure and cozy with the AC blasting.

Should these stateless youngsters now be condemned to perpetual poverty and dead-ends purely because their parents didn’t have or file the proper papers at the right time? Is it okay for the rest of us to turn away while our own children pursue their dreams of higher education, travel, a career, all uncomplicated by concerns of status and citizenship? There’s a profoundly moral issue here, as well as a practical one.

Second, ramp up social services and health care in the settlements. This is directly related to the statelessness. Right now social services are way understaffed and cannot reach all the people in need, particularly children who may be in unstable environments or in danger of being harmed physically, mentally or through exploitation. This will require training and hiring of large numbers of social service counselors and working closely with existing facilities that can provide a temporary home for the most vulnerable.

Regarding health care, none of the undocumented have national health insurance cards, nor can they afford medical treatment. Some medical professionals provide free or nearly free services, but their charity can only cover a fraction of the need. Therefore, clinics should be established in the settlements for people to visit and at least get basic care, including counseling for mental health. Also under the radar for this stateless group is the enormous psychological stress and sometimes lingering trauma. Visible social services and health care can alleviate suffering and restore well-being that makes possible the mental strength to escape poverty.

Third, expand vocational job training opportunities post-high school. Specifically, offer youngster a chance to be certified as mechanics, electricians, plumbers, air-conditioning repair, and builders, among other trades. It need not stop there. Classes in coding, AI, IT, medical tech, and accounting can also be added to the mix. There is high demand for people with these skills, so job placement should not be an issue. At the very least, it gives young people a vocation that can be applied immediately to earn money and possibly build a business.

Fourth, slow or stop altogether new resort development. Yes, heretical as it seems since TCI is almost entirely dependent on tourism for its well-being. But unfettered development, even if mostly high-end, precipitates TCI’s inequality. Development brings high prices for everything, particularly food and rent. The purchase of land or a finished home has become completely out of reach for most people and thus erases any opportunity for building even a modicum of wealth or security.

In short, rapid growth without measures mitigating the consequences keeps people poor, including many Turks Islanders. A job paying minimum wage of $8.00 an hour does not begin to cover costs, even for the most frugal. But the stateless cannot even aspire to those jobs. If they can get work, it’s on the down-low with no protections and for even less money.

Everyone on Provo, whether monied or not, clearly sees how mass development is severely stressing the infrastructure and causing the island to lose its luster. And while that is a serious concern, it tends to overshadow the compelling issue of the statelessness coupled with poverty fostered by too much development. Bringing to a halt to new resorts would allow the island to reset and refocus on how to include the left-behind members of society so they too can have a stake in the future.

Pivot to Social Investment

None of these recommendations is new or unique or revolutionary. In fact, there have been calls for these kinds of changes for some time in various forms. Of course, easier to advocate than to actually put into practice. A huge social investment in TCI’s most powerless will require a longterm commitment requiring many more regulatory officers, service providers, and teachers, and it will cost plenty.

Funding for such a massive venture could be done in two ways. First, by raising the current hotel tax 1% from 12% to 13%. Second, by increasing the stamp duty 1% from 10% to 11% for property sales with a value over $750,000. That additional money raised can be specifically earmarked for social transformation and clearly spelled out to all those who are charged the extra fee. I am confident that few tourists or investors would object to help reduce poverty in TCI.

Just as TCI has led the Caribbean in tourism development, the country can also lead the way in applying tourism revenue to lift up those who have fallen into the social abyss. This does not mean giving residency to all people who arrived illegally just because they are now here. But it does mean lending a big hand to the younger generation that has lived here most of their lives but missed out securing the rights and privileges that others have–again, through no fault of their own. In so doing, TCI could do right and make progress on the seemingly intractable challenge of putting an end to murderous gangs that blight the grace and allure of these magnificent islands.

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Gangs and Despair in the Turks & Caicos Islands

Gang violence continues to be a painful reality in TCI, especially for those residing in the less well-off settlements (villages) of Provo. At night, worried residents shut windows that used to be open to catch the breeze from the ocean and cool the house. But closed windows cannot mute the sound of gunshots that pop like fireworks. First one, then two, then a bunch in a row followed by the flurry of text messages speculating on whose body will be found the next morning. These are the people–Haitians, Dominicans, Jamaicans, Bahamians, as well as many Turks Islanders– who live on the other side of the glaring gulf between the astoundingly rich and the struggling poor. The ones who got left behind while hundreds of millions of dollars of resort investment poured in and created a stark and troubling parallel universe.

The vast majority of those living in the settlements, sometimes little more than a stone’s throw from the posh tourist hub of Grace Bay, want to better their lives, be good citizens, and abide by the law. But for too many, there is no ticket out. These are people with no documents to be here legally. They live in the shadows of a sprawling underclass but also in plain sight.

At the bottom of this social order, the most vulnerable of all, are the stateless. They are the ones who came to TCI as toddlers, some even born here. Many, maybe most of them, have completed high school. But, when they reach 18 years old, they cannot get a job, obtain a driver’s license, open a bank account, and certainly cannot qualify for a passport to travel. Moreover, without status they live with the dread they might be picked up and deported to a country they have never known. A perfect and heart wrenching profile for gang recruitment and the crux of the predicament facing TCI.

More than Police Work

Policies to stem gang violence center on bringing in more police resources. Police Commissioner, Edwin Martin and other senior government officials have called for more police vehicles, more equipment, more stations, more maritime assets, and more UK assistance to tackle the scourge of gangs along with the trafficking of drugs, people and guns. Commissioner Martin has also recommended a “Whole of Society” approach to combatting crime by urging citizens, businesses and government to unite.

One can hardly disagree with such comprehensive requests and uplifting ideals. All good and right, but, sadly, more cops on the beat will not be enough to eradicate entrenched criminals. And a robust intelligence network of citizens standing together shows no sign of happening anytime soon. Indeed, almost nobody in these communities talks to the police for fear of retaliation. So gangs continue to foment violence over turf battles, hold-ups, perceived disrespect, suspected snitching, or vengeance for the shooting of rival gang member. Law enforcement alone, however well-funded, cannot succeed in this environment.

What’s needed is a concerted commitment to treating the underlying social despair that fuels gang violence. Getting a handle on this requires a deeper strategy and a longterm investment aimed at the marginalized stateless who live on the fringes of society–the pool that gangs draw from and gives them power. A gargantuan and complex task to be sure. But that pool must dry up to check and ultimately crush gang violence. So, rather than just call for more police on the streets and greater unity, however well-intended, let’s take a hard look at how we got to this point– and what can be done about it.

Boomtown & Shantytown

Forty years ago, Provo had less than 1000 people. Since then, growth has accelerated to the point where the island has become a major high-end tourist destination. That trend has not slowed down. Today around 40,000 (estimates vary widely) people live in Provo–a nearly 4000% increase. In 2023 Provo alone saw more than a half million overnight tourists from abroad, a 22% increase from pre-pandemic 2019. Currently, there are some 17 new resort projects planned or in the works to accommodate a projected 1.1 million visitors by 2032. All of this has brought in millions of dollars in revenue to TCI through property stamp duty, import duty, and the tax on hotel stays, restaurant meals, and recreational activities. On the surface, that kind of prosperity would appear to be positive and enviable, as it creates jobs as well as revenue.

But the development and population explosion also drew in large numbers of people, documented and undocumented, who did not always get a piece of the action. The poorest and most desperate arrived from Haiti, often crossing 130 miles of dangerous ocean in small, crowded boats run by ruthless human traffickers. Many others also came in search of jobs to escape poverty or to make a buck on a tropical island. Those who lost out added to an ever-expanding underclass filled with its own divisions, struggles, fears, prejudices, and anger. It sounds paradoxical, but the striking disparity in wealth and opportunity is typical of boomtown economies. Provo is no different in that sense.

As a result of the influx, the local settlements on Provo expanded with people who were not part of the economy and could never can be. A 2014 UN sponsored Poverty Assessment report in sheds a statistical light on the situation. According to the report, 8% of the TCI population had no formal residential status. They have either arrived illegally or their work permits have expired, or they were born into non-Belonger (non-Islander) households and have not acquired the nationality of their parents. Haitians made up two-thirds of this group, according to the UN report. Drawing on a 2013 US Labor Department study, the UN report estimated the number in this undocumented status to be 2000.

More than a decade later in 2024, it’s fair to surmise that the number of people without documentation has risen dramatically in synch with Provo’s expansion. One can, of course, make a strong argument that those who came here from somewhere else without proper documents, or had a work permit that expired but didn’t leave, took the risk. And in most cases they probably should not be accorded status for unlawful behavior. But what about the hundreds, if not thousands, who, through no fault of their own, never had any status to begin with? The ones who fell through the cracks and have nowhere to go.

Readers of my blog postings and articles are well aware of my deep concern (and fascination) about the collision between extreme poverty in Haiti and high-end tourism development in the Turks & Caicos Islands. Indeed, just a few days ago, a sloop from Haiti with 44 persons aboard was intercepted by the Marine Police just off the private island of Ambergris Cay (south of South Caicos).

Ambergris Cay is without question one of the most exclusive private islands in the world with several stunning and tastefully built villas spread out along the coast with spectacular views. Moreover, the developers have set aside large swaths of wilderness to ensure the island retains its ecological balance, including protection of some 7000 endangered iguanas. Here, villa owners and guests can look out their windows during whale season (late January – late March) and watch humpback whales breaching a few hundred yards away. Hard to beat that! So, it’s not surprising that the superbly managed super high-end island resort caters to 1/10th of 1% of tourists and with its own private jetport.

Intriguing, of course, is that the private island is just 120 miles north of Haiti where human traffickers regularly send off boats from the north shore with dozens if not hundreds of desperate migrants. While these boats skirt the shores of Ambergris Cay–usually off-course in their effort to reach Provo–the close encounters once more prompts the question: Are we witnessing a microcosm of extremes that foreshadows a world in which the very rich will live next door to the very poor? Actually, this is already happening on Provo. The wealthy can, of course, segregate their properties with gated communities, high walls, and security guards. But the poor masses will take up residence just outside in hopes that some of that crumbs from wealth on the other side of the fence spill over to them. That, of course, is going to be visually uncomfortable, until it isn’t, and the two worlds simply become an accepted part of the landscape.

But as we drift toward those disparate worlds, and certainly not for the first time, we need to consider the consequences. For one thing, it will certainly reinforce a clear and ever-growing class system of haves and have nots that is unlikely to remain static. Great inequality in wealth and status and privilege rarely does. In this case, the lives of the well-to-do and the struggling isn’t hidden from view by either side of the divide. And no one should have any illusion that the gulf of disparity, close and personal, will simply be accepted. The deepening divide needs to be addressed now. For those with means, it presents a magnificent opportunity to solve a seemingly intractable socio-economic problem of opportunity and, in so doing, perhaps create a model for the world.

September is the peak of hurricane season and many resorts have closed, leaving the beaches of Grace Bay empty and the island quiet. Great for long beach walks alone and for reflection on all the new resorts being built and the crowds of beach lovers who will soon be back. The surge in construction, 17 major projects in the works, certainly reflects the continued appeal of Provo as a preferred destination and place for condo/villa investment.

As I noted in my article on the “Perils of Over-tourism,” however, the large number of projects comes at a heavy cost that undercuts the very specialness of limited high-end tourism that we have enjoyed for so long. Indeed, the risk of stagnation or evolving into just another ordinary mass vacation spot indistinguishable from others where development ran rampant. Those of us who live here, as well as those who visit often, can see upfront the increase in congestion on the roads and at the airport and wonder what will become of Provo. At least the beaches still offer some space to spread out. But that too may be threatened.

An even more daunting concern is the ever-growing disparity between massive wealth and extreme poverty. On this small island thousands of people live in crowded, substandard housing with little hope of improvement. Following Hurricane Irma in 2017, I and others went into the shantytowns to deliver food and water. At one house, we met with three adult women and two teenage girls who lived in a room with no running water, no toilet, and no electricity. They lit candles at night to provide some light. Of course, they could not cook, so they depended on more expensive prepared food at the supermarkets. The teens slept on a cot while the women showed me how they pulled down a plywood sheet as their bed and used crumpled clothes as bedding. And the teens still got up every morning to walk through mud to catch the bus to school. The scene and their story were heartbreaking.

Today, seven years later, the inequality problem has only grown with ever-more people, mostly undocumented but not exclusively, struggling without the most basic conveniences. Moreover, like the teens I met, many youngsters have no status usually due to parental circumstances. When they hit 18 and finish high school, they are not able to get a job and are subject to deportation back to a country they have never known. That and the appalling living conditions, of course, make them far more vulnerable to crime with little recourse. Tellingly, the impoverished live in the shadows, a mere stone’s throw from the high-end resorts where condo bookings go for thousands of dollars a night. (Villas go for much more.) The contrast could not be more stark and searing, and it cannot go on forever. Sensible solutions to follow.

I wanted to give everyone an update on the long anticipated book launch of The Jamaican Bobsled Captain. The book is in the process of being formatted for placement on Amazon and other major book selling platforms as eBook and printed hardcopy. Hope to have that completed by end of September for launch in early October. Delving into the dramatic journey of Jamaican bobsled team captain Dudley “Tal” Stokes with all its twists and turns has been the highlight of my writing career. Notably, I was able to weave into the story quite a bit of Jamaican, Olympic, and bobsled history to complement a riveting biography. Can’t wait to share with you and the world!

Earlier this year I had the distinct honor and privilege to write a feature article for Times of the Islands about an astounding rescue at sea of four survivors of a plane crash. Those involved in the search and rescue, as well as the pilot who skillfully ditched the plan off Grand Turk that fateful January day in 2023, generously gave their time to write the story. And what a story!

As the article lays out, the four souls on the small twin-engine Cessna should not have survived the crash in those 8-10 foot seas. Nor should they have been found drifting in the ocean for hours. But thanks to the tenacity and seamanship of local boat captain, Kell Talbot, and his crew members Anthony Forbes and Jervis Simmons–along with unexpected guidance from a pod of dolphins–they all survived. Yes, three dolphins showed up to take Kell and crew straight to the survivors! It’s also a story about how Turks Islanders all pulled together when the call came. A magical day for all of us. Read the full story in the Articles tab.