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.