The Florida community defended its protected land. Orlando Caves

Last month, plans to capture benefits from civil development in parts of a publicly protected wildlife area near Jacksonville were shot down as soon as the scheme was exposed.

Gov. Ron DeSantis’ administration appeared ready to illuminate this anti-green proposal, which cost parts of the Guana River Wildlife Management Area in exchange for developers to purchase land elsewhere. But the governor and developers came across opposing walls, local officials, legislators on both sides of the aisle, and even from the White House.

Susie Wills, president Donald Trump’s chief of staff, cut political chops in the Jacksonville area, said that allowing developers to destroy the area of ​​land they believe is “completely against what our community wants.”

Will was right. And the stealth development group quickly retracted the plan, promising to be a protectionist, yet another embarrassing case for the governor who was repeatedly caught trying to auction off the state’s protected land for financial gain. (Last year, his administration brought to light a failed plan to have a golf course in state parks.)

But this latest incident was more than just another black eye for Desantis. The story of northeastern Florida was in stark contrast to Central Florida, where the leader agreed to a similarly shady land swap.

I’m talking about the Split Oak Environmental Reserve, spanning Orange and Osceola counties.

The local toll roads department wanted to pave the reserve. This is a suggestion that it’s smooth to its face. You do not save the land by paving it.

But unlike Northeast Florida officials who rejected the offer, the Orange and Osceola county commissioners took the food. They voted to literally pave the land that was supposed to be protected forever in exchange for a promise to protect more elsewhere.

In doing so, they essentially acknowledged that in central Florida, natural lands and promises are not sacred. Everything is negotiable – this is exactly what developers want to hear.

To understand what the toll roads in Split Oak were betrayed, you first need to understand how the reserve was created.

Back in the 1990s, developers were trying to scooped up the land as quickly as possible to affordable ones. Also, Central Florida’s natural resources are becoming increasingly fouls. So local leaders came up with ideas. You will have the developer bulldoze forests, destroy Gopher turtle habitat in one place, and destroy them in one place, as long as you agree to buy land that will be protected forever.

That’s how split oaks came to exist. 1,700 acres of land, which the Orlando Sentinel described in 1995 as “a place where land developers can pay for the crime of environmental destruction.”

But now, a new generation of developers want to pave it.

Technically, highway authorities in the area have pushed to operate the Osceola Parkway through Split Oak. However, the agency wanted to turn developmental desires like the Tavistock Corporation and the development department of the Mormon Church into huge developments that could be sold to easily access far away land by car.

Most environmental groups and government watchdogs in the area saw this as a terrible idea. However, it doesn’t seem to bother with development-friendly boards in Orange and Osceola counties. Both committees voted in favor of the toll road betrayal in 2019. (The Orange Board of Directors made a U-turn a few years later and spoke out against its opponents.

And toll road supporters had an unlikely alliance in Florida’s Audubon society.

Audubon believed that toll roads would run through split oaks no matter what, even if highway authority had to use the power of prominent territory. And the group decided that allowing the road to pass through a smaller portion of the split oak in exchange for more acres of land would be better than the original plan of the authorities to run through the much larger split oak swath in exchange for nothing.

Audubon also argues that the two deals are different, as state land near Jacksonville had more specific protection than the split oak land owned by the county here.

I like and admire Audubon, mainly because this deal sets a terrible precedent.

If you paved development interest on the land you previously vowed to protect, nothing is truly protected. It’s all one big shell game. Developers who want to destroy natural land in one place are happy to agree that it will help protect natural land elsewhere.

I think we can argue that this is a discussion of principles and pragmatism. But I think it’s a rotten precedent of building irony among the public and building irony to see everyone treating land that is supposed to be preserved forever as more than a negotiating chit.

In fact, the most important details about the proposal in Jacksonville were where these developers offered to buy land that they would be protected forever as part of their deal.

In Osceola County… it doesn’t make much sense where they already promise to protect the land “forever.”

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