The Florida Everglades once stretched across nearly eleven thousand square miles, forming one of the most complex wetland ecosystems in the world. It was not simply a swamp, as early developers characterized it, but a slow-moving river that sustained extraordinary biodiversity and filtered water for South Florida. Today, however, the Everglades exists in fragments, constrained by levees, polluted by agricultural runoff, and perpetually “restored” without ever fully recovering. Despite decades of environmental legislation, federal intervention, and high-profile restoration efforts, the Everglades continues to deteriorate. This raises a troubling question: has U.S. environmental law failed to protect the Everglades from political and corporate interests? While environmental laws have prevented complete ecological collapse, they have largely failed to overcome entrenched economic and political power structures, particularly agribusiness, real estate development, and state-federal bargaining, which continue to shape outcomes more decisively than ecological science.

At the federal level, the Everglades is theoretically protected by a robust framework of environmental law. Statutes such as the Clean Water Act (CWA), the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA), and the Endangered Species Act (ESA) were designed to restrain precisely the kinds of environmentally destructive behavior that threaten wetlands. In practice, however, these laws operate through compromise, discretion, and enforcement gaps. Scholars have noted that environmental law in the United States is less a rigid shield and more a negotiated process shaped by economic priorities (Karkkainen). This is particularly evident in the Everglades, where agricultural interests, especially the sugar industry, have exercised enormous influence over regulatory outcomes.

The sugar industry in South Florida illustrates how corporate interests have consistently shaped environmental enforcement. Runoff from sugarcane fields, rich in phosphorus, is one of the primary causes of Everglades degradation. Excess phosphorus disrupts native plant communities and fuels invasive species, fundamentally altering the ecosystem. Although the Clean Water Act prohibits the discharge of pollutants into navigable waters, enforcement against agricultural runoff has historically been weak. Unlike industrial point sources, agricultural pollution is often classified as “nonpoint source” pollution, placing it largely outside the CWA’s strictest regulatory mechanisms. This legal distinction has allowed agribusiness to continue polluting while formally remaining within the bounds of the law (Zellmer).

Political pressure has further weakened regulatory enforcement. The Everglades Agricultural Area (EAA), dominated by powerful sugar corporations, has long been shielded by state and federal policymakers concerned about economic consequences. Studies in environmental federalism demonstrate how states often resist stringent environmental enforcement when it conflicts with local economic interests (Ruhl). Florida’s political leadership has repeatedly prioritized agricultural employment and campaign contributions over ecological integrity, resulting in delayed phosphorus standards and diluted restoration requirements. Environmental law exists, but its implementation bends toward those with economic leverage.

The Comprehensive Everglades Restoration Plan (CERP), enacted in 2000, was intended to correct decades of ecological damage. It is frequently cited as evidence that environmental law has succeeded in mobilizing large-scale restoration. Yet CERP also exemplifies the limitations of law when confronted with political bargaining. The plan emphasizes water storage and flow management rather than directly confronting pollution sources. Scholars argue that CERP’s design reflects political compromise rather than ecological necessity, allowing polluters to avoid full accountability (Light). As a result, restoration has proceeded slowly, unevenly, and often in ways that benefit urban and agricultural water users more than the ecosystem itself.

NEPA, often described as the “procedural backbone” of U.S. environmental law, has also proven insufficient. While NEPA requires environmental impact statements, it does not mandate environmentally protective outcomes. Agencies may acknowledge harm and proceed regardless, provided procedural steps are followed. In the Everglades, NEPA reviews have repeatedly documented ecological risks without preventing projects that prioritize flood control, water supply, or development (Karkkainen). The law produces information, not enforcement, and information alone has not been enough to counter political priorities.

Corporate influence is compounded by the structure of American environmental governance. Responsibility for the Everglades is fragmented among federal agencies, the state of Florida, and local water management districts. This diffusion of authority allows actors to deflect responsibility and delay action. Scholars describe this as a form of “institutional inertia,” where no single entity has both the authority and incentive to impose meaningful change (Ruhl). In such a system, corporate interests thrive because they can exploit jurisdictional complexity.

Importantly, the failure to protect the Everglades does not stem from an absence of law, but from the limits of law in the face of power. Environmental statutes were never designed to dismantle economic hierarchies; they were designed to regulate within them. As a result, political compromise is often built into environmental protection itself. The Everglades reveals a central paradox of U.S. environmental law: it promises preservation while accommodating the very forces that cause destruction.

That said, it would be inaccurate to claim environmental law has been entirely ineffective. The Everglades still exists because of federal intervention. Without the Clean Water Act, ESA litigation, and sustained public advocacy, degradation would likely have been far worse. Environmental law has slowed damage and preserved the possibility of restoration. Yet slowing destruction is not the same as preventing it. When restoration timelines stretch across decades and pollution continues unabated, legal success becomes largely symbolic.

Ultimately, U.S. environmental law has failed to protect the Everglades from political and corporate interests in any decisive sense. The law has constrained the most extreme abuses but has not overcome the structural power of business, development, and political bargaining. The Everglades is protected on paper, negotiated in practice, and degraded in reality. Until environmental law prioritizes ecological limits over economic convenience, the Everglades will remain a cautionary example of legal ambition undermined by political reality.

Works Cited

Karkkainen, Bradley C. “Toward a Smarter NEPA: Monitoring and Managing Government’s Environmental Performance.” Columbia Law Review, vol. 102, no. 4, 2002, pp. 903–972. JSTOR.

Light, Andrew. “Ecological Restoration and the Culture of Nature.” Environmental Ethics, vol. 23, no. 4, 2001, pp. 349–365. JSTOR.

Ruhl, J. B. “The Battle over Endangered Species Act Methodology.” Environmental Law, vol. 34, no. 2, 2004, pp. 555–603. JSTOR.

Zellmer, Sandra B. “The Virtues of Federalism.” Minnesota Law Review, vol. 100, no. 2, 2015, pp. 367–456. JSTOR.

Gannon, Michael. “Environmental Change in South Florida.” Florida Historical Quarterly, vol. 79, no. 2, 2000, pp. 189–213. JSTOR.

Davis, Susan. “Everglades Restoration: Progress and Challenges.” Ecological Restoration, vol. 23, no. 4, 2005, pp. 271–279. JSTOR.

Turner, Monica G. “Disturbance and Landscape Dynamics in a Changing World.” Ecology, vol. 91, no. 10, 2010, pp. 2833–2849. JSTOR.

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