By Desiree K Major-Corneille

Across The Bahamas, in hidden communities, kiln flames devour underbrush for charcoal, apathetic to the choking smoke and vanishing habitat. Heavy equipment operators bulldoze topsoil into gullies, exposing water tables and tainting aquifers. On far-flung cays, excavators carve into mangroves and crush beach rock, reshaping pristine shores into ersatz paradises built on stolen ecology.

Currently, no single force exists to stop them. But what if there was such a force—a sister agency to the Royal Bahamas Defence and Police Forces, housed under the Ministry of National Security? What would that look like?

A national imperative

As a Small Island Developing State whose economy depends on reefs, mangroves, and freshwater, we cannot afford further degradation. Unauthorised charcoal kilns and deforestation destroy habitat and compromise water quality, while wildlife trafficking and unregulated dredging threaten fisheries and tourism—taking livelihoods from thousands who rely on clean water and healthy ecosystems.

Unchecked activities also introduce invasive species and waterborne diseases, undermining biosecurity and endangering communities. Without a centralised enforcement body, isolated cays become entry points for contraband — wildlife products and pathogens — that place our nation at risk. By establishing an environmental police force, citizens protect jobs in hospitality and fishing, safeguard public health, and ensure that fines fund restoration rather than disappear into bureaucratic limbo. Funding this force is essential to protect our economic engine, secure our islands against ecological and health threats, and empower every Bahamian to demand accountability.

Enshrining the mandate

To thwart these threats, imagine Parliament debating a bold Bill that commissions a dedicated “environmental police”—not as a vague proposal, but as an urgent necessity. Under this law, an autonomous agency would be created whose sole mission is to investigate, arrest, detain, seize, and prosecute anyone, company or individual, threatening our natural resources, environment or wildlife, on land and sea.

From Day One, the envisioned “environmental police” would wield warrantless search powers in conservation zones, full arrest and detention authority for environmental offenses, and asset-seizure capability to confiscate vessels, heavy machinery, or trucks before culprits vanish. It would also have an internal cadre of specialised prosecutors, eliminating today’s multi-agency bottleneck. No clause in the Act would be amendable without a two-thirds majority in both Houses of Parliament. Any future attempt to weaken these powers would require a binding public referendum, ensuring our enforcement teeth remain intact.

Every year, the environmental police team delivers its Performance & Justice Report—operations launched, arrests made, assets seized, fines collected, restoration funds allocated. An independent Audit Commission then audits expenses and training protocols, cementing transparency as non-negotiable.

Global partnerships and conventions

With domestic authority firmly in place, this force must also reach beyond our shores. As The Bahamas’ centralised reporting hub for all environmental enforcement data — filling a gap where today no unified system exists. A unified, interoperable platform will enable real-time cross-border intelligence — seizure logs, suspect profiles, vessel movements — eliminating the silos that currently hinder investigators.

This agency would monitor compliance of key conventions — CITES, the Convention on Biological Diversity, the Basel Convention, and the Protocol on Environmental Protection to UNCLOS — ensuring our domestic enforcement efforts align with global obligations.

A permanent liaison office would be exchanged with INTERPOL’s Environmental Crime Programme, NOAA, the US Fish and Wildlife Service, FWC, IMPACS, and other regional bodies to guarantee seamless information flow. These links would enable tracking of wildlife-trafficking syndicates, offshore illegal fishing fleets, and cross-border smuggling networks. Joint task forces would leverage shared databases — INTERPOL’s Illicit Trade Reports, NOAA’s vessel-tracker systems, and CARICOM IMPACS data — to intercept suspicious cargoes and vessels before they reach The Bahamas. Memoranda of Understanding with partner agencies would outline protocols for evidence-sharing, extradition requests, and coordinated operations, ensuring that no loophole remains unsealed and no jurisdiction can be exploited by transnational offenders.

Forging a perpetual cadre

A permanent force requires permanent people, recruited, trained, and retained through an Environmental Field-Training Academy and dual recruitment pathways that blend cross-agency secondments from law enforcement, prosecutorial, and regulatory bodies with civilian specialists (data analysts, forensic biologists, cartographers, community liaisons).

All applicants would undergo a Basic Law Enforcement Aptitude Assessment and rigorous vetting before entering an intensive curriculum covering Bahamian statutes, international conventions, use-of-force ethics, physical conditioning for remote operations, and technical skills—including drone piloting, night-vision navigation, wildlife DNA sampling, and satellite and AIS analysis.

No graduate would leave without meeting strict benchmarks in forensics, tactical operations, and community engagement, and every officer completes regular refresher training.

Clear career pathways guide roles from analysts to strategic advisors, biologists to instructors, and liaisons to outreach directors.

To maintain professionalism and innovation, two endowed chairs — in Environmental Law and Environmental Conservation Science — at the University of The Bahamas (funded by fines) will train recruits, spearhead research, and ensure academic rigor underpins all operations.

Arsenal for eternal vigilance

The Environmental Crime Command Centre would be the beating heart of the environmental police. It would be housed on a windowless command floor where 4K screens display satellite, drone, and AIS feeds in real time. Behind bulletproof glass and under hurricane-proof roofs, analysts process real-time data and issue rapid patrol directives.

On Andros, Abaco, Exuma, Eleuthera, and Crooked Island, mini-command posts stand guard — positioned near fishing docks, mangrove estuaries, and illegal-mining hotspots. Built of local materials and engineered for Category 5 storms, they endure for decades with minimal upkeep and minimal environmental impact.

Soon after its enactment, the force would operate a modern fleet of shallow-draft patrol vessels outfitted with night-vision, infrared cameras, and onboard forensics labs capable of processing wildlife samples in the field. A high-speed interceptor would ensure any fleeing vessels are swiftly overtaken, while rugged all-terrain vehicles equipped with satellite communications and scanners patrol remote shorelines and forested areas. 

Fixed-wing drones provide long-endurance, multispectral surveillance for real-time habitat monitoring, and smaller thermal-imaging quadcopters enable rapid response to nighttime incidents. 

Portable forensic kits — complete with DNA swabs and water-quality sensors — deliver immediate analysis on site, securing convictions before evidence can fade.

A dedicated Equipment Renewal Fund — capitalised by ten percent of every fine — would guarantee this arsenal never becomes obsolete. When new drone models emerge or remote-sensing technology advances, funding is already in place to upgrade without political debate.

A permanent institution

This environmental police force must be a permanent institution, founded on an Act that cannot be amended without a referendum and supported by a continual pipeline of rigorously trained personnel and cutting-edge equipment. 

Its legally invincible foundation would render it impervious to political interference, while officers — selected through transparent exams and trained to global best practices — would undergo annual refreshers to remain professionally unassailable. 

With command centres, patrol vessels, and drones operating in concert, the agency would be technologically omnipresent across all protected zones. 

Finally, transparently accountable mechanisms — public reports, community councils, and an open-source case portal — would ensure every action remains visible to every Bahamian.

This blueprint could remain as our nation’s unwavering promise: that no one will ever again plunder our last frontier — our ecosystems — uncontested. If we do not build this force now, clandestine kiln fires and habitat destruction will be the legacy we leave our children.

With that said, there is work for us all to do to see it through.

1. Legislators: Debate and pass this Bill immediately.

2. Policymakers: Fund bases, vessels, drones, and training — no excuses.

3. Citizens: Demand this force, volunteer when called, and hold leaders to account.

Because if we do not act now, we condemn our islands to an ever-shrinking frontier, stripped of its mangroves, its reefs, and its hope by locals and foreign actors alike. An environmental enforcement agency is not a mere aspiration. This is inevitable.