For millions, the Everglades are a place of wonder— “a slow-moving river of grass, a wildlife sanctuary, and a symbol of Florida’s natural identity.” Yet before its protections, early settlers viewed the wetlands as worthless and sought to “reclaim” the land. As scientific understanding grew, so did efforts to preserve what people increasingly recognized as an ecological treasure. In 1916, Royal Palm State Park became the first protected area within what would eventually become Everglades National Park. Throughout the 1920s, momentum built as the region drew national attention for its extraordinary flora and fauna. In 1923, National Park Service Director Stephen Mather urged federal protection for an untouched portion of the Everglades, while local advocates like Ernest F. Coe—who moved to Miami in 1925—made its preservation their life’s mission.
In 1928, Coe helped form the Tropical Everglades Park Association, with botanist David Fairchild as president. The following year, the Florida legislature created the Tropical Everglades National Park Commission, empowering the association to acquire land and appointing Coe as executive chairman. That same year, Congress authorized a federal investigation into the feasibility of a national park. After surveying the region by car, boat, and even a Goodyear blimp, the committee issued a favorable report supporting the park’s creation.
In 1934, Congress formally authorized the creation of Everglades National Park, a 2.16‑million‑acre park to be assembled entirely through donations. The legislation imposed one of the strongest wilderness protection mandates in National Park Service history. Progress stalled for a decade, but provisional protections arrived in 1944 with the establishment of a national wildlife refuge. Momentum returned in 1946 when the Florida Legislature allocated $2 million for land purchases, and the State Federation of Women’s Clubs donated Royal Palm State Park. Those efforts laid the groundwork for ongoing conservation initiatives today, but more comprehensive policies are still needed to address current threats such as climate change and urban development.
Today, the Everglades spans nearly 2 million acres and attracts more visitors, researchers, and nature enthusiasts than ever. In 2023 alone, nearly a million visitors spent more than $120 million at the park. Its protections generate significant revenue for the state, while the wetlands provide a natural habitat for wildlife and irrigation for one‑third of Floridians. Yet climate change—causing rising sea levels, warming oceans, and more intense storms—has accelerated degradation, especially along Florida’s coral reefs, pushing these ecosystems toward collapse despite existing safeguards.
The Summer That Rewrote the Future
The summer of 2023 brought high profits to coastal economies but also record‑breaking heat. Coinciding with an El Niño year, the season produced the most severe coral bleaching event in Florida’s history. Beginning in mid‑July, sea surface temperatures surged to 93°F—about 5°F above normal—and peaked weeks earlier than usual. Corals in the Miami region endured continuous, extreme heat for nearly twice as long as in any previous year.
By early fall, monitoring stations recorded unprecedented heat‑stress accumulation, and NOAA’s Coral Reef Watch placed the region under its highest alert levels. Field teams documented widespread bleaching and mortality across shallow reefs, including foundational species already weakened by disease and past disturbances. Corals that expelled their symbiotic algae in July never had a chance to recover, and many starved before temperatures finally relented in October. Scientists described the event as a “regional ecological emergency” that reshaped reef communities from Miami to the Keys and demonstrated how quickly Florida’s reefs can collapse when pushed beyond their limits.
A New Risk at the Worst Possible Time
Over the years, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers has repeatedly proposed deepening and widening the shipping channels at Port Everglades—aiming to boost economic activity despite numerous environmentally significant risks. The expansion would require extensive dredging directly adjacent to one of the last remaining coral reef systems in the continental United States, raising questions about long-term sustainability versus short-term economic gains.
Throughout the 2000s and early 2010s, NOAA surveys documented the density, diversity, and health of the reefs near the port entrance. That data soon gained new significance. Just 30 miles south, between 2013 and 2015, the Corps dredged Port Miami, and sediment plumes smothered nearby reefs, burying hundreds of acres and killing millions of corals—including several threatened species. The scale of destruction transformed the Everglades proposal into one of the most scrutinized dredging plans in U.S. history.
From 2015 to 2020, environmental groups challenged the Corps’ models, arguing that sediment spread had been severely underestimated and that the lessons of Port Miami were being ignored. Meanwhile, NOAA’s decade‑long monitoring confirmed that the reefs bordering Port Everglades remained biologically rich—and intensely vulnerable.
Despite these warnings, the project continued to advance. Conservation organizations cautioned that dredging could unleash sediment plumes capable of smothering millions of corals, echoing the devastation in Miami. Some described the proposal as potentially “the largest permitted coral destruction in U.S. history,” noting that the area still shelters threatened staghorn corals and serves as critical habitat for species like queen conch.
By 2025, preparations for real‑time water‑quality monitoring were underway, acknowledging the risks that dredging poses to the reef. After nearly three decades of planning, debate, and scientific review, the timeline had solidified: intensive construction was scheduled to begin in 2028.
A Defining Environmental Crossroads
What began as a routine modernization effort has become a defining test of whether South Florida would protect its remaining coral ecosystems—or repeat the mistakes of Port Miami at a moment when reefs are already pushed to the brink.
The reefs adjacent to Port Everglades are among the last surviving fragments of the Florida Reef Tract, the only barrier reef system in the continental United States. They are not simply scenic dive sites; they are living breakwaters that protect coastal communities from storm surge, support billions of dollars in tourism and fisheries, and shelter endangered species found nowhere else on Earth.
These ecosystems are now more fragile than at any point in recorded history. The 2023 bleaching event did not simply stress the reefs—it fundamentally reshaped them. Entire colonies of staghorn and elkhorn coral collapsed into rubble fields. Massive brain corals that had survived centuries of hurricanes, disease, and human disturbance starved in a matter of weeks. Scientists described the event as “ecologically transformative,” warning that the reefs’ recovery window is measured in short decades.
Environmental organizations, marine biologists, and local communities urged the Corps to delay or redesign the project until the reefs recover. Their warnings are grounded in reality and by the cautionary tale of dead coral skeletons.
With dredging having been scheduled to begin in 2028, public pressure was one of the hopeful tools that would have been capable of slowing or stopping the project. Several organizations mobilized Floridians and allies across the country—and the world—to demand stronger protections, independent oversight, and a full reassessment of the project’s environmental risks.
A Turning Point in the Port Everglades Fight
As of April 15, 2026, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers has formally withdrawn its state permit application for the Port Everglades Expansion dredging project, a move that marks the most significant shift in more than a decade of advocacy to protect Florida’s coral reef.
Scientists, conservation groups, and the global diving community have long warned that the project would cause what NOAA has described as “the largest impact to coral reefs permitted in U.S. history,” and the Corps’ withdrawal is the first indication that federal officials are reconsidering core elements of the plan. Although this pause reflects meaningful progress, organizations including Miami Waterkeeper, the Center for Biological Diversity, the Florida Wildlife Federation, Earthjustice, and DEMA, emphasize that the dredging is not yet canceled and that continued public pressure remains essential in the fight to stop the dredge. For now, the Corps’ temporary withdrawal opens a rare window of opportunity to reevaluate a project with far‑reaching ecological consequences. Still, advocates insist that only sustained vigilance will ensure Florida’s remaining reef is not pushed to the point of no return.
an article by Caitlyn Rain, underwater photos by FWC Fish and Wildlife Research Institute & port photos by Diego F. Parra, photo of Aligator Peter Lopez