Roosevelt Roads: What is the plan, Puerto Rico?
Military ships are offshore again. Exercises are underway in Ceiba and Arroyo. Local news is buzzing about whether the U.S. military is “back for good.” Reporters insist people are scared by the sight of soldiers.
But when “Jugando Pelota Dura” asked Puerto Ricans directly, an overwhelming majority said they welcomed the military’s presence. They see value in a force confronting nefarious actors in the Caribbean and anticipate an immediate economic lift from an influx of personnel and activity.
Perhaps those in favor understand the economic asset that existed when the military controlled Roosevelt Roads. Roughly $400 million was spent annually in Puerto Rico when Roosevelt Roads was an operational military base. That money is now being spent in Florida, captured by politicians there who saw the opportunity to have it spent in their districts. What Puerto Rico saw as a burden, they saw as an opportunity.
And yet, two decades later, our media want us to cower at the idea of the military returning — to act as if this presence is something sinister, while most countries see military infrastructure as an economic asset. Even stranger, the media only seem to care about Roosevelt Roads when the military is in town.
Attention flares up with exercises and maneuvers, then disappears once the uniforms are gone. There is endless energy to complain about what people don’t want but almost no debate about what they do want. Do we even know what should or could happen in Ceiba? Which brings us back, again, to the unavoidable question: What is the plan?
When the U.S. handed Roosevelt Roads to Puerto Rico in 2004, it transferred more than 8,000 acres, thousands of housing units, an airstrip, schools, utilities and a world-class hospital. Panama had just completed a similar handover of the Canal Zone in 1999, if not more daunting.
There, 370,000 acres and 7,000 buildings were quickly marketed, auctioned or repurposed into residential, commercial and tourism-oriented developments after the transfer. Panama transformed the Canal Zone into a broad economic engine through strategic redevelopment — turning assets into tax revenue, free-trade zones, tourism hubs and shipping-related services. That multisector integration fueled national growth and resilience.
In Puerto Rico, the government clutched Roosevelt Roads as if only it could manage such a prize, but control calcified into paralysis. What could have been preserved as a functioning community was left to rot.
Copper wiring, windows, toilets and fixtures were stripped and sold on the black market. Water lines, electric grids and sewer systems collapsed into uselessness. The hospital, once one of the Caribbean’s finest, now stands so degraded it can only be demolished.
Puerto Rico was handed a turnkey municipality: houses and apartments, a fire station, church, bowling alley, airport, marina, ballfields, restaurants, hospitals and more. It was a ready-made municipality, transferred intact.
Instead of unleashing that inheritance to spark new sectors and jobs, it was left to languish. Panama turned its transfer into a springboard. Puerto Rico turned Roosevelt Roads into a liability.
Why? Because we’ve been conditioned by the media and politicians to believe only government can handle projects of this scale. Politicians encourage that belief because it gives them power, and with power comes the chance to reward friends and allies.
The public has been told private hands cannot be trusted, even as government neglect proves it cannot handle the responsibility. Panama had a plan. Puerto Rico had politicians. And 20 years later, we are left with cobwebs.
Roosevelt Roads is not just abandoned land. It is a metaphor for what happens when leaders refuse to steward opportunity. Nefarious actors thrive in vacuums, while legitimate investment never takes root. To imagine Puerto Rico immune to this pattern is to ignore reality. Instead of asking how to finally restore Roosevelt Roads, our media avoid the question and rehash the past.
They fixate on whether the military is “back,” when the truth is that the U.S. military never fully left. There is still an Army base in San Juan, 21,000 working military personnel in Puerto Rico, another 75,000 retired living here, and training continues across the island much as it does in the states.
The fixation on fear is easier than confronting the failure of leadership. But the real story is not the military’s return. The real story is 20 years of wasted potential. Roosevelt Roads could be a hub of commerce, education and jobs. It could be a magnet for innovation.
Instead, it is a cautionary tale, a reminder that assets left in government hands without vision become ruins. Panama and Florida chose prosperity, while Puerto Rico chose something else.
The question lingers, as relevant today as it was in 2004: What is the plan, Puerto Rico? Will the media stay focused on Roosevelt Roads when the last ship sails away and the last soldier leaves?
Or will we return to silence until the next exercise comes along? Without a plan, we already know the answer: more abandonment, shadows and decline. And that is no plan at all.
Bob Gevinski is a real estate broker and owner of Paraíso Realty. A longtime Vieques resident, he has 30 years of experience in sales and marketing.
