An Everglades Scientist on Trial in Ron DeSantis’s Kingdom
It’s important to note that the trial was not about what the scientist did to the nonprofit, then, but what he did to the court. Another way of seeing this is that Van Lent has become tangled in a carefully woven legal web. (Indeed, an appeals judge reviewing the case appears to be worried that Lopez chose to appoint one of the foundation’s lawyers to lead the prosecution, rather than a more neutral attorney representing the public interest.) Van Lent’s cleanup efforts were irresponsibly sloppy, sure; his refusal to turn over his data was, if righteous, obviously foolhardy. But the foundation based its request for an injunction on the controversial idea that its science constituted trade secrets, an idea that has not been tested in court.
Stuart Pimm, who served as a character witness for Van Lent, finds this alarming. Sure, he said, a tech company might need to protect the discoveries that underlie its products—but that need signals that it’s engaged in business, not true science. Ultimately, Pimm sees the case as bigger than the Everglades: It’s “about whether people who find science discomforting” can try to silence it. If we’re going to restore the Everglades—or fix up nature anywhere—“then we need the best science,” he said. “And Tom was doing the best science.”
Throughout our exchanges, Weisblum put more emphasis on Van Lent’s acts of deletion than on the allegations of stolen trade secrets. The destruction “goes against every scientist’s ethic of preserving data for future reference,” she said, suggesting it was more consequential than the foundation’s decision to remove Van Lent’s FAQ from its website six years earlier. But even if the case is just a personnel matter, the foundation’s scorched-earth approach appears vindictive—and has opened up the nonprofit to valid criticisms. Paul Tudor Jones once told a journalist that the foundation was “100% committed to scientific truth and nothing else.” By taking down Van Lent’s paper, the foundation has demonstrated that it has other commitments, too. Pimm worries that its example might encourage cynical politicians, especially as the climate crisis becomes increasingly hard to deny. They, too, will pursue the easy solutions, promoting new infrastructure, claiming they’re addressing the problem—then quash any research that might suggest they’re not doing enough.
In December 2023, citing Van Lent’s unwillingness to apologize, Lopez imposed a 10-day jail sentence. Van Lent, who had already been ordered to pay some of the foundation’s legal fees, has filed for bankruptcy and is appealing the decision. “I can’t apologize for something I didn’t do,” he told a journalist a few weeks later, when, unbowed, he flew to Miami to attend an annual Everglades conference.
That conference was a reminder that the long project to restore the Everglades continued, as did the politicking—often hand in hand. In January, just a few weeks after Van Lent’s sentencing, officials gathered on a dusty levee at the edge of the Everglades Agricultural Area; the state was ready to unleash water into the treatment area. Eikenberg was there, of course, dressed in a polo shirt; a Biden official attended the ceremony, too. “America’s Everglades is a unifying issue,” the foundation declared in a press release, announcing its plan to fund a series of radio and television ads that would “educate the public” about this vital new project.
The event’s emcee lauded Ron DeSantis, who was making his first public appearance after shelving his presidential campaign. “It’s his direction we follow, it’s his vision that we execute,” he said, “and it’s a big vision.” This man-made marsh was supposed to be an example. At 6,500 acres, the emcee noted, it was bigger than all Florida’s theme parks combined. He did not mention the science that suggested that DeSantis’s vision might need to be far bigger still. The sky was overcast—a reminder that the spring rains were coming. Lake Okeechobee was too full already, so it was clear that this year, once more, the canals would open. Soon enough, anyone flying over Florida could see the signs of one more crisis: electric-green ribbons of algae-choked water, bound for the coast.
This article was produced in collaboration with the Food and Environment Reporting Network, an independent, nonprofit news organization.
