The scale of the crisis
Dear Editor,
Jamaica’s squatter problem is staggering in its scope. According to the Ministry of Economic Growth and Job Creation, approximately 754 informal settlements dot the island, with Kingston and St Andrew hosting the highest concentration (over 200), followed by St Catherine (120). Rural areas account for 62 per cent of these settlements, while urban parishes house 35 per cent.
The National Squatter Survey, launched in 2019 with $37.8 million from the National Housing Trust (NHT), revealed that 30,097 households had been surveyed by 2022, with 35 per cent of the data processed. These settlements house an estimated 600,000 people — equivalent to the population of a mid-sized city — living without legal title, often in precarious conditions.
Economically, squatting locks residents out of formal markets. Without titles, squatters cannot use land as collateral for loans, stifling entrepreneurship and wealth creation. Reports are that informal settlements depress property values in surrounding areas by up to 15 per cent, deterring investment and real estate development.
Environmentally, the impact is dire: 40 per cent of settlements are in ecologically sensitive zones, such as flood-prone riverbanks or watersheds, like Norbrook, St Andrew, where 520 acres of critical land are occupied.
Socially, these communities are often stigmatised, with 25 per cent of settlements linked to high crime rates, including utility theft and gang activity, according to police data from 2021.
The Economic and Social Toll
The squatter crisis is a microcosm of Jamaica’s broader economic challenges. With a gross domestic product per capita of $6,047 (2023, World Bank) and 17 per cent of the population below the poverty line, affordable housing remains out of reach for many.
Rural-urban migration, driven by the decline of agricultural jobs, has swollen urban slums. The NHT, tasked with providing low-cost housing, delivered only 3,000 units annually between 2015 and 2020, against a demand for 20,000. This gap fuels squatting, as families seek survival over legality.
Socially, the crisis breeds instability. Informal settlements often lack basic services — 60 per cent have no access to proper sanitation and 30 per cent lack reliable electricity, per the 2019 survey. These conditions foster resentment and crime, with settlements like Flanker in Montego Bay becoming flashpoints for violence, as seen in the 1994 riots over evictions.
Politically, squatting is a tinderbox. Administrations have historically tolerated, or even encouraged, settlements for votes, only to face backlash when enforcing evictions.
Environmentally, the stakes are existential. Settlements in flood-prone areas, like Portland’s riverbanks, face increasing risks from climate change, with hurricanes costing Jamaica $1.2 billion in damage from 2004 to 2018. Deforestation and improper waste disposal in squatter communities exacerbate these vulnerabilities, threatening both residents and the island’s ecological balance.
A Legacy of Injustice
Jamaica’s squatter crisis is a legacy of colonial dispossession. The concentration of land in the hands of a few left the majority landless. Post-independence governments inherited this inequity but struggled to redistribute land effectively. Programmes like Operation Pride (1994) aimed to formalise settlements but faltered due to bureaucratic inefficiencies and political patronage.
The adverse possession law, while offering a path to ownership, often pits squatters against private landowners, creating legal battles that inflame tensions.
This is not just an economic issue; it’s a moral one. Squatters are not criminals, they are victims of systemic failure. Yet their presence undermines the property rights of others, creating a zero-sum game where justice for one group often means injustice for another.
The question is not just how to house 600,000 people but how to reconcile competing claims to land in a nation scarred by inequality.
A Call to Vision
Jamaica’s squatter crisis is a wound that festers at the heart of the nation, but it is not intractable. The solutions proposed here require political will, financial commitment, and a rejection of the status quo that has allowed squatting to persist. They demand a Jamaica that sees its people not as trespassers but as partners in progress.
The Government must act decisively, not with bulldozers but with blueprints for a better future. By investing in housing, regularising land, protecting the environment, reforming laws, and empowering communities, Jamaica can transform its squatter crisis into an opportunity for inclusive growth.
The alternative — inaction — risks deepening inequality, fuelling unrest, and betraying the promise of a nation born from resilience.
Janiel McEwan
janielmcewan17@gmail.com