Florida's Infrastructure Cash Ignores the Communities That Need It Most

Florida's latest economic push, a $14.5 million infusion through the Job Growth Grant Fund, arrived with the kind of fanfare that demands attention. Announced with pride, the funds target infrastructure and workforce training, promising to bolster industries like aerospace and manufacturing. At first glance, it feels like a step forward, a nod to the idea that government can play a vital role in sparking opportunity. Indian River State College will train industrial workers, Miami Dade College will churn out aircraft mechanics, and Wakulla County will expand its manufacturing hub. These are tangible projects, rooted in real needs.

Yet, beneath the surface, a nagging question lingers: who exactly benefits? The grants, framed as a win for job seekers and businesses, seem to prioritize industries already thriving, while sidestepping the deeper inequities that plague Florida’s economy. For every dollar spent on a new training program, there’s a missed opportunity to address the systemic barriers that keep entire communities locked out of prosperity. The state’s approach, while flashy, feels like a half-measure in a moment that demands bold, inclusive vision.

This isn’t about dismissing the value of infrastructure or skills training. These are critical pieces of the economic puzzle. But when the puzzle is assembled with only certain players in mind, the picture remains incomplete. Florida’s leaders have a chance to redefine what economic development means, to ensure it lifts everyone, not just the well-connected or the already advantaged. Instead, this latest round of grants feels like business as usual, a safe bet on familiar industries rather than a transformative leap toward equity.

The stakes are high. With a national skills gap widening and infrastructure crumbling, states like Florida have a chance to lead. But leadership requires courage, a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths about who gets left behind. As we unpack this announcement, it’s worth asking: is this really the best we can do?

Workforce training, a cornerstone of Florida’s grants, is undeniably urgent. Nearly 70% of HR professionals nationwide report a skills gap, a problem that’s only grown since 2021. In Florida, where manufacturing and aerospace are poised for growth, the need for skilled workers is acute. Indian River State College’s new training institute and Miami Dade College’s aircraft mechanic programs aim to fill this gap, churning out workers ready for high-demand jobs. On paper, it’s a smart move, aligning education with industry needs.

But the reality is messier. These programs, while promising, risk becoming elite pipelines for a select few. Access to training often hinges on geography, finances, or prior education, barriers that disproportionately affect low-income communities and people of color. Historical data backs this up: workforce development programs, when not deliberately inclusive, tend to favor those already positioned to succeed. California’s recent push to boost workforce funding by 11% for pre-apprenticeships and sector-based programs shows what’s possible when equity is prioritized. Florida’s grants, by contrast, lack that explicit commitment.

Then there’s the question of scope. The skills gap isn’t just about technical know-how; it’s about digital literacy, adaptability, and lifelong learning. One-third of U.S. workers lack foundational digital skills, a gap that hits hardest in underserved areas. Florida’s programs, narrowly focused on specific trades, don’t address this broader crisis. A truly forward-thinking approach would pair technical training with wraparound supports, like childcare or transportation, to ensure everyone can participate. Without that, these grants risk being a Band-Aid on a wound that needs surgery.

Advocates for a fairer economy argue that workforce investments must prioritize those left behind by technological change and systemic exclusion. The state’s failure to embed equity in its training programs isn’t just a missed opportunity; it’s a betrayal of the workers who need these opportunities most. Meanwhile, the industries receiving these benefits will likely keep humming along, reaping profits while the gap between haves and have-nots widens.

Infrastructure, the other pillar of Florida’s grants, is equally fraught. The $2.1 million for Sebring’s roadway improvements and $3.5 million for Wakulla County’s manufacturing buildings signal a commitment to logistics and industry. These projects will streamline business operations, no doubt, and create jobs in the process. The nation’s infrastructure needs are staggering, with a $9.1 trillion price tag to bring everything up to par. Florida’s contribution, modest as it is, aligns with the broader push sparked by the 2021 Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act.

But infrastructure isn’t just about roads and buildings; it’s about who gets to use them. The Sebring project, for instance, prioritizes a logistics corridor, which benefits businesses but does little for residents struggling with inadequate public transit or crumbling local roads. Wakulla’s new buildings will expand manufacturing, but without a clear plan to ensure those jobs reach local workers, the benefits may flow to outsiders or larger firms. Historical trends show that infrastructure investments often bypass disadvantaged communities unless equity is baked into the plan from the start.

Opponents of this approach, including some policymakers, argue that infrastructure spending should focus on market efficiency, letting businesses drive growth. They’d say Florida’s grants are doing exactly that, creating conditions for private investment. But this perspective ignores the human cost. When infrastructure prioritizes corporate needs over community needs, it reinforces inequality. The 2025 ASCE Report Card gave U.S. infrastructure a C, a step up, but it also highlighted how underserved areas still bear the brunt of neglect. Florida’s grants, by focusing on industry hubs, risk perpetuating that pattern.

There’s a different path available, one that Florida’s leaders seem reluctant to take. State investments could be a powerful tool for leveling the playing field, but only if they’re designed with intention. Look at the Economic Development Administration’s work: between 2012 and 2021, it invested $5.3 billion in projects that boosted earnings and employment, often in distressed areas. The key? A focus on collaboration, transparency, and targeting resources where they’re needed most. Florida’s grants, while competitive, lack that same rigor in prioritizing equity or long-term resilience.

What would a better approach look like? For starters, training programs could include explicit outreach to underrepresented groups, with funding for support services to remove barriers. Infrastructure projects could prioritize community needs, like public transit or broadband, alongside business corridors. And the state could require grant recipients to report on how their projects serve disadvantaged populations, ensuring accountability. These aren’t radical ideas; they’re proven strategies that states like New York and California have already embraced.

The counterargument, often pushed by those focused on fiscal restraint, is that such requirements add bureaucracy and slow progress. But this ignores the cost of inaction. Inequality isn’t just a moral failing; it’s an economic drag. When workers can’t access training or communities are cut off from opportunity, everyone loses. Florida’s own data proves the point: despite leading in new business formations, the state’s wage growth lags for low-income workers. A rising tide only lifts all boats if everyone has a seat.

Florida’s $14.5 million in grants is a start, but it’s not enough. The state has a chance to redefine economic development, to make it a force for inclusion rather than a continuation of the status quo. This means rethinking who benefits from public investments and how those benefits are distributed. It means recognizing that a strong economy isn’t just about job numbers; it’s about who gets to share in the prosperity.

As the nation grapples with a skills gap, aging infrastructure, and persistent inequality, Florida could lead by example. But that requires courage, a willingness to challenge entrenched priorities and invest in people, not just profits. The current approach, while well-intentioned, falls short of that vision. It’s time for a bolder, fairer path, one that ensures every Floridian has a stake in the future.