Public Lands Are in Trouble—And Outdoor Lovers Need to Step Up | Op-Ed

If you’ve ever stood on a fire lookout tower at dawn, paddled a river through high desert canyons, or simply escaped to a local trailhead for a few hours of peace, you already know: America’s public lands are sacred. They’re where we go to breathe, to reset, to remember what really matters.

But they’re also under increasing threat—and if we want to keep them wild and accessible, it’s time for all of us who love the outdoors to step up and speak up.

Right now, federal public lands—over 600 million acres managed by agencies like the National Park Service (NPS), Bureau of Land Management (BLM), and U.S. Forest Service (USFS)—are facing a dangerous mix of neglect, overuse, and exploitation.

The challenges range from crumbling infrastructure to extractive industry pressure, and the consequences are already showing up in overcrowded national parks, closed trails, degraded ecosystems, and lost access.

Let’s start with the basics: staff and funding. Park rangers, trail crews, wildlife biologists, maintenance workers, and firefighters are all in short supply. The National Park Service has lost thousands of full-time employees in the past two decades, even as visitation keeps climbing.

The Forest Service and BLM are in the same boat. When there aren’t enough people to maintain trails, enforce protections, or manage wildfires, everything suffers.

The system is also financially underwater. As of this year, the Park Service faces a $23 billion deferred maintenance backlog. Roads are crumbling, restrooms are closed, and historic sites are falling apart. The Great American Outdoors Act was a huge win in 2020, but it’s a temporary fix—not a long-term solution.

Meanwhile, energy and mining interests are expanding their footprint, often at the expense of the landscapes we love. Millions of acres of public land are open to oil and gas leasing, including areas near national parks, critical wildlife habitat, and Indigenous cultural sites. Mining claims—enabled by a law written in 1872—still require no royalties to taxpayers and minimal environmental oversight.

To be clear, energy is a necessary part of our economy—but public lands shouldn’t be treated like sacrifice zones. Even renewables, if poorly planned, can wreak havoc on fragile desert and sagebrush ecosystems. We need smarter siting, stronger protections, and a serious conversation about what “responsible development” really means.

But perhaps the most existential threat of all? Privatization. Some politicians and lobbying groups continue to push for transferring federal lands to state or private control under the guise of “local management.” Don’t buy it.

States typically don’t have the resources to manage vast landscapes, and once transferred, lands are far more likely to be sold, locked behind gates, developed for real estate, or opened up for industrial use.

Translation: your favorite backcountry hunting area, climbing crag, remote campsite, or even local hiking trail could be gone for good. Once they’re gone, they’re gone forever.

This isn’t just a policy issue—it’s a values issue. Public lands are one of the few truly democratic institutions we have left. They’re for everyone, regardless of zip code, gender, race, or income. They’re places of refuge, recreation, cultural significance, and healing. Losing them means losing a part of who we are as Americans.

The good news? Outdoor lovers are a powerful constituency.

We’re hikers, mountain bikers, hunters, anglers, climbers, campers, paddlers, birders, photographers, and painters. We’re retirees RVing around the country, young families on their annual vacation; we’re weekend wanderers and after-work dog walkers.

We vote, we organize, and we care deeply about the places that give us so much.

So, what can we do?

• Support full funding and staffing for the agencies that protect these lands.
• Push for new conservation legislation and real reforms to outdated laws like the 1872 Mining Act.
• Respect and elevate Indigenous stewardship of ancestral territories.
• Fight back against privatization efforts, however subtle.
• And speak up—at public meetings, in letters and phone calls to lawmakers, in our communities, and at rallies.

Public lands don’t have a lobby. But they do have us.

And if we want to keep chasing sunrises, finding solace in the wild, and passing these places down to the next generation, we need to get loud. Now.