The recent decision by President Trump to significantly reduce the size of the Grand Staircase-Escalante and Bears Ears national monuments has stirred a complex debate among those who cherish the American West. For many hunters, anglers, and outdoor enthusiasts, the announcement was expected, yet the immediate aftermath has left them frustrated. Rather than receiving a detailed roadmap for how millions of acres of newly “unprotected” land will be managed—specifically regarding critical issues like wildfire prevention and invasive weed control—these stakeholders are instead finding themselves caught up in a cycle of fact-checking the very rhetoric used to justify the move.
The confusion stems from a disconnect between the reality on the ground and the messages delivered during the signing ceremony. When President Trump claimed that within the monument boundaries, “you can’t do anything,” including hunting, fishing, or even walking, he was met with affirmation from administration officials. However, for those who actually utilize these lands, this is demonstrably untrue. Hunting, fishing, and hiking have always been permitted within these monuments—a fact clearly outlined in Utah’s own state hunting guides. By characterizing these lands as “locked up” and inaccessible, critics argue that the administration is relying on a narrative that ignores the practical, everyday reality of how these public spaces are currently enjoyed by citizens.
This rhetoric has drawn swift, pointed criticism from organizations like Backcountry Hunters & Anglers. Ryan Callaghan, the group’s CEO, has called for a return to “facts over politics,” emphasizing that when high-ranking officials make sweeping decisions about our nation’s public resources, the public deserves a baseline of accuracy. For the 35,000 members this organization represents, the frustration isn’t merely about ideological differences; it is about a lack of transparency and competence. When the primary justification for a major policy shift is built upon “blatant misinformation,” it undermines the public’s trust and distracts from the serious, nuanced conversations that need to happen regarding the future of wildlife habitats and land use.
The stakes, according to those who spend their time in these landscapes, are incredibly high. While proponents of the downsizing—including Governor Spencer Cox and members of Utah’s congressional delegation—argue that the move promotes “multiple-use” and improves access, there is deep-seated anxiety about what that “use” will actually look like. Many fear that by removing monument status, these areas will become more vulnerable to rapid industrialization. The looming potential for increased mining operations, expanded gas exploration, and the construction of new roads threatens to permanently alter the character of what are currently quiet, pristine wilderness areas.
One such voice is Caleb Stroh, an avid hunter who cherishes the silence and biological richness of Bears Ears. For him, the prospect of increased motor vehicle traffic or industrial development is not a sign of “improved access,” but rather a threat to the sport he loves. He points out that the true value of these lands lies in their solitude and ecological integrity. When you carve out roads for ATVs or prioritize extractive industries, you inevitably destroy the quietude that makes these places meaningful to sportsmen. For people like Stroh, the government’s focus on opening up the land seems to prioritize short-term industrial gain over the long-term health of the ecosystem.
Ultimately, the clash over these monuments is a microcosm of a much larger struggle for the soul of the American public lands system. While state officials argue they are reclaiming land for the people, conservation-minded hunters and anglers see a dangerous erosion of stewardship. They are not asking for these lands to be off-limits; they are asking that when changes are made, they be based on a shared understanding of what these places are and how they are used. As the federal government pushes to accelerate permitting and curb regulations on forest and monument lands, a significant portion of the public is left feeling that their voices—and the facts they hold dear—are being sidelined in favor of an agenda that may permanently change the western landscape for the worse.