The Monument Wars: When Politics Collide with Preservation
There’s something deeply symbolic about the way national monuments have become political battlegrounds. Take Bears Ears and Grand Staircase-Escalante in Utah—two sprawling landscapes that have been shrunk, restored, and reshaped like pieces on a presidential chessboard. What makes this particularly fascinating is how these places aren’t just geological wonders; they’re sacred sites for Native American tribes, prehistoric treasure troves, and symbols of America’s complex relationship with its land.
The Antiquities Act: A Double-Edged Sword
At the heart of this drama is the Antiquities Act of 1906, a law that gives presidents the power to protect federal lands with the stroke of a pen. Personally, I think this act is both brilliant and problematic. On one hand, it’s a lifeline for sites that might otherwise be lost to development or looting. On the other, it’s a tool that can be wielded—or abused—depending on who’s in the Oval Office. Theodore Roosevelt, the act’s champion, used it to protect Devils Tower, a site revered by Native tribes and celebrated by scientists. But since then, it’s become a flashpoint for partisan politics.
What many people don’t realize is that shrinking monuments isn’t a Trump-era invention. Woodrow Wilson, Harry Truman, and even Dwight Eisenhower—who reduced six monuments—have all done it. But the scale and intent matter. Trump’s reductions of Bears Ears and Grand Staircase-Escalante weren’t just about land management; they were about prioritizing mining interests over preservation. Biden’s restoration of these monuments, meanwhile, felt like a rebuke—a reminder that conservation and cultural heritage shouldn’t be collateral damage in political wars.
Monuments vs. Parks: A Tale of Two Protections
Here’s where things get interesting: national monuments and national parks aren’t the same, though they’re often lumped together. Parks are established by Congress and come with strict protections under the 1916 Organic Act. Monuments, however, are presidential creations, governed by agencies like the Bureau of Land Management. This distinction matters because monuments can be more easily reshaped—and that’s where the trouble begins.
From my perspective, the real issue isn’t whether presidents can shrink monuments (they can), but why they do. Is it to balance conservation with economic interests, or is it a political statement? When Trump reduced Bears Ears by 85%, it wasn’t just about land—it was about signaling to his base that he valued industry over environmentalism. Biden’s reversal wasn’t just about preservation; it was about reclaiming the narrative of who—and what—deserves protection.
The Human Stories Behind the Stones
What this really suggests is that monuments aren’t just about rocks and trees; they’re about people. Biden’s establishment of monuments honoring Emmett Till and the victims of the 1908 Springfield race riot is a powerful example. These aren’t just historical footnotes—they’re reminders of America’s painful past and its ongoing struggle for justice.
One thing that immediately stands out is how these designations force us to confront uncomfortable truths. The Till monument, for instance, isn’t just a memorial; it’s a challenge to a country that still grapples with racial violence. Similarly, protecting Native American sacred sites like those near the Grand Canyon isn’t just about conservation—it’s about acknowledging the original stewards of this land.
The Future of Preservation: A Fragile Balance
If you take a step back and think about it, the back-and-forth over monuments reflects a larger question: Who gets to decide what’s worth saving? Is it the president, Congress, or the communities tied to these lands? The Antiquities Act was meant to be a shield, but it’s become a weapon in the culture wars.
In my opinion, the solution isn’t to abolish the act but to strengthen it. We need clearer guidelines for how and why monuments are created or altered. We also need to involve Indigenous communities and local stakeholders in these decisions. After all, they’re the ones who’ve lived with—and fought for—these lands long before they became political footballs.
Final Thoughts: Beyond the Headlines
The story of Bears Ears and Grand Staircase-Escalante isn’t just about land; it’s about power, identity, and the stories we choose to tell. Personally, I think the real tragedy would be if these places become nothing more than symbols of political division. They deserve better—and so do we.
What this saga really highlights is the fragility of our commitments to preservation. In a world where climate change and development threaten so much, monuments should be a unifying force, not a dividing line. If we can’t agree on what’s worth protecting, what does that say about our values? This raises a deeper question: Are we stewards of the land, or just temporary tenants?
The next time a president picks up a pen to reshape a monument, let’s hope they’re thinking about more than just politics. Because in the end, these aren’t just lines on a map—they’re legacies. And legacies, unlike presidencies, last forever.
