Montana, a state nestled between the Plains and Pacific Northwest, has been dubbed "the last best place." The nickname was coined to ward off the influx of outside forces that often accompany development. Recently, when Washington D.C. politicians suggested selling federal public lands for development as part of their "big beautiful" budget bill, Montanans from all walks of life rallied together in opposition. This rare display of bipartisan unity may be proof that there are certain issues that can bring Americans together, or it could simply be a delay tactic.
The state's vast landscape is characterized by golden prairies and majestic green mountains, with rivers flowing through its rolling hills. Montana's unique geography has earned it a special place in the hearts of many, symbolizing freedom, possibility, and the great outdoors. For Bryan Mannix, a rancher who has lived on his family's land since 1882, public lands are more than just real estate β they're sacred.
"It starts to feel like land is kin," Mannix says, explaining why he believes that when you spend enough time in nature, it begins to feel like home. His operation relies on a mix of private and federal land, which he views as his responsibility to steward, rather than simply owning.
David Mannix, Bryan's uncle, echoes similar sentiments: "It's not ours; it's just our turn." The Mannix family's experience is shared by many Montanans who view public lands as a collective inheritance that requires careful management and preservation.
The federal government owns approximately 640 million acres of land across the country, with the majority in the West and Alaska. Public lands encompass breathtaking national parks, vast tracts for conservation, and valuable resources like ranching, mining, and logging. However, the Trump administration has proposed selling off a significant portion of this land to unlock its value.
The idea is met with resistance from lawmakers and residents alike, who recognize that public lands are not just economic assets but also sacred spaces that provide a sense of identity and community. Montana's unique blend of rural charm and natural beauty makes it the perfect testing ground for this concept.
Utah Senator Mike Lee's proposal to sell up to three million acres of federal land as part of the "big beautiful" budget bill sparked outrage across the state. While some argued that selling public lands could help address housing shortages, many Montanans saw it as an attack on their way of life and a threat to the very essence of what makes the state special.
In response, hunters and hikers came together in solidarity, with phrases like "Not one acre" becoming a rallying cry. Local land management groups, such as the Ruby Valley Strategic Alliance, coordinated efforts to lobby lawmakers and protect public lands.
Despite party divisions, Montana stands as a beacon of bipartisanship on this issue. Representative Ryan Zinke's commitment to preserving public lands is seen as a red, white, and blue issue that transcends party lines. He recognizes that selling off land would be equivalent to selling away the country's greatest assets, rather than finding new ways to manage them.
Zinke's stance has been echoed by other lawmakers who recognize the importance of these spaces. However, it remains to be seen whether this stance will be enough to shield public lands from future development pressures.
As Montanans continue to fight for their way of life, they are doing so not just for themselves but for the next generation. For Bryan Mannix, this is about preserving the land that has been in his family for generations, and ensuring that it remains a place where people can connect with nature and find a sense of belonging.
"I think we finally came to realize that we all had kinda the same goals in mind," says John Helle, a local sheep rancher. "Save some of the last best places here."
In this story, there are whispers of a new reality β one where development and progress come at a cost to the very land that defines our nation's identity. As Montana stands strong against proposed land sales, we're reminded that the fight for public lands is not just about economics but about what it means to be American.
The state's vast landscape is characterized by golden prairies and majestic green mountains, with rivers flowing through its rolling hills. Montana's unique geography has earned it a special place in the hearts of many, symbolizing freedom, possibility, and the great outdoors. For Bryan Mannix, a rancher who has lived on his family's land since 1882, public lands are more than just real estate β they're sacred.
"It starts to feel like land is kin," Mannix says, explaining why he believes that when you spend enough time in nature, it begins to feel like home. His operation relies on a mix of private and federal land, which he views as his responsibility to steward, rather than simply owning.
David Mannix, Bryan's uncle, echoes similar sentiments: "It's not ours; it's just our turn." The Mannix family's experience is shared by many Montanans who view public lands as a collective inheritance that requires careful management and preservation.
The federal government owns approximately 640 million acres of land across the country, with the majority in the West and Alaska. Public lands encompass breathtaking national parks, vast tracts for conservation, and valuable resources like ranching, mining, and logging. However, the Trump administration has proposed selling off a significant portion of this land to unlock its value.
The idea is met with resistance from lawmakers and residents alike, who recognize that public lands are not just economic assets but also sacred spaces that provide a sense of identity and community. Montana's unique blend of rural charm and natural beauty makes it the perfect testing ground for this concept.
Utah Senator Mike Lee's proposal to sell up to three million acres of federal land as part of the "big beautiful" budget bill sparked outrage across the state. While some argued that selling public lands could help address housing shortages, many Montanans saw it as an attack on their way of life and a threat to the very essence of what makes the state special.
In response, hunters and hikers came together in solidarity, with phrases like "Not one acre" becoming a rallying cry. Local land management groups, such as the Ruby Valley Strategic Alliance, coordinated efforts to lobby lawmakers and protect public lands.
Despite party divisions, Montana stands as a beacon of bipartisanship on this issue. Representative Ryan Zinke's commitment to preserving public lands is seen as a red, white, and blue issue that transcends party lines. He recognizes that selling off land would be equivalent to selling away the country's greatest assets, rather than finding new ways to manage them.
Zinke's stance has been echoed by other lawmakers who recognize the importance of these spaces. However, it remains to be seen whether this stance will be enough to shield public lands from future development pressures.
As Montanans continue to fight for their way of life, they are doing so not just for themselves but for the next generation. For Bryan Mannix, this is about preserving the land that has been in his family for generations, and ensuring that it remains a place where people can connect with nature and find a sense of belonging.
"I think we finally came to realize that we all had kinda the same goals in mind," says John Helle, a local sheep rancher. "Save some of the last best places here."
In this story, there are whispers of a new reality β one where development and progress come at a cost to the very land that defines our nation's identity. As Montana stands strong against proposed land sales, we're reminded that the fight for public lands is not just about economics but about what it means to be American.