Public lands are more than lines on a map. They are the wild, beating heart of these United States. They are living systems that house watersheds that nourish rivers, corridors that keep wildlife on the move, and the sacred spaces that remind us of who we are. Public lands are also nature’s infrastructure: they do the heavy lifting of carbon storage and water filtration without sending us a bill. Today, however, our treasured public lands are under siege.
For 25 years, the Roadless Area Conservation Rule has stood as a shield for the most intact forests we have left. Now, federal leaders want to scrap it. They claim it’s about "forest health" or "local control." After two decades in public lands advocacy and wildlife protection, I can tell you this is just smoke and mirrors. This proposal relies on the dangerous ignorance of how forests function.
When the Roadless Rule was finalized in 2001, it wasn't a backroom deal. It followed one of the largest public engagement processes in history — with 600 public hearings — and halted new roads and industrial logging on roughly 58 million acres. These aren't random patches of trees; they’re the last unfragmented forests in the lower 48. In a world defined by environmental chaos, these lands aren't "surplus." They are life rafts.
You don’t have to look far to see the stakes. Just look at the Nantahala–Pisgah National Forests.
These ancient mountains hold some of the most biologically rich temperate forests on the planet, harboring more tree species than all of Europe combined. They’re home to Appalachian brook trout, Eastern hellbenders, black bears and cerulean warblers. Roadless areas here protect everything from high-elevation peaks to the headwaters that supply drinking water to millions. They offer a solitude that’s vanishing from the East Coast.
Critics argue that the rule hinders wildfire mitigation or hurts rural economies. Science says otherwise. Building more roads doesn’t "fireproof" a forest; it does the opposite. Roads fragment the landscape, invite invasive species and ruin streams. Worse, they act as fuses. Study after study confirms that most wildfires start near roads and development, not in the deep backcountry.
Then there’s the wildlife. You can’t fragment a habitat and expect the ecosystem to hold together. Roads sever migration routes and drive population declines. Roadless areas are ecological anchors, sanctuaries where species find refuge as patterns shift. If we cut ourselves loose from these anchors, the entire network drifts.
There is also a simple matter of democracy. During the last public comment period in fall 2025, more than 600,000 Americans weighed in. The result was overwhelming. Ninety-nine percent opposed repealing the rule. Hunters, anglers, Tribes and business owners all said the same thing: Leave these forests alone.
The cry for "local control" rings hollow. Repealing these protections doesn’t empower local communities; it empowers extractive industries to operate with less oversight. We already have locally driven restoration through stewardship projects and prescribed burns. We don’t need a repeal for that. A repeal is a blunt instrument wielded for political convenience.
Let’s be clear: rescinding the Roadless Rule isn't stewardship. It’s a retreat. It is a concession to an outdated extraction mindset that sacrifices public inheritance for private gain.
There is a better way. We should be investing in restoration that respects ecological limits. Real progress requires expanding prescribed fire, supporting Indigenous management and funding local stewardship. We must treat ecosystem disruption as the primary threat and ecological restoration as the opportunity. This starts with conserving intact habitats and roadless areas.
The roadless forests of the Nantahala and Pisgah forests are national treasures held in trust for the future. If we want a world that is resilient and alive, we must protect the wild heart of America’s public lands.
I call on Secretary of Agriculture Brooke Rollins to consider the rule’s indispensable role in safeguarding species and supporting the well-being of Americans, and I implore everyone who cares about our forests to raise their voices in defense of the Roadless Rule. Rescinding it would leave wildlife, cultural heritage and clean drinking water vulnerable to long-lasting harm for generations. The choice is ours. It’s time to take a stand for public land.
Ben Prater is the Southeast Program Director for Defenders of Wildlife and has lived in the Asheville area for more than 20 years, dedicating his career to protecting and restoring wildlife and public lands and working alongside communities, partners, and decision-makers to secure lasting conservation results.
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