The Roundup | Crisis of the commons: Public lands and the human story

You can’t make sense of where you’re going without an understanding of where you’ve been. 

That’s the idea behind the three-part series recently published by Aspen Journalism from Paul Andersen, examining the “crisis of the commons” on the American continent and in our backyard, across the arc of history. What we mean by crisis of the commons is that the concept of public lands as we know them today are the result of hundreds of years of conflicting human impulses playing out on an epic scale — at times brutal and greedy, but increasingly as the American project evolved infused with the will to preserve a legacy bigger than any special interest.  

Andersen’s artful storytelling is rooted in literary and historic texts both seminal and obscure as he takes us through the earliest forms of western expansion when 13 British colonies became a new nation. As the ethos of Manifest Destiny became a key national characteristic, indigenous peoples who had occupied — but never owned — the land for thousands of years were subject to a bloody campaign of displacement, and indeed, most of the public land we know today here on the Western Slope and across the greater West, was once promised to tribes in treaties broken or withdrawn. Hordes of settlers encountered a landscape that may have seemed limitless, but which they soon learned could not be left to free-for-all exploitation, lest it become spoiled for future generations. That was the genesis of the U.S. Forest Service and National Forest System lands — that without a management authority to ensure land remained suitable for multiple uses, the treasures we hold as a nation might be lost. However, the public’s willingness to accept that authority was not predetermined — just ask early 20th century White River National Forest rangers who were beaten and shot at for their work enforcing forest regulations. 

The stories, in parts two and three, take us through the creation and evolution of the White River Plateau TImberland Reserve, only the second reserve designated in the U.S. when it was established in 1891. Renamed as the White River National Forest, in 1945 it absorbed the Holy Cross National Forest (established in 1905) to create the largest national forest in Colorado at 2.3 million acres. Thanks to the dozen ski areas dotting the alpine ridges and stunning summer recreation opportunities, today it is the most visited national forest in the country. 

There is much about public lands that we may take for granted today, but which was contested and fought for by generations past. We published this series in the summer of 2025 because history may have brought us to another turning point, when the age-old instinct to privatize the commons has reared its head in new and aggressive ways. Andersen’s writings — supported as is all our coverage this summer and fall of the challenges facing public lands by a grant from the Fund for Investigative Journalism — are a critical primer for anyone who has a stake in the outcome. 

Thank you for taking the time to read up on this and more from our team of local journalists working to give your in-depth perspective you won’t find anywhere else. Stories like these remind me what a privilege it is to edit and publish this work. Thank you for your support, which makes it possible.

– Curtis Wackerle
Editor and Executive Director
Aspen Journalism

Hundreds of years of conflicting impulses playing out on an epic scale 

This three-part series by Paul Andersen examines the notion of public lands, both in the United States and in our region. Part one looked at the earliest expressions of the commons in territories that would become the United States. Parts two and three look at the history and legacy of what is now the White River National Forest. 

More questions than answers surrounding Lincoln Creek contamination 

The headwaters of Lincoln Creek high above Aspen at 11,400 feet, runs clean and clear, but just a few hundred yards downstream, the creek begins to turn foul. It’s hard to pinpoint the exact source — the entire mountainside above Lincoln Creek on the east side is stained orange, suggesting the widespread presence of metals — but a group of scientists, government officials and local nonprofits are ramping up efforts to better understand the workings of the Lincoln Creek watershed and what can be done to improve its water quality. 

A 1990s housing donation leads to The Benedict Apartments

A new 34-unit senior housing complex in Glenwood Springs could have residents by the end of the month. The Benedict Apartments, developed by Catholic Charities, provide affordable one-bedroom units for residents 55 and older earning 30–80% of the area median income. The $23 million project was funded through a mix of public and private sources, including a $2.1 million donation from Fritz and Fabi Benedict made in the 1990s, tax credits, HUD vouchers, state grants and city fee waivers. The development addresses rising housing costs and an aging population. 

Follow us on social media and share stories with your community

• Facebook
• Instagram
• X

local. nonprofit. investigative