Viewpoint: Why state control of grizzlies is the wrong path

David Stalling

I just watched Interior Secretary Doug Burgum stand beside Montana Governor Greg Gianforte and other Western governors and repeat the same tired political talking points about grizzly bears that I've been hearing for years.

Frankly, I'm tired of it.

Once again, the public was told that grizzly bears have "recovered" because their numbers have increased. That sounds simple. It's also profoundly misleading.
Recovery has never been about numbers alone.

Anyone who has spent time studying grizzly bears knows that recovery isn't measured by a head count. It's measured by whether bears have secure habitat, adequate food sources, connected ecosystems, healthy genetics, functioning social structures, and a realistic chance of surviving for generations in an increasingly fragmented and changing world.

Those aren't my standards. They're the standards wildlife biologists have been discussing for decades. They're reflected in the recovery objectives established under the Endangered Species Act.

Yet every time this issue resurfaces, politicians reduce one of the most complex wildlife recovery stories in North America to a single number because it's easier to sell.
I've spent a lifetime in wild country. I've spent countless days and nights alone in grizzly habitat. I've watched bears feeding, traveling, avoiding people whenever possible, raising cubs, and simply being what evolution shaped them to be.

I have also spent years reading everything I could find about grizzly bears and speaking with many of the nation's leading grizzly bear biologists.

My understanding of grizzly bears doesn't come from political speeches or campaign events. It comes from firsthand experience, thousands of hours of observation, conversations with the people who have devoted their careers to studying these animals, and a deep respect for one of North America's greatest surviving wild creatures.

What I heard this week bears little resemblance to the reality I've witnessed.

The facts haven't changed.

Grizzly bears still occupy less than two percent of their historic range in the contiguous United States. Most populations remain genetically isolated from one another. Wildlife scientists have repeatedly warned that long-term connectivity between those populations is essential if grizzlies are to remain healthy far into the future.

Meanwhile, climate change is reshaping mountain ecosystems. Important food sources are changing. Human development continues pushing farther into bear habitat. Roads, subdivisions, energy development, and expanding recreation continue fragmenting the landscapes grizzlies depend upon.

Those aren't signs that recovery is complete. They're signs that conservation is becoming even more challenging.

What frustrates me most is how scientific expertise is routinely dismissed whenever it becomes politically inconvenient.

Secretary Burgum suggested that Montana can manage grizzly bears better simply because Montanans are "on the ground."
It makes for a good sound bite. It just isn't true.

The federal biologists who have spent decades recovering grizzly bears are also on the ground. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service biologists live here. U.S. Forest Service employees live here. National Park biologists live here. Tribal wildlife professionals live here.

They spend their careers monitoring bears, studying habitat, reducing conflicts, and making decisions grounded in science rather than political messaging.

Being a federal employee doesn't mean you're sitting behind a desk in Washington.
It means you're doing the work where the bears actually live.
And let's stop pretending that simply having a Montana, Wyoming or Idaho address makes someone an expert on grizzly bears.

It doesn't.

I've lived in Montana for forty years—long enough to hear every myth, every exaggerated story, every rumor, and every fear-filled tale imaginable about grizzlies. Most of those stories come from locals who have spent very little time around bears, and most collapse under careful scrutiny.

Knowledge comes from studying wildlife honestly, respecting evidence, and being willing to change your views when the facts demand it.

That brings me to one of the people whose opinion deserves far more attention than any politician standing behind a podium:

Dr. Chris Servheen spent thirty-five years leading the federal grizzly bear recovery program as the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service's Grizzly Bear Recovery Coordinator and chair of the Interagency Grizzly Bear Committee. Few people alive know more about grizzly bear recovery than he does.
For years, Servheen supported eventually transferring management to the states because he believed they would continue managing bears according to science.

Then he changed his mind.

Why?

Because the facts changed.
After watching increasingly hostile predator policies, growing political interference, and management plans aimed at reducing grizzly numbers rather than ensuring long-term recovery, he concluded that now is not the time to transfer management to the states.

That warning should stop everyone in their tracks.

Servheen has warned that political pressure—not science—is increasingly driving wildlife policy. He has urged that management remain under federal protection until states demonstrate a genuine commitment to conserving grizzly bears and the ecosystems they depend upon.

He has described recent proposals surrounding grizzly and wolf management as a "clown car of absurdities."

Servheen has also repeatedly referred to these politically driven, anti-predator state policies as "barroom biology," arguing that state lawmakers are ignoring decades of scientific research in favor of aggressive measures to reduce predator populations.

Coming from one of the world's foremost grizzly bear experts, that isn't political rhetoric. It's a warning.

Another reality almost never enters this public discussion.

Grizzlies are not only apex predators—they are remarkably restrained animals. They are not as dangerous as all the fear-mongering rhetoric makes them out to be.

The late Dr. David Mattson, one of the country's leading grizzly bear researchers, spent decades studying bear behavior. After years of documenting hundreds of encounters between people and grizzlies, he reached a conclusion that cuts directly against the fear-based narrative so often promoted in politics.
As Mattson famously observed, “grizzly bears display remarkable restraint in the face of human stupidity.”

Think about that for a moment.

Most close encounters end peacefully, even when people make poor decisions. Bears frequently tolerate human mistakes, avoid conflict whenever possible, and leave without incident.

That's not because they're harmless. It's because aggression is usually a last resort, not a first response.

Science has shown that the overwhelming majority of grizzly bears are not looking for trouble.
Fear has simply become a more useful political tool than facts.

Grizzlies are apex predators. They did not evolve as prey animals. Population numbers alone tell us very little about whether a grizzly population is truly healthy.

Large predators depend upon stable age structures, intact social hierarchies, breeding behavior, territorial stability, and genetic diversity. Remove dominant bears through hunting or excessive mortality, and those systems begin to unravel.
Research has documented increases in infanticide, changes in breeding behavior, greater movement across landscapes, more conflict among bears, and in some cases more conflict with people.

We've learned similar lessons with wolves.

We've learned them with elk.

Wildlife biology is infinitely more complicated than counting animals.

Yet politicians continue acting as though conservation is nothing more than reaching an arbitrary population target.

It isn't.

The current debate over grizzly bears is not simply about whether protections remain in place. The rule being proposed does not remove grizzly bears from Endangered Species protections, and it does not hand complete management authority over to the states. Yet.

But it does represent a significant shift by giving states much more authority and flexibility over conflict management decisions, including when grizzly bears can be killed. That increased authority is exactly what many state leaders have been seeking, and critics see it as a step toward eventual full state control of grizzly bear management.

The concern is that while federal protections may technically remain, expanded state authority could lead to policies focused more on reducing bear numbers than ensuring long-term recovery.

Wildearth Guardians attorney Lizzy Pennock argues that the practical result will be more grizzly bears being killed.

In other words: It weakens protections for grizzlies at a time grizzlies face increasing threats.

The irony is difficult to ignore.

For thousands of years, Indigenous peoples shared these landscapes with grizzly bears without insisting they dominate every predator they encountered. They developed knowledge, respect, and coexistence.

Modern society too often reaches for control first.

If an animal inconveniences us, we remove it. If it scares us, we kill it. If science gets in the way, we change the policy instead.
That isn't conservation. It's domination.

I've watched this same playbook unfold with wolves.

First comes the fear. Then come the exaggerated stories. Then comes the political messaging. Then come the attacks on scientists. Then comes the demand for state control.
Finally come policies that gradually weaken protections while declaring conservation a success.

We've seen this movie before.

I'm tired of watching science treated like an inconvenience.
I'm tired of watching fear weaponized for political gain.
I'm tired of watching the people who have devoted their lives to studying grizzly bears dismissed because their conclusions don't fit a predetermined political agenda.

Most of all, I'm tired of seeing one of North America's greatest wild animals reduced to a political talking point.

Grizzly bears deserve better. The American people deserve honesty. Conservation deserves integrity.

Recovery means more than counting bears. It means protecting habitat. It means restoring connectivity. It means preserving genetic diversity. It means understanding that apex predators are complex social animals—not numbers on a spreadsheet.

I've spent enough time in grizzly country to know one thing with certainty. The bears aren't the problem. Politics is. And until science—not ideology—once again guides grizzly bear policy, I'll continue speaking up.

Because that's what these magnificent animals deserve.