In the heart of New York City — one of the most valuable real estate markets in the world — 843 acres remain untouched, protected as Central Park. Sold to private businesses and developers, it could be worth billions of dollars. However, it is protected because New Yorkers have understood that its greatest value is not measured in potential tax revenues or GDP contributions, but its intrinsic values and emergent properties, which, although unaccountable to economists, underpin the city’s financial growth and improve the well-being of its residents. It’s the lungs, sanctuary and shared soul of the city, and critically, is free to all.
Here on Utah’s capital doorstep, the Wasatch Front Canyons — Big Cottonwood Canyon, Little Cottonwood Canyon and Millcreek Canyon — offer unmatched access to protected wilderness, our irreplaceable sanctuary of natural wealth no market can replace. Portions remain free to everyone, one of our last true equalizers, while four ski resorts also add value by converting nature’s wealth into recreation, mainly for those who can pay the market-driven price.
Development to this point in the Cottonwood Canyons already provides the best of what the canyons can offer for the haves and the have-nots, but like it or not, we are trapped in an economic system in service to finance. Unending growth is required for this system to endure, resulting in building as the goal; revered as the solution to all quality-of-life aspirations, even while furthering unintended consequences like congestion, pollution, inequality and the loss of refuge from nature. While the ski resorts provide a carefully measured financial contribution to Utah’s GDP, the emergence of the mountain resort private equity stakeholder model poses a predicament for our sanctuary.
Our definition of progress and prosperity continues to be measured by growth that can be calculated in dollars and GDP, but — and this is crucial — Utah’s measurable economic engine rides atop something much more foundational. Our canyons’ wilderness, healthy ecosystem and source of drinking water, with its proximity to the Wasatch Front, are what drive relocation, attract talent, enable well-being and undergird Utah’s long-term economic resilience — factors that remain invisible in GDP, yet are arguably even more valuable.
The inclination to further entangle our canyons in pursuit of measurable growth is not a bug of the system; it’s a feature. Any growth model naturally seeks to perpetuate itself, while the future unintended consequences are conveniently dismissed as too complicated to anticipate. If we’re to make clear decisions about the future of our canyons, we must first acknowledge a simple fact: this economic system is deeply intertwined in them. This isn’t about good or bad, but about recognizing a reality often obscured by the dominant narrative of growth.
So then, how has Central Park been protected from such entanglement within this prevailing economic system? What principles or disciplines enable their wisdom to protect it despite the need for endless growth? Does New York, the financial capital of the world, understand intrinsic values in a way we are blind to?
No responsible steward would drain the principal of a trust fund to cover short-term expenses — yet that’s exactly what further canyon development would do. Protection of the existing balance of undeveloped and developed areas in our canyons from more development is not an obstacle to growth; it is the foundation beneath it, the natural infrastructure generating steady democratic dividends in clean water, outdoor tradition, quality of life and talent attraction. A vote to further develop is a vote against that rare common ground. Once spent, these assets can’t be replenished, and no future legislature can buy them back at any price.
Despite the entanglement of private equity-owned businesses in our canyons, the difference between Central Park’s ongoing protection and our canyons’ uncertain future is simple: New York recognizes the value of their sanctuary beyond measurable dollars, while we still struggle to see the wealth that can’t be tallied on a balance sheet.
Utah’s leaders now face the same test. Will we safeguard the very foundation of our prosperity from the realities of our economic system, or will we be remembered as the generation that cashed out our inheritance, left our children with the bill and lost the very thing that enables Salt Lake City to grow as a beautiful place?