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Three years ago, when Utah\u2019s Great Salt Lake was at its lowest levels, state lawmakers were alarmed enough to try what may be impossible: save the lake from drying up.<\/p>\n
If Utah succeeds, it would be the first place in the world to reverse a saline lake\u2019s decline. The salt lake \u2014 the largest in the Western Hemisphere \u2014 once covered an area larger than Rhode Island. Today, more than half its water is gone. About 800 square miles of lake bed sits exposed, baking in the desert heat, sometimes billowing toxic dust plumes across the state\u2019s urban core.<\/p>\n
\u201cFast crises often get more attention than slow crises,\u201d said Brian Steed, the state\u2019s newly appointed Great Salt Lake commissioner, tasked with developing a strategic plan for the lake. \u201cAnd in this case, it\u2019s been a slow crisis until 2022, when we realized how dire the situation was.\u201d<\/p>\n
That year, Joel Ferry, then a lawmaker in the Utah House of Representatives, called for emergency action, saying the depleted lake was an \u201cenvironmental nuclear bomb.\u201d<\/a> A flurry of bills overhauled water laws dating to the pioneer era.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n But the measures the state is pursuing will take decades to reap results, if ever. Critics now say the pace and scale of the efforts must greatly increase. What is at stake, they warn, is a public health disaster, the collapse of an ecosystem that supports millions of migrating birds, and a devastating blow to the state\u2019s tourism, skiing, mining and real estate industries.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n The effects would reach far beyond Utah. Minerals from the lake are used in America\u2019s beverage cans and in fertilizer for much of the world\u2019s organic fruits and nuts. The lake\u2019s brine shrimp eggs support a global seafood industry<\/a>. Dust laden with arsenic and other heavy metals<\/a> could blow across other states. And as climate change intensifies drought across the West, it would also bring accelerated evaporation of the lake.<\/p>\n \u201cThey\u2019ve stated they\u2019ve done enough,\u201d Deeda Seed, a campaigner with the Center for Biological Diversity, a nonprofit group suing the state, said of lawmakers. \u201cIt\u2019s not working.\u201d<\/p>\n Utah has a conservative Republican governor and supermajority in the statehouse, and most legislators bristle at regulation. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n They have been reluctant to constrain the industries that use the most water. Real estate development is a priority in Utah, one of the five fastest-growing states<\/a> in the U.S. last year. Agriculture, and one of its primary cash crops, alfalfa, is the basis of much of Utah\u2019s rural economy. And the dairy and beef industries rely on alfalfa hay to feed cattle.<\/p>\n Utah policymakers tout $1 billion invested in water conservation<\/a> in 2022 and 2023. More than a quarter of that was provided by the federal government, mostly from pandemic-era aid. Separately, about $50 million<\/a> in federal aid meant to restore wetlands and help fund a water-leasing program was paused by the Trump administration. The state recently learned that the money would be released, but it is unclear if there will be any future federal aid for the project.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n For now, the lake\u2019s 20-year decline has stabilized, although that has nothing to do with action by lawmakers. A recent year of record snow replenished mountain streams and reservoirs, allowing more water to flow to the Great Salt Lake. It currently is five feet higher than its all-time low, but it will need to rise another five to attain a minimum healthy elevation.<\/p>\n To reach that level in five years, Mr. Steed\u2019s analysis and strategic plan<\/a> show, all water users in the Great Salt Lake basin would need to cut their consumption by half. The shift would have enormous consequences for the state\u2019s economy.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n \u201cI just don\u2019t think we have political support for that,\u201d Mr. Steed said, \u201cnor do I think we would have public support for that kind of drastic action.\u201d He aims instead to reach the goal in 30 years. To do so, the region would need to free up about enough water to support the equivalent of at least a million households annually.<\/p>\n Making real headway could require tens of millions of dollars every year. Gov. Spencer Cox requested $16 million<\/a> this year for the state to buy water leases for the lake, but lawmakers approved only $1 million. The governor also sought $650,000 to monitor and begin mitigating the lake bed\u2019s dust. He got less than a quarter of that.<\/p>\n \u201cThe legislative and executive appetite to get water to the lake has absolutely evaporated,\u201d said Ben Abbott, an ecology professor at Brigham Young University and the lead author of a 2023 report<\/a> warning that the lake could disappear in as little as five years.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n For now, the industries most vital to protecting the lake are largely on the sidelines. Some farmers are benefiting from irrigation upgrades partly financed by the state. But only a handful have signed up to lease water that could feed the lake.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n \u201cI certainly don\u2019t want to see the lake dry up and disappear,\u201d said Jason Westover, a farmer who has not joined the leasing effort. \u201cBut I also don\u2019t want my industry that I\u2019ve grown up with and love to be impacted just to prolong the inevitable.\u201d<\/p>\n For developers, it\u2019s mostly business as usual. Lawmakers earmarked $40 million in 2022 for a lake trust meant, in part, to help preserve its wetlands. At the same time, they created an Inland Port Authority that has offered state incentives for industrial developers to pave over wetlands in at least four crucial areas.<\/p>\n Brad Wilson, Utah\u2019s Republican former House speaker, who spearheaded many of the policy changes benefiting the Great Salt Lake, is also a prominent real estate developer \u2014 a third of the Legislature has ties to the industry. Housing affordability and water supply will remain the state\u2019s top challenges in perpetuity, he said in an interview.<\/p>\n \u201cWe should continue to have a strategy to ensure we have enough water for our growth,\u201d Mr. Wilson said, \u201cso our kids and grandkids can live here.\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Water flows to the Great Salt Lake through three rivers that collect snow runoff and scour minerals from the Uinta and Wasatch Mountains. It leaves the lake through evaporation, but the minerals remain, making the lake saltier than the ocean.<\/p>\n While climate change has contributed to extensive water shortages in the Southwest, the Great Salt Lake\u2019s decline is mostly human-caused. Agriculture uses 71 percent of the water that would otherwise flow to the lake, and cities use around 17 percent, according to research compiled by the Great Salt Lake Strike Team, a group of climate scientists, policy analysts and state regulators.<\/p>\n Utah lawmakers put a system in place to incentivize water rights holders \u2014 especially farmers \u2014 to repair the watershed. They provided subsidies for more efficient irrigation equipment. The legislators also made it possible for the state, nonprofits or private entities to pay farmers for a temporary lease of the resulting surplus water. In theory, the transaction should be a win-win. The farmer has an incentive to use less water without taking a financial hit \u2014 potentially even making a bigger profit \u2014 while helping the lake recover.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n Lawmakers also funded watershed improvements. The National Audubon Society and the Nature Conservancy manage the trust \u2014 worth $40 million, most of that already spent \u2014 and last year secured 69,000 acre-feet of wetlands for the lake<\/a>, enough water to support about 140,000 households per year. Nearly a third came from a donation<\/a> by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which has a vast real estate portfolio<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n \u201cThis is new,\u201d said Marcelle Shoop, who is helping oversee the trust. \u201cWe\u2019re all trying to figure out the best way to make these voluntary transactions work, both for the farmer and for the environmental purposes.\u201d<\/p>\n While the state grants for irrigation proved popular among farmers, so far, hardly any have agreed to lease their water rights.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re tired of getting a black eye,\u201d said Trevor Nielson, general manager of the Bear River Canal Company, which holds the rights for about 2,000 farmers. \u201cYeah, we use the most water, but we\u2019re also the ones who are literally changing how we do business.\u201d<\/p>\n Agriculture is challenging in Utah, an arid state with terrain that varies from hot deserts to cool mountain valleys. About 65 percent of its land is owned by federal agencies. Farmers have found alfalfa hay, and the cattle that feed on it, to be the most sustainable and profitable food products to produce.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\nRefilling the Lake<\/h2>\n