If you’d wandered into an REI store this past February, you might’ve seen it: A tent that could withstand a gale, a water filter that could purify a puddle, and – behind the smiles and fleece vests – a company that had just taken a spectacular detour off its moral map.
It started with a letter. Not the kind that welcomes you to a loyalty program, but one of political endorsement: REI had joined a chorus of outdoor brands supporting Doug Burgum for Secretary of the Interior, a man nominated by Donald Trump, a man whose administration had, shall we say, a “complicated” relationship with public lands.
The backlash was instant. The apology, swift. And what followed – policy reversals, internal reckonings, and a public mea culpa from REI’s new president – was the kind of narrative that unfolds like a topographic map: at first flat, then suddenly steep.
This is a story about misjudged alliances and environmental whiplash. About a co-op with millions of nature-loving members stepping in something it couldn’t just scrape off on a trailhead rock. But mostly, it’s about what happens when brand, belief, and bureaucracy collide.
Who Is Doug Burgum?
Burgum, to those outside the Great Plains, may have sounded like a brand of butter or a side character in a Coen Brothers film. In reality, Doug Burgum is a tech millionaire-turned-politician, the former governor of North Dakota, and, for reasons still unclear to geology and good sense, Donald Trump’s pick to head the Department of the Interior.
Burgum earned his fortune selling Great Plains Software to Microsoft for over a billion dollars – proving he knows how to capitalize. Politically, he styled himself a libertarian-leaning conservative with an outdoorsman’s sheen, which might explain how he caught REI’s eye. He hiked. He camped. He talked about stewardship like he meant it.
But public service has a way of re-casting people. And once Burgum took the reins at Interior, his actions started to look less like stewardship and more like an open season on public land.
The Damage: Trump, Burgum, and the Parks That Paid the Price
To understand why REI’s endorsement was met with fury, you have to understand what Burgum inherited – and accelerated.
During Trump’s first term, the Department of the Interior became a sort of anti-environmental Mad Libs generator. Protected forest? Open it. Monument boundaries? Shrink them. Climate science? Delete tab.
Under Burgum, the policy arc remained – how to put this gently – blunt. The administration lifted restrictions on logging across millions of acres of national forest. National parks were ordered to stay open through budget shortfalls and shutdowns, staffed by skeleton crews, sometimes literally. And public lands were treated less like sacred spaces and more like untapped potential for energy development.
This was the man REI had just endorsed.
Imagine Patagonia backing a coal baron. Or Ben & Jerry’s naming a flavor after ExxonMobil. That’s the level of contradiction we were dealing with.
Why REI Supported Him – And What Went Wrong
REI is a co-op. Not just a brand, not just a retailer, but a 24-million-member democracy of trail runners, climbers, bikers and skiers who believe that nature is sacred and softshell jackets are non-negotiable.
So how did this tribe of eco-conscious enthusiasts end up momentarily backing a nominee tied to a presidential administration best known for deregulation, fossil fuels, and an almost preternatural disdain for science?
Enter: optimism. Or perhaps, naïveté dressed in a puffy vest.
REI, alongside other outdoor companies, signed a letter of support for Doug Burgum’s nomination. They did so on the basis of vague promises: that he understood the importance of outdoor recreation economies, that he had governed a state with large swaths of federal land, and that he once said nice things about conservation in public.
Maybe they believed he’d bring balance. Maybe they thought having a hiker in the Oval’s orbit was better than yet another oil exec. Maybe they’d been camping too high above sea level and forgot that context, like oxygen, is crucial for decision-making.
Whatever the rationale, the reaction came fast – and it hit like a rogue windstorm through a poorly staked base camp.
Customer Backlash and Public Response
The people who shop at REI know how to read a trail sign. And this one screamed, Wrong Way.
REI’s social media pages lit up like a bonfire built with damp wood and bad decisions. Longtime co-op members expressed disappointment, outrage, and – perhaps most tellingly – betrayal.
“How can a company that sells Leave No Trace stickers endorse someone who’s leaving massive traces all over public land?” wrote one member. Others threatened to cancel memberships. Some returned gear. Many simply asked: Why?
The backlash wasn’t performative. It was principled. The outdoor community, as it turns out, doesn’t just care about gear specs and Instagrammable vistas. It cares deeply about stewardship, access, and truth.
And REI, to its credit, listened.
A New President, A New Direction
Enter Mary Beth Laughton.
Laughton, who had joined REI in 2019 as Chief Customer Officer, became the company’s president at what can only be described as a moment of spiritual crisis. She inherited a brand that had always walked the walk, now caught tiptoeing through political quicksand.
It didn’t take long for her to act.
In a video posted to REI’s social media platforms, Laughton issued an unambiguous apology. “We shouldn’t have signed that letter,” she said. “It was a mistake.”
This wasn’t a vague “we regret the confusion” non-apology. It was clear, contrite, and direct. She acknowledged the damage Burgum and the Trump administration had done – and, critically, affirmed REI’s commitment to protecting public lands.
It was the kind of leadership that makes a tent pole stand up straight again after a wind gust.
Click here to see the apology video on Instagram
Brands for Public Lands: REI Finds Its Bearings
In the wake of the endorsement fallout, REI didn’t just apologize. It recalibrated.
Rather than retreat into corporate silence or pump out a flurry of eco-scented press releases, REI chose something bolder: advocacy. Not just supporting it, but building it.
Alongside The Conservation Alliance and a cadre of outdoor brands, REI helped launch Brands for Public Lands, a coalition aimed at doing what bureaucracies wouldn’t – defending access, advocating for responsible land management, and speaking loudly where the Interior Department had gone quiet.
The goal wasn’t just damage control. It was forward motion.
This coalition wasn’t made of just crunchy small shops and niche labels, either. We’re talking about the big players – Patagonia, The North Face, even the more subdued spreadsheet types from Arc’teryx and Osprey. These are the companies that outfit people for Denali climbs and Appalachian thru-hikes – and now, they were lobbying Congress.
Their stance was clear: public lands are not for sale, lease, or liquidation. They’re a birthright.
They pushed for legislative accountability. They demanded that any future Secretary of the Interior – Burgum or otherwise – commit to transparency, community engagement, and actual, enforceable conservation practices.
Suddenly, REI wasn’t just a co-op; it was a counterbalance.
What It All Means: Trust, Leadership, and the Politics of Parks
So where does this leave REI?
In many ways, right where it began: as a beloved brand navigating the tightrope between commerce and conscience. But now, a little wiser. A little bruised. And perhaps a little more honest about how tricky that balancing act really is.
Mary Beth Laughton’s swift apology helped stabilize the tent. But rebuilding trust isn’t a one-and-done summit – it’s a trail that demands consistent steps.
For the outdoor industry, the Burgum affair was a reckoning. It forced companies to reconsider what advocacy really looks like, and whether a brand’s values should ever be negotiable for access or influence.
And for consumers? It was a reminder that the trail to progress doesn’t come with printed maps. You have to read the terrain, feel the weather, and trust the compass that doesn’t just point north – but points true.
Conclusion: Don’t Just Hike the Talk
REI’s misstep was real. So was its course correction.
In a political era where the Department of the Interior can behave like a real estate agent with a drill rig, companies like REI are going to have to do more than sell sustainable water bottles and pitch climate-neutral base layers.
They have to speak up. Show up. And when they mess up, they have to own it – like they did here.
Because public lands don’t defend themselves. And if we want future generations to know what silence sounds like in a grove of sequoias or feel the rush of a glacial river beneath their boots, we’d better make damn sure the people in charge actually care about keeping those places intact.
And next time someone shows up with a smile, a résumé, and a promise to “love the outdoors,” maybe – just maybe – let’s check what’s in their backpack.
Joris Pierrat #Shorts #Golf