Opinion: Rural America needs Congress to require data center developers and the federal government to disclose plans

Nondisclosure agreements leave community members in the dark.
(Photo by Daniel Bernard, Unsplash)

When urban and suburban Americans don't want to live near an institution or business designed to address a larger societal problem, they send it to rural America. Prisons, power plants and landfills are a few examples, writes Rotimi Adeoye in his opinion for The New York Times. "These days, two more intrusions have been added to the list: immigrant detention centers and data centers. … Congress should address this problem."

While it may seem logical to assume the federal government would be required to share information with smaller townships before purchasing large buildings or tracts of land in town, that isn't the case.

In Tremont, Pa., a tiny town with roughly 300 people, the federal government purchased "a 1.3-million-square-foot warehouse that had been a Big Lots distribution center" to repurpose into an immigration center designed to hold 7,500 detainees, Adeoye writes. By the time the township's supervisor learned of the sale, the deed had already been signed.

In other instances, small-town residents learn that a hyperscale data center is being planned in their community only when rezoning paperwork is filed. Nondisclosure agreements between data center developers, landowners and town officials enable companies to keep area residents in the dark.

In both cases, transactions are "intended to be finished long before the people who would have to live with the consequences could ask questions about what was being planned," Adeyoe adds.

To help rural Americans know and have some agency in deciding what gets built in their communities, Adeyoe suggests that Congress "require companies planning large-scale facilities to publicly disclose who they are and what they intend to build before they seek to change how the land is used, and to notify local governments before acquiring property in their communities. … The same principle applies to federal agencies."

Requiring public disclosure does not mean that a detention or data center facility won't eventually be constructed in a rural community, but it "would stop it from being built in secret," Adeyoe adds. "Rural communities are often fighting both kinds of facilities simultaneously, often without knowing who they are fighting or why, because neither the federal government nor private developers are currently required to tell them anything before the decisions are made."

Q&A: Rural places have always played a part in U.S. immigration and deportation

Brianna Nofil

When the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency began conducting large immigration raids outside metropolitan areas in 2025, there was not enough housing space for detainees, so U.S. Immigration Services worked to address the issue by partnering with rural law enforcement. The partnership isn't new -- USIS has long relied on rural towns to help it jail and deport illegal immigrants.

In her Q&A with Betsy Froiland of The Daily Yonder, historian and author of the 2024 book The Migrant’s Jail: An American History of Mass Incarceration, Brianna Nofil "shares her research on how immigrant detention infrastructure has impacted small towns across America." An edited version of their interview is shared below.

Q: Can you begin by sharing how rural places initially became involved in the conversation of immigrant detention?
A: Almost from its inception, the U.S. Immigration Service relied on rural communities to help it arrest and deport illegal migrants. When USIS stepped up its deportation efforts in the early 1900s, its leadership discovered that USIS lacked enough housing for all its detainees. Nofil explains, "So they began talking to sheriffs. They say to these local sheriffs, ‘listen,' immigration law enforcement isn’t your job, but if you are willing to rent us some beds in your local jail, we will pay you for that.'"

At that time, many rural sheriffs didn't have strong feelings about immigration; however, they did "see an opportunity to make some money," Nofil adds. "So some rural communities start renting jail beds to the Immigration Service. This gives the Immigration Service flexibility. Migrant routes are constantly changing. . . .Control of local rural jails allows them to pivot infrastructure as the movement of people changes."

Q: Does immigrant detention change in rural places by the end of the 20th century?
Yes. In the 1980s, USIS "decided to build the first immigration prisons, co-run by the Immigration Service and the Bureau of Prisons, from the ground up. So they’re no longer just borrowing infrastructure: they’re actually building permanent deportation infrastructure," Nofil told the Yonder. "There are massive internal battles about where they should put the first site because it’s going to set the tone for what this new detention system is going to look like."

In the end, USIS decides on rural Oakdale, Louisiana. Nofil explains, "They figure their work would be more distant from legal aid, even more out of the limelight. They’re quite explicit about the value they see rural space having in terms of limiting both public attention and migrants’ access to assistance."

Q: How have different rural communities been impacted by these detention sites economically?
At least in the beginning, when ICE really needs a location, some towns do reap some economic benefits, but the benefits don't always last. Nofil adds, "This is not something that any community can reliably bank on because they’re basically being asked to predict future federal behavior and future global migration flows, which is impossible. That makes it a particularly treacherous industry to link a community’s financial future to."

Read the entire interview here.

'No Kings' protests in rural Minnesota highlight changes in some residents' opinions

Faribault residents Matthew, left, and Sarah said they wanted to protest
local ICE activity. (Photo by Betsy Froiland,The Daily Yonder) 

Immigration and Customs Enforcement raids, cost of living increases and the U.S. war in Iran have moved some rural Minnesotans to speak out for change. "Minnesotans in small towns across the state joined the third wave of nationwide ‘No Kings’ protests Saturday, March 28," reports Betsy Froiland of The Daily Yonder.

Although some rural residents protested the Trump administration's immigration policies in October, many didn't feel called to action until ICE conducted aggressive raids and searches in smaller Minnesota towns, such as Faribault, Windom and St. James in early 2026.

Protesters from all three towns "reported escalated ICE activity in their communities in recent months," Froiland explains. "Many told stories of neighbors arrested, local businesses shuttered, and fear spreading in their schools and workplaces."

While the number of protesters who lined the streets of their respective towns was small, their growing numbers and repeated presence mark a change in areas that voted for President Donald Trump in 2024.  

"Some protesters wondered what happened to due process, like Travis McColley, a lifelong Republican who joined the protest in Faribault," Froiland reports. McColley told the Yonder, “People who have been in the community for years who are going through an asylum process are getting grabbed."

Beyond ICE activities, rural Minnesotans also protested against the war in Iran, cost of living increases and overall frustration with Washington. Froiland writes, "Faribault protester Norm Kokes, a ‘No Kings’ protester and a U.S. military veteran, worried about how the war would impact the world economy."

A St. James protester told Froiland, “I’m dissatisfied that billionaires are trying to run our country, and they’re not going to do anything for the common people."

In some places, protesters were met by counter-protesters driving by or standing across the street. Froiland adds, [Some] "revved their engines and gave middle fingers." Despite the difference in opinions, the protests remained non-violent.

Once a stalwart Republican, this Wisconsin dairy farmer is reconsidering his position because of ICE and immigration

Dairy cows wander and graze on O'Harrow Family Farm acreage.  

For decades, being a Wisconsin dairy farmer and voting Republican went hand in hand for Tim O'Harrow and his family. But GOP immigration politics and Immigration and Customs Enforcement actions are no longer in sync with the O'Harrows' experience and what they feel is moral, reports Sabrina Tavernise for The New York Times. Some family members are considering shifting their political alliances.

"Immigrant workers are the lifeblood of the O’Harrow farm, a four-generation family enterprise with 1,600 cows in northeastern Wisconsin," Tavernise writes. "But many of them will not travel to Mexico to see dying parents, or drive to nearby towns to visit siblings... because they are afraid of being swept up in the Trump administration’s immigration crackdown."

The second Trump administration's approach to immigration doesn't make good business sense to Tim O'Harrow or his son, Joel, who runs the farm. Tavernise explains, "These workers oversee America’s milk. By one estimate, dairies that employ immigrant workers produce 79% of the nation’s milk supply, and the price of milk would double without them."

Tim O'Harrow knows conflicts over undocumented immigrant farm workers aren't a new problem. He's been talking to politicians in Washington and in Madison, Wisconsin, the state's capital city, for 20 years, asking them to create a visa system or path to citizenship for these vital workers. But politics have gone the opposite way.

"Washington has failed to make any meaningful changes, and Republican voters continue to be anti-immigration, particularly those in Wisconsin," Tavernise reports. "That has left the O’Harrows in an uncomfortable place — stuck between what they see as an obvious truth, that immigrants are essential to America’s food supply, and a national political mood hurtling in the other direction."

Tim O'Harrow told the Times, "I don’t know that I’m a Republican anymore. I don’t know what we are anymore.”

Both Tim and his son told the Times they would be open to voting for a Democrat in future elections. Tavernise writes, "And for the first time in 20 years, a Democratic primary will be held in their district, a sign that the party believes it has a chance to flip what has been a solidly Republican seat."

For more explanation on why a stalwart GOP family would consider voting for a Democrat, read the full story here.

After a jarring ICE raid at a horse racing track, residents of a tiny Idaho town measure the aftermath

Agents outside La Catedral Arena, a horse track in Wilder, Idaho, 
Oct. 19, 2025. (Idaho Statesman photo via Mother Jones)

Some residents of Wilder, Idaho, say the town hasn't been the same since federal Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents descended on an off-the-beaten-path horse racing track and detained roughly 100 Latinos who were working or attending the races. 

The horse track, known as La Catedral Arena, had been a place where immigrant families gathered to enjoy food and racing together, reports Anna Griffin of The New York Times. Few whites ever attended the races or questioned track activities.

Wilder is located in Canyon
County, Idaho. (Wikipedia)

Sixty percent of Wilder's 1,725 residents are Latino, and most residents take pride in living in harmony. But on Oct. 19, things changed. ICE agents, including a swarm of gun-toting agents on the ground, a helicopter, and the agency's signature SUVs, descended on the track during the busiest time of day. Agents rounded up nearly 100 Latinos and later deported 75.

The raid did more than "crack an alleged gambling ring and increase deportation numbers," the Times reports. "It shattered Wilder’s innocent belief that its out-of-the-way location and deep-red politics could isolate the town from raids." 

Wilder resident Chris Gross, who farms sweet corn seed and mint, expressed concern about how the raid might limit immigrant farm workers. She told Griffin, "We rely on Hispanic labor." 

"The raid 'nearly destroyed' the community, said David Lincoln, a longtime Wilder resident and executive director of a nonprofit economic development agency serving rural towns in western Idaho," Griffen writes. Griffin adds, "Wilder won’t really know the impact until planting season begins this spring."

The day after the raid, at least half of Wilder's students didn't show up for class. Griffin reports, "Gross, who is white, said anyone who sees a black SUV roll through town, regardless of their race, 'freezes up.'" 

Still, the town's mayor, Steve Rhodes, claims the raid "has had 'zero effect' on the town," He told the Times, "These were not our people. What happened out at that track had nothing to do with Wilder.”

Immigration and Customs Enforcement restaurant raid splits a small town in Trump country

Mt. Vernon townspeople remain divided over
the ICE raid at Pancho's Tacos.

After ICE raided a favorite Mexican food spot in Mount Vernon, Ohio, and hauled off several of its employees, a heated town debate erupted over the incident. The small community of 17,400 people in "deep-red Trump country" is still grappling with the fallout, report Cameron McWhirter and Ruth Simon of The Wall Street Journal.

While the raid at Pancho's Tacos was over in roughly 30 minutes, arguments over the justification or lack thereof for raiding a small-town restaurant and arresting five of its allegedly illegal workers have raged on.

Some Mt. Vernon residents "fully support how the operation took place," McWhirter writes. But other residents voiced concern that ICE tactics aren't the way immigration enforcement ought to work -- especially not in small-town America.

Once word of the raid spread through rumor and social media, online comments on all sides of the incident began pouring in. One commentator wrote, "'I used to remember how people loved one another and accepted one another despite their differences,'" the Journal reports. "But another wrote: 'This is EXACLTY (sic) what we voted for. Send all illegals home.'"

Beyond the spiraling debate, the raid was especially worrisome for area dairy farmers, who rely on an immigrant workforce to do the hard labor required in dairy farming. Noel Alden, a Mount Vernon lawyer, told the Journal, "Neighbors, friends, people who serve them are being whisked away. . . .They haven’t even started on farms yet.”

ICE contracts help some rural jails shore up their budgets, but the money comes with strings attached

Ozark County Jail, Mo., transports and temporarily holds
detainees for ICE. (Photo by Jesse Bogan, Marshall Project)

Small, rural law enforcement offices hurting for money are signing up for Immigration and Customs Enforcement contracts, but the money to assist with national mass deportation efforts comes with added oversight and risks.

Sheriff Cass Martin from Ozark County, Missouri, "sees his prayers answered in a new contract with ICE that could boost his $1.1 million annual budget," reports Jesse Bogan of the Missouri Independent. "An enormous ramp-up in detention capacity is underway. New contracts are being negotiated. . . . Ozark County is already reaping the benefits by raising wages and hiring for new positions in law enforcement."

Martin saw the ICE contract as a possible answer to his budgeting shortfall. He told Bogan, “We were really hurting. The day after the inauguration, a federal inspector showed up here at the jail wanting to look at everything throughout the facility."

Ozark County is one example of how a small, rural law enforcement office can become an effective "arm" for ICE. "They’ve made 525-mile runs from Ozark County to the federal building in St. Louis, down to the Greene County Jail in southwest Missouri, then back home," Bogan adds. "They’ve picked up detainees 325 miles away in Oklahoma and taken them to the tarmac at Kansas City International Airport."

But the added work and money have strings attached. ICE "detention and transportation contracts come with much more scrutiny and oversight than typical jail work, especially in Missouri, which doesn’t have statewide jail standards," Bogan reports. "Still, ICE reported that eight detainees had died nationally while in custody this year, as of May 5, including one death in a rural Missouri jail."

At least in Ozark County, local input on ICE contracts has been minimal; however, local officials working on ICE details haven't broadcast their federal negotiations. "Just one [local resident] attended a recent county commissioner meeting," Bogan writes. "Two years’ worth of meeting minutes didn’t mention the ICE contract in detail. The county commissioner said he wanted to wait until federal money started coming in before listing projected revenue in the county’s $7 million annual budget."