A small town in Wisconsin pushes out a planned data center project

Organizers participated in a day of action in Menomonie
 in December. (Photo by K. Gregerson via Next City)

Three thousand years ago, it was David the shepherd boy vs. Goliath the Philistine giant. A 21st-century version of the proverbial battle goes something like this: Menomonie, Wisconsin. pop. 16,843 vs. Balloonist, LLC and its undisclosed tech-giant backer. Spoiler: Menomonie wins.

When Menomonie residents discovered their city council had already entered into closed-door talks with Balloonist last July, they had to hustle to get organized. Marianne Dhenin of Next City reports, "It was only weeks before the city council voted to annex and rezone the land to move the project forward. Organizers were fighting an uphill battle."

In the course of their fight to keep the $1.6 billion data center from spreading across 320 acres of farmland near the edge of town, Menomonie residents tapped into "grassroots community organizing and support from a growing statewide coalition," Dhenin writes. As they learned how to push Balloonist out of their town, residents created a toolkit for other small towns facing unwanted hyperscale data center proposals.

Menomonie residents who opposed the project "took to social media and the streets to raise the alarm about the data center proposal and organize community members," Dhenin explains. "They met to share information, staged demonstrations, and began attending city council meetings in growing numbers. . . . By September 2025, there were over 10,000 Menomonie residents and allies in a Stop the Menomonie Data Center Facebook group."

The town's resistance was so intense that Mayor Randy Knaack "announced at a Sept. 22 city council meeting that he had notified Balloonist that the city would not be moving forward with a development agreement," Dhenin reports. In January, the Menomonie City Council "voted unanimously to place additional regulations on data center projects."

Opinion: 'Rural rage' book gets most things wrong but pinpoints how political strength can help rural 'plight' be seen

Bradyn Strawser

Writer Bradyn Strawser discusses the good, the bad and the ugly roots of 'rural rage' and how he interprets some national research on the topic. An edited version of some of his thoughts is below.

"In the months leading up to the 2020 presidential election, the Democratic Party claimed that their platform was going to be one of unity. They said it was time to turn the page on the toxicity that had defined American political discourse since that fateful moment when Donald Trump descended on the escalator in 2015, initiating his first presidential campaign," Strawser explains. "What went wrong? A good place to begin answering this question might be White Rural Rage.

"The subtitle, The Threat to American Democracy, makes the anti-rural sentiments of authors Tom Schaller, a professor of political science at the University of Maryland, and Paul Waldman, a former op-ed writer for the Washington Post, quite clear," Strawser adds. Schaller and Waldman spend a lot of words "pointing out that countless other demographics suffer more than rural whites. It seems the authors are not interested in the plight of rural America."

One of Schaller and Waldman's biggest questions was: Why did rural Americans vote so enthusiastically for Trump? "They conclude it is because Trump tapped into all the worst instincts of rural Americans," Strawser adds. "But this is not why Trump resonated with so many of my neighbors and loved ones. He resonated with them because despite all the inflated political power Schaller and Waldman claim rural America has. . . .Trump was the first president in many years that seemed to listen [to] and care."

Some of rural rage stems from being politically ignored. "Countless rural communities suffered from loss of industry, lack of education, and military intervention in foreign lands," Strawser explains. "Rural Americans have felt abandoned as both parties voted in trade deals like NAFTA and promoted immigration policies that acquiesced to large corporations’ demands for new sources of cheap labor, a push which was supported by many labor unions."

Part of why rural Americans feel rage is because they have counted their losses and started asking questions. "They want to know why they are not entitled to a quality education," Strawser writes. "Why should they support politicians who send their jobs overseas and then receive money from the very corporations that laid off their employees? . . . Trump seemed to provide answers to these questions. His pro-school choice stance and promotion of opportunity zones that used tax incentives to increase investment in depressed census tracts. . . resonated with rural people."

While Schaller and Waldman take their keen minds and come to some harsh and misguided conclusions, "they do a good job at pointing out problems facing rural America, perhaps none more serious than the opioid crisis that is poisoning rural Americans every day," Strawser writes. "I think they are correct about one [other] thing: it is time for rural Americans to wield their political power to finally get policies that are in their interest. It’s time that they demand their plight be heard."

Bradyn Strawser studied political science and history at Grove City College, Penn. To read Strawser's full essay, click here.

Rural Nevada leaders seek a voice in massive energy builds, but almost 80% of their land is federally managed

Across western federal lands, some renewable energy expansion is going at such a frenetic pace that rural county officials in Nevada can't keep up with the requests, reports Jeniffer Solis of the Nevada Current. "Several rural counties are now asking state lawmakers to establish a policy requiring federal agencies to coordinate all their land use planning and management decisions with state and county governments when considering massive utility-scale energy projects. . . . As of June, there are over 130 pending applications to build renewable energy projects across Nevada’s public lands. Most of those projects are in rural counties, where as much as 80% of land is federally managed."

NV Energy photo

Currently, Nevada lacks a statewide utility-scale solar plan, which exacerbates the problem for local governments.  In fact, county officials from Eureka and Lander County told state lawmakers that managing the sheer number of clean energy projects coming to their offices isn't workable because they lack staff and management capacity. Solis writes. "Rural governments told lawmakers that the intensity and scale of utility-scale energy proposals they are seeing in their counties will require targeted state policy to support and protect rural economies."

Eureka and Lander County lands are included in the "proposed Greenlink North Transmission Project — a 235-mile transmission line along Highway 50, which is expected to attract more solar projects in the coming years," Solis explains. And while the project is expected to bring thousands of good-paying jobs to the state, county officials want their offices and residents to have a say in local installations and time to prepare for the profound changes the builds are sure to bring.

Eureka County’s natural resources manager, Jake Tibbitts, "proposed amending state policy to clarify that federal agencies are expected to enter formal agreements with local governments in Nevada when considering projects on public land in their county," Solis reports. "Under the proposed amendment, those agreements would need to include a detailed coordination plan. . .especially when addressing conflicts between local land use plans and federal plans."

Solis adds, "But like Nevada as a whole, land in Eureka County is largely administered by the Bureau of Land Management and the Forest Service, leaving the county at the whims of federal land use policy."