My “Bystander” Education in Community Organizing

 

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I sat down in the last open chair in Cathy and Gary Johnson’s dining room in a house full of 15 Farmington neighbors for a Wednesday night meeting. As a summer intern for Minnesota Women’s Press, I had previously interviewed the Johnsons and neighbor Mo Feshami about data centers and the challenges of community organizing. My subsequent story was an explainer about “What Minnesotans Should Learn About Data Centers.”

Like most Minnesotans, before that assignment I had little knowledge about the technical jargon and no understanding of the power dynamics at play between the local governments, data center developers, and citizens. The story explained how the group — organized as the nonprofit Coalition for Responsible Data Center Development — was sounding a warning alarm about private developers buying up rural community land. Some of these nationwide plans, including in Farmington, have been made under cover of nondisclosure agreements (NDAs) signed by city officials, to create vast data centers that are sucking up municipal water supplies and increasing electricity rates for neighbors.

I was in Farmington again to learn how a group creates a grassroots movement. I left humbled by their passion and determination in a “David vs. Goliath” battle, as they describe it.

 

 

I came with standard reporting questions: How did you get involved with the data center issue? What are the strengths and weaknesses as a coalition? What is your biggest challenge? Why do you feel that it is important to get involved in neighborhood issues?

But as I listened to Cathy direct the conversation, starting with the first agenda item about a presence at the large Dakota County Fair, I realized that my questions were out of place in a room where the action happens — where decisions are made and where momentum is gathering. The real story that night was about how a coalition finds its power in connection to get things done. They were asking each other questions:

• Who do you know who will put up yard signs?
• Do you know if [name] would be willing to fly a banner at his shop?
• How can we share parking passes at the fair to save costs?
• As a 501(c), do we need insurance to cover our events?
• Who can supply a laptop or projector for presentations?

As I listened, and after I drove home, I thought about the distinction of being there as a journalist, one step removed from those who are members of the coalition. Even if I care about the issues they are concerned about — environmental standards, lack of transparency from elected officials, investors who build without being in the community — do my notebook and list of questions mean I am not supposed to show that I care, as a reporter, about those issues?

 

What Is the Role of Journalism Today?

The ethics of journalism feel murky in a world that has a proliferation of public opinions from social media influencers and TV commentators. How do you write about issues neighbors care about without understanding and writing from their perspective? Especially when their issues are intrinsically tied to the land and our relationships with it and each other.

Cathy Johnson and the coalition she chairs have been meeting since a conversation in her backyard more than a year ago. They came together in confusion and a little chaos, trying to understand why their city had signed NDAs with Tract, a development company seeking to rezone land in their residential neighborhood. Outside investors want to build a hyperscale data center, supporting 708 megawatts of energy — which is far greater than most previous centers around the country.

The coalition talked of concerns about water conservation, light and noise pollution, setbacks from property lines, and the precedent their situation was setting for the state of Minnesota. Since that first discussion, members have attended every city council meeting and almost every planning commission meeting to raise their voices.

For these neighbors in Farmington, the issue literally abutted their backyards. When you can see the issue from your kitchen window, it becomes very real. And when it comes in the form of a private out-of-state company requiring city officials to sign nondisclosure agreements — to prevent conversation about the project with residents — it is not pretty.

As with so much these days, even if the infiltration doesn’t come to our backyard, it is not hard to imagine that it will, and how it affects everyone.

The coalition is building a way for others to see, hear, and join their efforts — to form unity. As coalition member Kris Akin put it: “We have to help them feel what we’re feeling.”

A crucial goal for the coalition now is education and outreach. They know their movement is one for all Minnesotans. And they understand that they’re up against monied interests that pay to pull the curtains and separate us.

During my 50-minute drive home, I pondered: How do we build empathy and inspire dynamic cooperation? How do we create a sense of community that moves together without devolving into an “us versus them” battle? How do we build the values we want to see in solidarity with others? Isn’t that also what the role of journalism is intended to capture?

Listening again to recorded notes from my first interview with Cathy, Gary, and Mo, I was reminded of moments of disbelief. I reacted to emotional memories they shared: the mayor flipping them the middle finger at a city council meeting, outrage about the NDA, feeling ignored even on the state level. I think about what motivates activism and what grounds it. How does a movement endure?

Mo and Gary shared a look during my first interview with them, when Mo said he would be “doing this for as long as I can.” He looked at Gary, who nodded and affirmed that they would be fighting this fight as long as they could — together.

During the coalition meeting I attended after that first interview, there were spaces for members to express grief, and moments of affirmation and validation: “What you feel is what I’m feeling, too.”

The meeting ended with a rustling of papers. There were notes for agendas, Dakota County Fair flyers, and coalition brochures. The most important first step, the neighbors decided, was to rally Farmington residents — who live on highways near the county fair — to place “No Data Center” yard signs on their properties. The coalition hoped to sell 100 yard signs at the county fair in early August.

Thinking about my role as a journalist, listening to a community come together in a cause, I realized that there is a sense of relief in being witness to movement building. The despair so many of us might feel can be buoyed by listening to these types of conversations — not simply retelling the political, but sharing the connective. It is a privilege to write about how communities at the fundamental level are bolstered by grassroots connections.

This data center issue — as with all issues — come back to neighbors talking to neighbors. Backyards and yard signs. Dining room tables and petitions. County fairs and T-shirts.

It might be ironic that the data that can inspire us and share knowledge needs to be encased in an extractive space that separates monied people — and sometimes political leaders — from their own neighbors and voting public.

The data center issue is a strong metaphor for the big picture of today. It threatens communities by hoping to find weakness in, and subsequently preying on, people and communities that might not have the strength, especially financially, to organize.

When we do find strength in each other, however — a way to look forward to the next day, and the next goal to reach — a grassroots movement grows. The question is: “Can we see our neighbors, can we hear their voices, and do we stand with each other?”

 

 

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