Fear of Change? Oh, Please.

Try a little harder, next time...

Have you ever chuckled at the sheer irony of renewable energy developers claiming we oppose their gargantuan projects because we “fear change”? Really? Fear of change? That’s the hill they’re planting their solar panels on? It’s almost adorable—if it weren’t so condescending.

Let me tell you something about rural folks, especially farmers: we live with change. Heck, we wrestle it into submission daily, often before breakfast. The U.S. Army may pride itself on doing more before 6 a.m. than most people do all day, but out here? We’ve got them beat. By 6 a.m., we’ve fixed fences, fed the livestock, and maybe even chased down a runaway calf or two. And that’s just Monday.

Case in point: You wake up, ready to tackle your chores, only to find that some critter has Houdini-ed its way out of the electric fence overnight. Now, depending on whether it’s a herd of cows or a single ornery goat, the roundup might be quick—or you’re in for a full cardio workout.

And once you’ve corralled the escapees, you’re off to mend the fence. Simple enough, right? Except—you guessed it—you’re a few feet short of wire. What do you do? Steal some from the fence behind the barn? Scrounge through the garage for something close enough to patch the hole? Or maybe call your neighbor who always seems to have just enough spare supplies? Whatever you decide, congratulations—you just adapted to change. Again.

Farmers are masters of adaptation. We’ve been swapping belts between machines since before developers started sticking solar panels on every square inch of farmland. And let’s not forget those days when the mare decides to foal at 2 a.m., and your teenager has to skip school to help, because life doesn’t pause for algebra. Or how about when your neighbor has a medical emergency, and you rearrange your entire day to cover their chores? If that’s not handling change, I don’t know what is.

So, excuse us if we roll our eyes when someone suggests we fear change. That argument might fly in an air-conditioned office, but out here? Not a chance.

Why They Play the “Fear of Change” Card

So, why do renewable energy developers trot out this tired excuse? My guess? They think it works. They believe they can reduce all opposition to their projects into a neat little box labeled “scared of change.” After all, invoking fear simplifies everything: “Stay the same, and you’re safe. Embrace change, and you’re doomed.” It’s an easy way to avoid addressing the real, complex issues people have with their projects.

The problem is, this tactic relies on the assumption that we’re too clueless to see through it. Developers hope that by invoking the “fear of change,” they’ll tap into our anxieties and make their message seem more credible. They frame change as a potential loss—loss of safety, tradition, resources, or whatever else they think we hold dear. And sure, on paper, it looks like a clever strategy. Fear is a powerful motivator, and emotional arguments can overshadow logic. Fear spreads fast, especially in groups. And let’s face it, resisting change is sometimes the path of least resistance—it saves mental energy.

But here’s the thing: rural folks aren’t afraid of change. We just know how to recognize a bad deal when we see one.

Let’s Talk About “Their” Change

According to developers, their projects are the good kind of change. The kind that will “save struggling farms,” “generate revenue for schools,” and “help save the planet.” Oh, and don’t worry about those wind turbines or solar fields taking over your view—they’re just a “temporary inconvenience.” And don’t forget, they promise to return the land to the pristine condition they found it in once they’re done. Isn’t that precious?

It’s about as believable as when your teenage kid borrows the car and promises, “I’ll bring it back just the way I found it.” Sure they will—except now the gas tank is mysteriously empty, the seat’s adjusted for someone who’s apparently seven feet tall, and the car is running “a little off.” Developers’ promises feel a lot like that: full of good intentions, but you’re the one left fixing the mess when reality doesn’t match the rosy pitch.

The truth is, their definition of “temporary inconvenience” usually means decades of altered landscapes, damaged ecosystems, and, let’s be honest, a pretty slim chance of the land ever returning to its original state. The field you used to grow crops in isn’t going to bounce back overnight after it’s been packed with concrete and solar panels, no matter how “temporary” they claim it is.

I Now Recognize This Tactic—How Do I Counter It?

So, you’ve figured it out. The developers are playing the “fear of change” card, hoping you’ll feel small, scared, and overwhelmed. Now what? First, take a deep breath and remind yourself that this is just another tactic—and you’ve got better moves.

The first step is flipping their narrative on its head. Don’t let them frame you as someone afraid of progress. Call it out for what it is: their attempt to simplify a complex issue into something black and white. Make it clear that your opposition isn’t about resisting change—it’s about protecting your heritage, your land, and your community’s future. Not all change is good, and you’re not about to let a corporate profit scheme masquerade as progress.

Next, it’s time to hit the books—or maybe the internet. Developers love to paint a rosy picture, so arm yourself with facts that poke holes in their arguments. Look into how similar projects have impacted other rural communities. Did they deliver the promised benefits, or were the locals left picking up the pieces? When you show up with hard data, their emotional manipulation starts to look more like smoke and mirrors.

Now, here’s where it gets personal. Developers are banking on their polished PR campaigns to drown out the voices of real people. So, tell your story. Share the challenges you face as a farmer or rural resident—how you adapt to change every single day and still find time to help a neighbor in need. Make it clear that you’re not against innovation, but you have every right to question a proposal that risks your way of life.

As you tell your story, don’t forget to shine a light on theirs. Developers love to talk about saving the planet and helping communities, but it’s no secret they’re here for the money. Expose their real agenda. Highlight how their projects can drain local resources, destroy farmland, and threaten public services. When people see the bigger picture, it becomes harder for developers to hide behind their glossy brochures.

Don’t stop there. You need to bring the decision-makers into the fold. Countering their tactics means involving your local, county, state, and even federal elected officials. Write them, call them, email them, or send a text. If you’re feeling bold, stop by their house unexpectedly to discuss your concerns. These folks represent you, and they need to hear your voice loud and clear—especially when your community’s future is on the line.

And don’t do it alone. Developers thrive on dividing communities, but a united front is a powerful thing. Bring your neighbors together, share information, and stand as one. When you’re working together, their fear-based tactics lose a lot of their bite.

Finally, stay calm. Developers want to stir the pot, hoping you’ll get emotional or lose focus. Don’t give them that satisfaction. Stick to the facts, keep your arguments logical, and refuse to let their manipulation distract you from what matters most—your community, your heritage, and your future.

The Bottom Line

Fear of change? Please. Farmers and rural families handle change like it’s on our daily to-do list—because it is. Renewable energy developers might think they’re being clever by weaponizing fear, but out here, we’re not buying it. We’re not scared—we’re livid. Livid that some city slicker is attempting to erase our heritage, compromise our legacy, and potentially endanger not only our livelihood but also our friends and family.

We know what’s best for our community. But if you really want to talk about fear, let’s talk about the real fear we have: the fear of having to needlessly deal with the foolishness of this development and the time opposing it will take away from our day-to-day responsibilities. Worse yet, we fear how much of that time will be stolen from moments better spent with our families.

And let’s not forget the fear that if you, Mr. Developer, don’t “get your way,” you’ll threaten lawsuits that would more than likely force our local government into bankruptcy. You know, the very government that provides life-saving services—like fire and EMS—that might cease to exist if your selfishness drains our community dry.

So yeah, maybe I misspoke. We do fear change—but it’s the change brought by greed, selfishness, and stupidity. All of which you’ve so generously blessed our community with. Thanks for nothing!