When the Reporters Are Gone: What We Missed About the Data Center

I’ve been watching the conversation about the proposed Google Data Center at the Botetourt Center at Greenfield, and I want to offer a perspective that comes from 40 years of covering local government in Botetourt County.

A lot of people are angry at the Board of Supervisors right now. I understand why. Nobody likes feeling blindsided. But the truth is more complicated, and it points to a deeper problem we don’t talk about enough.

1. The Board didn’t hide anything. The zoning change happened in November 2024. The county advertised a public hearing to amend the RAM zoning district to include data centers as a permitted use. That was the moment when this project became possible. It was public. It was legal. It was properly noticed.

I remember seeing the ad and thinking, “They’re preparing for a data center.” Anyone who understands zoning would have recognized it.

But most people don’t read legal ads, and most people don’t follow zoning language closely. Most people don't even read a newspaper anymore. That’s not a criticism. It’s just reality.

2. The public didn’t react because the public didn’t know what the change meant. And this is where the real issue comes in.

When I was still writing, I would have explained what a RAM district is, broken down what “permitted use” means, connected the dots between the amendment and the likely project, interviewed county staff about the RAM use change, and written the kind of article that helps people understand what’s coming before it arrives.

That’s what local journalism is supposed to do. That's what I used to do.

3. But we don’t have that kind of local journalism anymore. The paper today prints very little that could be called “news.” They avoid controversy. They don’t have the staff, the time, or the institutional memory to cover land use, budgets, or long‑range planning.

It’s not the media's fault entirely.  People stopped buying papers, stopped advertising, and the economics collapsed. I stopped working because I was ill, and the paper never replaced my position.

But the result is the same: the county lost its watchdog, its explainer, its translator, because no one stepped up to take on that role.

4. So now people feel blindsided. The Board did not hide anything, (though they could have been a bit more forthcoming). But the information ecosystem failed. Not just the local paper, but also the TV media, and the daily paper. The Botetourt Bee ceased publication in the summer of 2024, before this public hearing happened. And it ceased publication because some members of this county acted inappropriately.

But this data center is what happens when a community loses its reporters. Important decisions go unnoticed, legal ads become the only form of outreach, people don’t understand the process, outrage arrives months or years too late.

The data center isn’t just a land‑use story. It’s a story about what happens when local news disappears.

5. I live half a mile from the site. I raise cattle. I have my own concerns. I’m sensitive to low‑frequency noise, and I’m paying close attention to what this means for me, my land, and my herd. I’m not dismissing anyone’s worries.

But I also know how the process works, and I know this didn’t come out of nowhere.

6. If we want better outcomes in the future, we need better information, not more anger. Communities can’t make informed decisions if they don’t have access to informed reporting. That’s the real loss here, and it’s one we’re all feeling now.

Watch the news. Buy the local paper, the weekly and the daily. Support local journalism if you want to be informed.

Communities need their watchdogs.