The soul of Box Elder is not for sale: A legacy at risk

As a Doctor of Business Administration and a genealogical researcher, I view the proposed data center in Brigham City through two distinct lenses: one of economic scrutiny and one of deep ancestral duty. I am a fifth-generation descendant of the pioneers who built this community, and I refuse to watch this “hidden gem” be sacrificed for a project that mirrors the failed, expensive ventures of our past.

A legacy built by hand and sacrifice

My family didn’t just live in Brigham City; they built its infrastructure. My great-grandfather’s brother founded the city’s first insurance company, and Arnell Moyes, related by marriage, started the first service station in town. We are the descendants of Ingeborg Sofia Hansen and Niels Hans Nielsen, whose artifacts reside in the Brigham City Museum. We are the Cavanaughs, Wards, Johns, Nielsens, and Nelsons whose historical houses still stand and whose graves fill our local cemetery.

Our roots are verified by service and faith. My great-grandfather, Thomas John, was a notable early missionary. My grandfather, a surveyor and Army veteran born in Brigham, has his portrait hanging in Marie Abravanel Hall. His brother Raulon served in Vietnam, and his Uncle Pete was the first man in Box Elder County to volunteer for World War II.

We have watched this community grow since my mother was a young girl visiting her grandparents to eat at the iconic Idle Isle Cafe, Peach City, and Maddox. We even count among our kin Mary Petersen, the daughter of Chloe Hortense Petersen, who was the first licensed female dentist in Utah. To us, this land isn’t a “development site” — it is a living history.

A history of fiscal and ethical failure

From a business administration perspective, we must learn from “massive” projects that failed to deliver, such as the Intermountain Indian School, where my great-grandfather worked. As a DBA, I often point to the 1999 acquisition of “The Learning Company” as a textbook case of a disastrous acquisition. It is deeply concerning when outside interests attempt to override local history through the politically maneuvered force of MIDA, the Military Installation Development Authority. This culture of “money over ethics” is a recurring theme in failed ventures.

The myth of economic benefit

Data centers are “job-poor” per acre. Once construction ends, these massive facilities employ very few people, locking out industries that would offer more to local residents. Furthermore, with technology moving toward decentralized “edge computing,” we risk being left with a “stranded asset” — a massive, vacant concrete shell that is nearly impossible to repurpose once technology shifts.

I question the strategic analysis of this venture. For a forward-focused project, one must weigh the efficacy of such a high-priced investment against its projected lifespan. Disregarding personal feelings, this is a poor strategic move; the facility will likely be irrelevant before it is even completed. Utah needs a progressive, futuristic technological ecosystem, not an industrial relic of the early 2020s.

The invisible toll: health, noise, and environment

Data centers produce constant, 24/7 low-frequency noise linked to hypertension and sleep deprivation. Furthermore, the goal of making these sites “nuclear capable” poses permanent health risks to the elderly, children, and animals. Willard Bay and the Migratory Bird Center do not need more environmental disruption.

From seismic risks to the shrinking Great Salt Lake releasing toxic arsenic dust, we cannot afford to divert millions of gallons of water to cool a data center. Having advocated for and rehabilitated animals for 10 years, I am terrified for our migratory birds. Brigham City sits along a globally important flyway. The industrial lighting and heat islands created by these centers cause “light entrapment” and exhaustion for migratory species. If these flight paths are disrupted, the resulting ecosystem collapse will change the face of Box Elder County forever.

Respecting local voices

The Brigham City Council has expressed opposition to this project, yet the state remains at the helm, bypassing local voices. This plan risks turning Brigham into an industrial heat island, ignoring the desires of the people who actually live here.

The importance of the state listening to local voices as it makes these decisions cannot be overstated. If the state is seeking revenue, they should look to areas like Green River, which has the land and a genuine need for an economic boost without sacrificing a historical sanctuary. 

Our heritage is not a commodity, and our voices must be heard before the face of Box Elder County is changed forever.