Over the Fourth of July weekend, I watched a documentary about President Theodore Roosevelt. I have always been intrigued by Roosevelt, and his “Man in the Arena” speech on courage is one I return to when I need a reminder of why engaging in the political arena matters, even when doing so is difficult.
More than a century ago, the country was rapidly shifting from a nation of farms and small towns to one of growing cities, factories and industry. As Americans left rural communities for urban opportunity, Roosevelt worried that something valuable might be lost in the rush toward progress.
“There are no two public questions of more vital importance to the future of this country,” Roosevelt said, “than the problem of conservation and the problem of the betterment of country life.” Roosevelt understood that conservation was about more than protecting forests, rivers and wildlife. It was also about preserving the communities that had cared for those places for generations.
Over the past year, I have written about school vouchers, data centers, property taxes, the state budget and local control. Each of those debates raises a larger question about the direction Texas is heading and what that future will mean for the people who call rural Texas home.
What kind of future is Texas trying to build, and is there still room in it for a rural way of life?
Too often, conversations about rural Texas begin with what we lack. Some communities have lost population. Hospitals have closed. Main Streets are quieter than they once were, and young people often leave to pursue careers elsewhere. Those challenges are real, but they do not mean rural Texas needs to be rescued from itself.
Many of us live here because we choose to. Others are the fourth, fifth or sixth generation to care for the same ranch or farm. We stay not because it is the easiest place to make a living, but because it is where we find purpose.
There is value in knowing your neighbors, supporting your local school, serving your church, volunteering at the fire department and believing your children and grandchildren might someday want to come home.
That isn’t nostalgia. It’s a culture worth protecting.
As I have covered the debate over data centers, I have begun to wonder whether rural Texas is increasingly viewed not as a culture of people worth protecting, but as a collection of resources waiting to be developed.
Land to develop. Water to pump. Electricity to consume. Transmission corridors to cross. Tax incentives to offer.
None of those things are inherently bad. Rural Texas needs investment and opportunity, and we should welcome businesses that create jobs, respect local resources and become part of the communities where they locate.
But as our leaders consider this wave of development, they should remember there is a difference between investing in a place and investing in its people.
A data center in a rural county may add millions of dollars to the tax rolls, and that matters. But a larger tax base is not the same thing as investing in a community.
Property taxes help fund government services. They do not, by themselves, bring families, strengthen local businesses, fill school classrooms or build the civic relationships that allow a town to grow and thrive.
Communities are built by families who buy homes and raise children. They are built by business owners who sponsor the football team, parents who fill the school auditorium, volunteers who answer fire calls in the middle of the night and neighbors who show up with casseroles after a funeral or tractors after a storm.
In rural Texas, our communities are ecosystems, not simply economies.
That is why stewardship matters.
As Texas enters this new era, policymakers, community leaders and investors alike should think beyond the next quarterly earnings report or legislative session and consider what today’s decisions will leave for the next generation.
It means understanding that land is more than an asset, water is more than an industrial input and a community is more than its taxable value.
The measure of progress should not simply be how much land we develop, how many megawatts we consume or how much taxable value we create. It should also be whether a project reflects the community’s own goals, strengthens local businesses and leaves rural Texas a place the next generation will still want to call home.
I do not believe the answer is to stop growing.
But growth should not happen to rural communities without their input.
Before policymakers commit rural land, water and electricity to projects that will reshape communities for generations, they should slow down long enough to ask better questions.
Why this much growth? Why this much land? Why this much water? Why this much electricity? Why so much, so fast?
And what will the people who already live here gain—and what might they be asked to give up?
Those are not the questions of people who fear progress. They are the questions of people who understand that stewardship is our responsibility to future generations.
Texas does not have to choose between growth and rural communities. But it must choose to value both, because rural Texas is more than open land on a map or resources waiting to be developed.
It is a people. It is a culture. It is a way of life.
Do not build the future of Texas by leaving rural Texas behind.
Suzanne Bellsnyder is editor and publisher of the Hansford County Reporter-Statesman and Sherman County Gazette. A former Capitol staffer with decades of experience in Texas politics and policy, she now focuses on how state decisions shape rural life through her newspapers, including the Texas Rural Reporter. Subscribe at www.TexasRuralReporter.Substack.com