I grew up down the road from a slaughter house. It was located at the top of the highest hill over looking the town and it had a beautiful open pasture for cows to get a last glimpse of the world as they know-knew-it. During middle school, I would ride my bike to sidestep my anxiety of riding on the bus. If that anxiety sounds trivial, please note that this choice came with consequences. It meant that I had to ride, unprotected by any windshield, past the stench of the slaughterhouse. Also every Tuesday and Thursday were what they called "kill days" and I couldn't avoid locking eyes with the animals awaiting their fate on the "kill floor". But I digress.

Years later, the slaughterhouse grew and with it grew its electricity costs for refrigeration. Enter Big Solar: "You've got a big field, we've got a bunch of panels we can lease to you to cover your electricity needs AND MORE". This wouldn't just offset the slaughterhouse's energy, it would also power the town's local government buildings as the deal stated. Win-win. Sounded pretty good. Except the fact that several neighbors abutted the property and this project included potentially obscuring their views and definitely cutting down 50-100+ year old trees lining the streets–in the eyes of power cables, trees = imminent threats. 

To make matters worse, the slaughterhouse owners (i.e. our neighbors) didn't inform anyone on the street about this change save having the solar company's lawyer send out a notice two weeks before they would begin construction. 'Speak now or forever hold your peace.'

So people spoke up. Neighbors started meeting; first, informally at each other's houses and then more formally, even calling the solar company's lawyer to join. They raised concerns about property value, sight lines, and general neighborliness. The lawyer feigned understanding, performing the go-to expressions of active listening (lean in, nod your head, politely wait to refute what he hadn't heard). Soon enough, the project ground to a halt. 

Next came the self-serving diagrams. To depict the abject horror of the project, a neighbor had an artist illustrate just how terrible the panels could look on what had been cow-grazing pastures. Picture panels nearly blocking out the very sun that was meant to power them. Of course, the solar company scrambled to get their own rendering ready to allay any fears and show how the panels could blend into the landscape and maintain neighbors views of the valley below. 

This scrimmage continued for another month or so until the solar company broke ground and moved forward. It was private property after all so neighbor input was effectively noise to the process. Luckily, the tree lined street went untouched thanks to the protest of neighbors, so it's not to say this fight wasn't without its consolations. However, the damage had been done and what had been a quiet, friendly neighborhood street was upended.

Time went by, the panels went up, and, to be honest, they were much closer to the solar company's rendering than the neighbors' worst nightmare. Not that it mattered, but worth noting. Also worth noting is that as time went by, it came out that the surplus energy promised to the town was diverted to another nearby town-or at least the renewable energy credits were. It turned out that the solar company had initially met with another abutting town, but due to zoning laws or some regulation they couldn't host a solar farm. Instead, they had the good ole solar company to do them a solid with the energy from this project. Sigh. 

And so the project managed to taint just about anyone that touched it. But imagine what it could have been if the various stakeholders had been involved from the outset. The neighbors could have supported the slaughterhouse's need for cheaper, cleaner energy while amicably making the case for keeping the trees on the street and preserving the feel of the neighborhood they called home. The towns could have collaborated, split energy credits, or come to some agreement given that one had the zoning/permitting necessary and the other did not. The solar company could have built good rapport with the town and townspeople, sharing their vision for this project and potentially inspiring to future projects. 

And yet...

Stakeholders matter. Whether you're the owners of a steak house at the top of a hill, a town in the middle of Massachusetts, a solar company passing through, or neighbors living day to day with the decisions of others. I just look back and try to imagine what the process could have been like had everyone worked together. It may even have been the same outcome. But something tells me it could have been accomplished with a fraction of the metaphorical bloodshed. Then again, it was a slaughter house, after all.