Next week, Mahoning Township officials will consider the latest proposal to establish a solar power generation facility in the area.

On Dec. 4, the board may rule in favor, especially if the developers meet all the conditions the township requires in an area where zoning already allows solar facilities.

The same week supervisors in Franklin Township will consider a curative amendment to their zoning laws to invalidate a 1972 regulation and limit any future solar facilities in the township.

In Rush Township, officials voted against a proposal to use about 35 acres of a nearly 2,000-acre parcel to erect a commercial solar array.

It’s an interesting example of the love-hate relationship area communities have with what’s possibly the most passive and environmentally friendly method of producing energy.

Over the past few months, a few other solar farms have been pitched and for the most part, shot down.

And I struggle to understand why.

In a nation dead set on improving the climate and reducing pollution, solar power appears to be a viable solution. But people in the area, for the most part, don’t see it that way.

Solar farm opponents cite a bevy of reasons to keep the arrays away.

Deforestation, water runoff, increased traffic, displaced deer, potential bear attacks, rattlesnake habitat, fire threats, lower property values and “changing the character” of a proposed location are among them.

Every one of those concerns can be mitigated with proper planning, training and enforcement.

Already, municipalities are rethinking zoning issues.

While no one government can ban solar sites, they’re required to create places for them to exist as good neighbors, much like in Mahoning Township, where they must also meet certain conditions.

They’re already part of local communities.

In Tamaqua, schools benefit from a nearby solar energy array. Estimates showed the installation saving taxpayers millions.

In Panther Valley, school officials have begun studying the benefits of a solar array on property adjacent to the school buildings in Summit Hill.

In rural Monroe County, solar panels power the entire Pocono Raceway complex, which plays host to hundreds of thousands of fans each year.

Perhaps the best example of a neighborly solar power system is in Nesquehoning, where for years before, coal-fueled electric generation was king because of the anthracite-burning facility in just outside town.

On leased land, the solar facility began and has almost doubled in size since it first was activated.

And nearby neighbors rarely notice.

When it was first proposed, opponents railed against its impacts on the environment, charging it would affect fishing in the nearby Nesquehoning Creek.

These days, representatives of an adjoining conservation club disagree, saying the facility hasn’t generated any negative vibes. Instead, it sits quietly and does its job.

Residents of neighboring homes say they can neither see nor hear anything from the solar farm, adding it’s almost invisible — even when there are no leaves on trees that rim the facility.

As the energy needs of the region and the nation increase, the role of solar power is growing, too.

In a state whose coal fueled an industrial revolution and whose oil powered growth at the expense of the local landscape, wouldn’t it make sense that passive systems get the opportunity?

In an area that allows solar panels using the same technology on a homeowner’s rooftop, solar generating facilities that are well-maintained and well-managed are often shunned and unwelcome.

Instead of being at the forefront of supplying energy as it once was, our area lags behind so many other places, dimming the future for passive, sustainable energy sources.

It’s more of the same old story that has plagued the region for years.

Everybody is for progress, as long as it’s not here.

ED SOCHA | tneditor@tnonline.com