A Battle Over a Farm, a Mosque and the Moral High Ground

Butch Robinson is done. After dedicating most of his 77 years to growing sod, he just wants to sell his sprawl of green and ease his aching back into the lounge chair of a hard-earned retirement.

That is why Mr. Robinson and the two sons who run the family farm with him, both with nagging backs, were delighted when a developer put down a nonrefundable retainer for 156 of their acres on the fast-growing fringe of the Twin Cities exurb of Lino Lakes, Minn.

The builder’s ambitious plan called for a housing development for 434 homes. It would include shops, restaurants, tennis courts, soccer fields, a park with a pavilion — and a 40,000-square-foot mosque.

So began a conflagration over a small emerald swath of the American dream, fueled by colliding hopes and mutual distrust. At the dispute’s core: clashing interpretations of what inclusion looks like.

It culminated last month with a packed City Council hearing on a proposal to pause development in the precise corner of Lino Lakes that features the Robinson sod farm. Butch Robinson was present, his white hair tucked under a U.S.A. baseball cap. So was the developer. So was the local resident leading the opposition.

The mayor and the four other council members, all white men, sat at a curved table with an American flag drooping behind them. Scowling like a principal anticipating school-assembly misbehavior, the mayor expressed hope for a “good positive session.”