As artificial intelligence accelerates into everyday life, the enormous data centers that make it possible are increasingly becoming a lightning rod for public anger, particularly in states like Georgia where residents are now mobilizing against the very infrastructure that fuels the tech economy. The clash is a stark reminder that the engines behind the AI revolution—massive, power-hungry facilities housing tens of thousands of expensive chips—are not only reshaping industries, but also the communities they inhabit.
MIT Technology Review recently laid out the scale of the hyperscale data center, describing these facilities as “massive structures” that can span millions of square feet and contain hundreds of thousands of high-end GPUs, each costing upwards of $30,000. Together, they process hundreds of thousands of tokens per second and consume staggering amounts of electricity, requiring cooling systems that are engineering feats in their own right. Their rapid construction has been so financially significant that some analysts argue the boom is helping prop up the US stock market and economy. The Biden administration even announced a $500 billion private investment in data center construction on the president’s first full day in office, underscoring the political importance of the sector.
Yet for many Americans, the benefits of this digital infrastructure are not felt locally. Instead, residents watch as their power bills rise, their water supplies are strained, and their landscapes are transformed into sprawling industrial complexes. The backlash has been especially intense in Georgia, a state that has become a national battleground over the pace of data center development.
Georgia’s Public Service Commission election last year became unexpectedly tight, with incumbent Republican commissioners losing their seats in an upset widely attributed to rising electricity costs. Voters repeatedly blamed the surge in data center construction—particularly in areas near Atlanta—for driving power prices upward. These centers draw massive amounts of energy, prompting utilities to expand grid capacity. Those upgrades, however, are often funded by local ratepayers rather than the tech companies that benefit most from the new infrastructure. In Wyoming, for example, a planned Meta data center is expected to require more electricity than all the households in the state combined.
The environmental footprint of data centers is another source of fury. Some facilities rely on “dirty” energy sources to meet their immense power needs. In Memphis, for example, xAI drew criticism for deploying methane-powered generators to support its data center. While nuclear energy is often discussed as a cleaner alternative, traditional plants can take a decade or more to build, and even newer reactors still require years to come online. Water usage is another contentious issue. Data centers can consume vast amounts of water for cooling, and usage figures are frequently opaque, leaving residents and regulators unsure of the true impact. In several states, lawmakers are now pushing for transparency rules to require disclosure of water consumption.
The opposition is not limited to environmental and financial concerns. Residents also cite noise and the lack of lasting employment benefits. Data centers generate a constant hum—described by some as “a highway that never stops”—and once construction is complete, they often employ only a small number of people, despite their massive resource consumption.
This tension was vividly displayed in Monroe County, Georgia, near the town of Bolingbroke, where local officials considered rezoning 900 acres for a new data center. In a packed public meeting, roughly 900 residents turned out to oppose the project, and the county commission ultimately rejected it in August. Despite promises from developers that the facility would bring jobs, remain hidden from view, and uphold “the highest environmental standards,” residents were unmoved. The backlash mirrored protests in other counties, such as Twiggs County, where officials allowed a data center to proceed despite vocal opposition.
The growing resistance reflects a deeper unease about the pace of technological change. MIT Technology Review’s coverage notes that the backlash resembles earlier protests against tech industry expansion, such as the anti–Google bus movement in San Francisco. Those buses, which shuttled workers to Silicon Valley campuses, became a symbol of tech’s unequal impact on public resources and urban life. The buses were eventually regulated, but the tech industry remained dominant, and the city continued to gentrify.
Today, the stakes are higher. AI is no longer a niche technology; it is increasingly embedded in everyday apps and services. Many people fear that the technology will disrupt jobs or even pose existential risks. While the public may feel powerless to stop the tech giants themselves, some believe they can at least halt the physical infrastructure that enables AI.
Still, the future remains uncertain. Even in Monroe County, where residents successfully blocked one proposal, Google confirmed in October that it had purchased 950 acres of land nearby and plans to build a data center there. The fight over AI’s backbone is far from over, and as these facilities continue to multiply, so too will the communities pushing back against them.
