Blue Owl Capital, the New York-listed alternative asset manager, has unveiled an infrastructure venture catering to data centers, according to a Bloomberg report published July 8, 2026. The available material confirms the launch itself but discloses few specifics — no fund size, capital target, anchor tenants, or geographic focus were included in the source we reviewed.
Executive Summary
According to Bloomberg, Blue Owl Capital has launched a dedicated infrastructure venture aimed at data centers. Blue Owl is already one of the most active private-capital players in digital infrastructure, so a purpose-built vehicle is less a change of direction than a formalization of where the firm has been deploying money at scale.
The significance is structural. When a major asset manager stands up a named venture for a single asset class, it signals that data centers have graduated from an opportunistic real-estate niche into a core institutional allocation — with dedicated teams, dedicated fundraising, and a mandate to deploy through cycles. For operators, hyperscalers, and competing capital providers, that changes who they negotiate with and on what terms. That said, the source material is thin: until Blue Owl or its investors disclose the venture’s size, structure, and pipeline, the announcement should be read as a statement of intent whose scale remains unverified.
Institutional Capital Is Now Purpose-Built for the AI Buildout
For most of the data center industry’s history, projects were financed by specialist REITs (real estate investment trusts — companies that own income-producing property) and corporate balance sheets. The AI era broke that model: individual campuses now carry price tags that rival power plants and airports, sums beyond what even large operators can carry alone. The gap is being filled by alternative asset managers — firms that invest institutional money such as pension and sovereign-wealth capital outside public markets.
A dedicated venture, as opposed to deal-by-deal participation, matters because it creates standing capacity. Committed capital with a single mandate can underwrite faster, warehouse land and power positions, and fund multi-year construction schedules without reassembling an investor group for each project. If Blue Owl’s new vehicle follows that pattern, it institutionalizes a pipeline rather than a transaction.
Blue Owl’s Path From Lender to Data Center Heavyweight
Blue Owl did not arrive at this from a standing start. The firm, formed in 2021 from the merger of direct lender Owl Rock and GP-stakes investor Dyal Capital, acquired IPI Partners’ digital-infrastructure business in 2024 and has since backed some of the largest data center financings on record, including a joint venture reported at roughly $27 billion to fund Meta’s hyperscale campus in Louisiana and a multibillion-dollar vehicle behind a flagship AI campus in Abilene, Texas.
Read against that history, a dedicated infrastructure venture looks like the next logical step: converting a string of headline deals into a durable franchise. The open question — unanswered by the available reporting — is whether the new venture sits alongside, absorbs, or competes with the strategies Blue Owl already runs, and whether it targets equity ownership, credit, or the net-lease structures (long-term leases where the tenant bears operating costs) the firm is known for.
The Economics: Why Data Centers Fit This Capital
Data centers leased to investment-grade hyperscalers behave, financially, like bonds with a building attached: long contracts, creditworthy counterparties, and predictable cash flows. That profile is exactly what insurance and retirement capital wants, and it explains why asset managers can raise enormous sums for the sector even as construction costs and power constraints mount.
The winners in this arrangement are developers who gain a deep-pocketed capital partner, and AI companies who can expand without consuming their own balance sheets. The tension is on pricing and risk: as more institutional money chases the same tenants, yields compress, and capital may reach further down the credit spectrum — toward newer AI firms whose long-term ability to pay decade-long leases is less proven.
Risks the Boom Should Not Obscure
Purpose-built capital cuts both ways. Concentration is the obvious hazard: much of the sector’s contracted revenue traces back to a handful of hyperscalers and AI labs, so a slowdown in AI spending would ripple through every vehicle exposed to it. Technology risk is real too — facilities designed for today’s chip densities and cooling requirements may need costly retrofits within a lease term. And power, not money, is increasingly the binding constraint; capital that cannot secure grid connections cannot deploy. None of these risks is unique to Blue Owl, but a venture of this kind will be judged on how it prices them, and the launch reporting gives no visibility into that yet.
Background
Blue Owl Capital was formed in 2021 through the merger of Owl Rock Capital, a direct-lending specialist, and Dyal Capital, which buys stakes in other asset managers; it went public via SPAC and now manages well over $200 billion. Its push into digital infrastructure accelerated with the 2024 acquisition of IPI Partners’ data center investment business and a series of landmark hyperscale financings in 2025, spanning net-lease deals and development joint ventures with major cloud and AI tenants.
The backdrop is a historic capital cycle: AI training and inference demand has pushed data center construction to record levels, with individual campuses drawing power measured in gigawatts and financing needs that have pulled in private equity, private credit, sovereign funds, and insurance capital alongside the traditional operators.
The Brookings Institution, a Washington-based public policy think tank, published an analysis on July 7, 2026 arguing that the wave of local opposition to data center construction across the United States is more than scattered NIMBY friction — it is an early signal of a broader political and economic fight over how much electricity artificial intelligence will consume, and who will pay for it.
Executive Summary
According to the piece’s framing, communities near proposed data center campuses are increasingly pushing back on projects through zoning hearings, moratoriums, and local elections. Brookings connects these disputes to the underlying driver: AI workloads require enormous amounts of electricity, and the infrastructure to deliver it — generation, transmission lines, and substations — lands in specific towns and counties whose residents did not sign up for it.
Why it matters: the data center industry has historically won siting battles on the strength of tax revenue and jobs arguments. If Brookings is right that opposition is hardening into an organized, durable political force, the industry’s expansion model — fast site acquisition, utility-negotiated power deals, and light-touch local engagement — may need to change. For an industry racing to build AI capacity, the constraint may prove to be not capital or chips, but community consent and grid access.
The Grid Is Where AI Meets Local Politics
Data centers are unusual among industrial facilities: they consume power on the scale of heavy manufacturing while employing relatively few permanent workers. That asymmetry is at the heart of the backlash Brookings describes. A large AI campus can draw as much electricity as a small city, which means new transmission lines, new substations, and in some regions new generation — all of which are visible, local, and subject to public process. AI is often discussed as an abstract technology; the grid is where it becomes a land-use question that a county board can vote on.
This gives local governments real leverage. Zoning approvals, special-use permits, and utility interconnection queues are choke points where a project can be delayed for years or killed outright. The industry has long treated these as procedural hurdles; the Brookings framing suggests they are becoming political contests.
Ratepayers, Tax Deals, and the Question of Who Pays
The economics beneath the backlash deserve attention. When a utility builds infrastructure to serve a massive new load, the cost recovery question — does the data center operator pay its full share, or do costs get socialized across all ratepayers — is decided in regulatory proceedings most residents never see. Where residents perceive that their electric bills are rising to serve a tech company’s servers, opposition tends to sharpen. Several state utility commissions have begun creating special large-load rate classes to address exactly this concern, an implicit acknowledgment that the old cost-allocation model strains under AI-scale demand.
Tax abatements cut the same way. Data centers are frequently recruited with incentive packages, and critics ask whether the revenue and job numbers justify them. Operators who can demonstrate full cost-of-service payment and transparent community benefit will be better positioned than those relying on confidentiality agreements and after-the-fact announcements.
What Hardening Opposition Means for the Buildout
If backlash becomes systematic, expect three shifts. First, siting migrates toward jurisdictions that actively want the load — regions with surplus generation, declining industrial demand, or explicit pro-data-center policy. Second, timelines lengthen and carry more political risk, which favors operators with existing land banks, secured power, and strong community track records over new entrants assembling projects from scratch. Third, self-supplied power — on-site generation, long-term clean energy contracts, and eventually small modular reactors — becomes more attractive precisely because it reduces the project’s visible draw on the shared grid.
None of this stops the AI buildout; demand is too strong. But it changes who can build, where, and how fast — and it rewards the operators who treat community engagement and grid stewardship as core competencies rather than public relations.
Background
Data centers — the warehouse-scale buildings full of servers that run websites, cloud services, and AI models — have expanded rapidly since generative AI took off in late 2022, with hyperscale operators and specialized developers announcing successive waves of multi-gigawatt campuses across the United States. Electricity availability has replaced land and fiber as the industry’s primary constraint, pulling utilities, state regulators, and local governments into what was once a quiet corner of commercial real estate. Northern Virginia, the world’s largest data center market, became an early flashpoint for community opposition, and similar disputes have since surfaced in markets across the country, making siting politics a national story that policy institutions like Brookings now track.
Galaxy announced on July 5, 2026 that it has completed Phase I of its Helios data center campus in West Texas, delivering 133 megawatts (MW) of critical IT load to CoreWeave, the AI-focused cloud provider. Critical IT load refers to the power available to the computing equipment itself — servers and GPUs — as distinct from the total power a facility draws for cooling and other overhead.
The completion converts a site that began life as a Bitcoin mining campus into dedicated AI infrastructure under Galaxy’s long-term lease arrangement with CoreWeave, one of the most prominent examples of the crypto-to-AI conversion trend reshaping the data center market.
Executive Summary
Galaxy, the digital assets and data center infrastructure firm, has finished the first phase of its Helios campus buildout and handed over 133 MW of critical IT load to its anchor tenant CoreWeave. Phase I completion moves the project from promise to delivery: Helios is now an operating revenue-generating AI data center rather than a conversion story on a slide deck.
The milestone matters beyond Galaxy. Helios is the flagship test case for whether former cryptocurrency mining sites — which come with grid interconnections and power contracts already in place — can be economically retrofitted to the far more demanding standards of AI training and inference infrastructure. Delivering a first phase at this scale suggests the model can work, at least for sites with strong power positions.
For CoreWeave, the delivery adds substantial contracted capacity at a time when access to powered land and energized shells — not GPUs — is widely seen as the binding constraint on AI cloud growth.
Why Crypto Sites Became AI Real Estate
The most valuable asset in data center development today is not land or buildings but secured power: a grid interconnection agreement and the megawatts behind it. Bitcoin mining operators spent the late 2010s and early 2020s locking up exactly that, often in low-cost power markets like West Texas. When AI demand exploded, those interconnections became worth far more serving GPUs than mining rigs, because AI tenants sign long-term leases at data center economics rather than riding volatile crypto margins.
Galaxy’s Helios campus, acquired from a Bitcoin mining operator, is the highest-profile execution of that arbitrage. The conversion is not trivial — AI facilities require far denser power delivery, liquid or advanced air cooling, and enterprise-grade redundancy that mining sites never needed — but the timeline still beats greenfield development, where new grid interconnection requests can queue for years.
What 133 MW Actually Buys
133 MW of critical IT load is a substantial block of capacity by any historical standard — a few years ago it would have ranked among the larger single-tenant deployments in the world. In the AI era it is best understood as a first tranche: large frontier training clusters are increasingly specified in the hundreds of megawatts, and operators including Galaxy have discussed multi-phase expansion at Helios well beyond Phase I.
Because the load is contracted to a single tenant, the economics resemble a triple-net real estate deal more than a retail colocation business: predictable lease revenue over a long term, with Galaxy carrying development and delivery risk and CoreWeave carrying utilization risk. That structure has become the dominant template for AI data center finance because lenders can underwrite the lease.
Winners, Losers, and the Competitive Field
The clearest winners are holders of energized or near-energized power positions — converted mining sites, utilities with spare interconnection capacity, and developers who queued early. CoreWeave benefits by adding capacity faster than greenfield timelines would allow, supporting its competition with hyperscale clouds for AI workloads. The pressure lands on developers still waiting in interconnection queues, and on regions whose grids cannot absorb gigawatt-class requests.
The open competitive question is durability. Conversion sites tend to sit in remote, power-rich locations, which suits training workloads that tolerate latency. If the market shifts toward inference — which favors proximity to users — the value of remote megawatts could be repriced. Phase I’s completion answers the execution question; it does not settle the location question.
Background
Helios began as one of the larger Bitcoin mining campuses in the United States before Galaxy acquired the site and redirected it toward AI and high-performance computing. Galaxy subsequently signed long-term lease agreements making CoreWeave the campus’s anchor tenant, with capacity to be delivered in phases — Phase I, now complete, being the first.
The conversion sits inside a broader industry shift: as demand for AI compute outran the pace of new grid connections, sites with existing power infrastructure — many of them crypto mining facilities in Texas and the Mountain West — became prime targets for repurposing. Helios is widely watched as the leading proof point for whether that playbook delivers at scale.
Two homeowners in Birmingham, Alabama, have sued to stop construction of a large computer center being built by Nebius, a company that rents out the computing power behind artificial intelligence tools.
They say the city never properly approved it, and that the building work has already brought noise, shaking, dust, heavy trucks and damage to one home. They want the work stopped, the permits cancelled and money for the harm.
Why it matters: two neighbors and one local court could now affect when the project is finished. The first judge stepped aside, so another will be picked at random.
Two homeowners living near the Nebius AI data center under construction in Birmingham, Alabama, have filed a lawsuit asking a court to halt the work, ABC 33/40 (WBMA) reported on July 2, 2026. The suit claims the project was never properly approved under the city’s zoning rules. It also challenges Birmingham’s new data center ordinance and alleges that construction has already caused noise, vibrations, dust, heavy truck traffic and damage to one home.
The homeowners are asking the court to stop construction, void the project’s permits and award damages. The judge originally assigned to the case has recused herself, and the case will be randomly reassigned to another Jefferson County judge.
Executive Summary
On its face this is a local zoning dispute. The relief it seeks, however, reaches the core of the project: a halt to construction and the voiding of the permits the site is being built under. A data center is a building packed with servers, power and cooling equipment, and it cannot be finished without valid permits. A successful challenge would therefore send the project back through approvals rather than simply attach conditions to it.
The suit also targets Birmingham’s new data center ordinance, the rulebook the city wrote for exactly this kind of facility. That widens the stakes beyond one site. If the ordinance itself is found wanting, other projects that rely on it inherit the uncertainty. For Nebius, a provider of GPU cloud capacity (rented access to the graphics processors that train and run AI models), the practical question is schedule: when the building can start delivering capacity. That question now partly sits with a Jefferson County court.
The homeowners’ allegations are claims in a complaint, not findings. The court has not yet ruled on any of them.
How Two Plaintiffs Can Reach an Entire Build Schedule
Only two people have sued, but the leverage in a zoning case does not come from headcount. It comes from what is asked for. The homeowners want three things: damages, the voiding of the project’s permits, and a halt to construction. Damages are money and do not by themselves change the schedule. The other two can. An order stopping work idles crews and equipment on a site where power, cooling and hardware installation are sequenced in advance. Voided permits would mean re-establishing approvals before work could resume.
The legal theory matters as much as the relief. The suit claims the project was never properly approved under the city’s zoning rules. If that argument succeeds, the problem lies in the approval itself rather than in how the site is being run. A developer cannot fix an approval problem by changing site practices. It has to be cured through the municipal process, which runs on the city’s calendar rather than the developer’s.
The recusal adds a procedural step at the outset. The case now goes to another Jefferson County judge chosen at random. Until that judge takes the case and addresses the request to stop construction, whether work continues is an open question. The exposure runs to Nebius, its contractors, any customers expecting capacity from the site, and the City of Birmingham, whose approval is being challenged.
An Ordinance Challenge Is a Risk for More Than One Site
A data-center-specific ordinance normally gives developers certainty. It tells them what the city requires and what an approved project looks like. By challenging Birmingham’s new ordinance directly, the homeowners are contesting that certainty, not just this one application of it.
That puts the city in the position of defending both its approval of this project and the framework behind it. The outcome will signal to any developer weighing Birmingham whether the ordinance is a stable path to a permit or a contested one. A ruling that upholds the ordinance would strengthen it. A ruling against it would leave projects approved under it asking whether they need to revisit their approvals.
The same scrutiny applies to both sides. The homeowners’ zoning claim will stand or fall on the text of the ordinance and the approval record, which a court has not yet examined. The city’s and developer’s position that the project was properly approved faces the same test.
Construction Impacts Are the Part a Developer Controls
The nuisance allegations are noise, vibrations, dust, heavy truck traffic and damage to one home. They are a different kind of claim from the zoning challenge, because they concern how the site is being built, not whether it should be. That also makes them the category a developer can most directly address. Typical tools include truck routing and working-hours limits, dust suppression, vibration monitoring, and surveys of neighboring structures before and during construction.
The claim of damage to a home is specific, and whether construction caused it is a factual question that evidence can settle either way. Assurances that a site is being built responsibly are testable in the same way, through measurements and records.
For a neocloud, schedule is effectively part of the product. Nebius and its peers compete on how quickly they can bring GPU capacity online for AI developers, so a site that delivers late is a commercial problem, not only a construction one. That is why a two-plaintiff local suit deserves attention from people who track Nebius’s buildout: the case controls no chips or power, but it can affect the date the building is ready to use them.
Background
Nebius Group is an AI infrastructure company headquartered in Amsterdam and listed on Nasdaq. It emerged in 2024 from the restructuring of Yandex N.V., which sold its Russian businesses and kept its international operations. Nebius builds and operates data centers and sells GPU cloud capacity to AI developers. That makes it one of the so-called neoclouds, specialist providers that compete with the largest cloud platforms for AI computing work.
Its data center project in Birmingham, Alabama, has been locally controversial. Birmingham has adopted a new ordinance specifically governing data centers. That ordinance is now under legal challenge in Jefferson County alongside the Nebius project’s approvals.
Realty Income, one of the largest net-lease real estate investment trusts (REITs) in the United States, announced on June 30, 2026 a programmatic joint venture with Cloud Capital and an unnamed global institutional investor to invest in hyperscale data centers. The venture launches with initial seed assets valued at over $6 billion.
A programmatic joint venture is a standing framework for repeated investments over time, rather than a one-off deal — meaning the partners intend the $6 billion starting portfolio to be a foundation, not a ceiling.
Executive Summary
The announcement, distributed via PR Newswire, pairs a blue-chip income REIT with a data center-focused partner and institutional money to pursue hyperscale facilities — the massive, single-tenant campuses leased by cloud and AI platforms. At more than $6 billion in seed assets, this is among the larger data center capital formations announced by a traditional net-lease landlord, and it extends Realty Income’s earlier, more tentative steps into the sector.
Why it matters: the AI data center buildout has so far been financed largely by hyperscalers’ own balance sheets, specialist developers, private credit, and infrastructure funds. A programmatic vehicle anchored by a REIT best known for freestanding retail properties suggests the asset class has matured enough — in lease structure, tenant credit, and perceived durability — for conservative, income-oriented real estate capital to commit at scale. It also gives hyperscale developers and tenants another deep-pocketed buyer for stabilized assets, which can accelerate capital recycling across the industry.
Why Net-Lease Capital Is Converging on Hyperscale
Realty Income built its franchise on net leases — agreements where the tenant, not the landlord, pays taxes, insurance, and maintenance — signed with creditworthy tenants for long terms. Hyperscale data centers, typically leased in whole to a single cloud or AI platform for a decade or more, fit that template closely: long duration, investment-grade counterparties, and predictable cash flow. For a REIT whose traditional retail and industrial pipeline offers limited growth, data centers are one of the few property types with both scale and secular demand.
The structural fit works in the other direction too. Hyperscale developers need to recycle capital: building a campus ties up billions, and selling or partially selling stabilized facilities to income investors frees cash for the next project. A programmatic buyer with institutional backing gives the development side of the industry a reliable exit, which in turn supports the pace of the overall AI buildout.
The Programmatic Structure: Capital-Light Growth and Shared Risk
The choice of a programmatic joint venture, rather than direct balance-sheet acquisitions, is telling. In a JV, Realty Income can deploy less of its own equity per asset, share risk with partners, and potentially earn management fees — growing exposure to the sector without concentrating its balance sheet in a single property type. The inclusion of a global institutional investor, though unnamed in the announcement, indicates that pension-scale or sovereign-scale capital is comfortable underwriting hyperscale real estate alongside a public REIT.
The trade-off is that JV economics are more complex than wholly owned real estate. Ownership percentages, governance rights, and fee arrangements — none of which are detailed in the release — determine how much of the venture’s income actually reaches Realty Income shareholders. Investors will want those specifics before judging how meaningful $6 billion of seed assets is to the REIT’s earnings.
A $6 Billion Signal for the AI Financing Stack
The scale matters beyond one company. Industry estimates have consistently put the cost of the AI data center buildout in the hundreds of billions of dollars over the coming years — more than hyperscalers and specialist developers can comfortably self-fund. Each new pool of institutional capital that enters the sector lowers the financing bottleneck. A vehicle seeded at over $6 billion, structured for repeat investment, is a concrete data point that real estate allocators now treat AI infrastructure as a core holding rather than a speculative bet.
Winners from this shift include hyperscale tenants (more landlord competition for their leases), developers (deeper exit markets), and the power and construction ecosystem that feeds the buildout. The open question is pricing: as more conservative capital chases the same stabilized assets, acquisition yields compress, and late entrants risk paying peak prices for facilities whose long-term value depends on continued AI demand.
Risks the Lease Structure Cannot Fully Absorb
Long leases with strong tenants mitigate, but do not eliminate, the sector’s risks. Hyperscale assets are highly concentrated bets on a small set of tenants, and a single-tenant building is only as resilient as that tenant’s commitment to the site. Technology risk is real as well: rapid changes in chip density and cooling requirements can age a facility’s design faster than a 15-year lease runs. And power — securing it, pricing it, and defending it politically — has become the binding constraint on the industry. None of these risks argue against the deal; they define what disciplined underwriting in this venture must get right.
Background
Realty Income is an S&P 500 net-lease REIT with a decades-long record built on single-tenant properties — convenience stores, drugstores, grocery, and industrial facilities — leased on long-term contracts where tenants bear most operating costs. In recent years the company has diversified beyond U.S. retail, including earlier moves into data center investment alongside established sector operators, as traditional net-lease markets offered limited room for a company of its size to grow.
The hyperscale data center sector, meanwhile, has become one of the most capital-hungry corners of real estate. Demand from cloud computing and, since 2023, generative AI has driven a wave of multi-billion-dollar campus developments financed by hyperscaler balance sheets, specialist developers, infrastructure funds, and private credit. Programmatic ventures pairing operators with institutional capital have become a standard mechanism for funding that expansion.
Pennsylvania’s state House voted 201 to 1 to let towns stop considering new data centers for six months while they write rules for them. Data centers are the huge warehouses of computers that run artificial intelligence and online services.
Lawmakers also voted to end a tax break for these buildings that was expected to cost the state $517 million a year by 2030. That break was the reward in the governor’s plan to get builders to promise jobs, clean power and water limits.
If the break disappears, local town boards become the place these projects are decided. The state Senate still has to act.
With the June 30 state budget deadline days away, the Pennsylvania House passed three bills on data center development on June 24 and 25, 2026, the Pennsylvania Capital-Star reported. House Bill 2496 lets municipalities pause consideration of data center applications for 180 days and passed 201-1. House Bill 2650 writes Gov. Josh Shapiro’s Governor’s Responsible Infrastructure Development (GRID) Standards into law and passed 134-68. House Bill 2198 repeals the state’s 6% sales and use tax exemption on data center computer equipment and passed 197-5.
The tax exemption is projected to cost the commonwealth $517 million a year by 2030. On the afternoon of the House vote, the Senate adopted the repeal language as an amendment to a separate tax code bill. The other two bills now sit with the Republican-led Senate, which could send them to Shapiro or leave them unconsidered.
Executive Summary
Pennsylvania’s House has moved from courting large data centers to regulating them. In two days it voted for a local construction-review pause, a certification regime that ties tax benefits to disclosure and job commitments, and the repeal of the tax benefit that regime depends on.
The votes point in different directions. The GRID Standards are voluntary. Developers who meet targets on in-state clean energy, investment, prevailing-wage construction jobs and permanent jobs would get a sales tax exemption and faster permits. The repeal bill, which drew a 197-5 vote and quick Senate action, would eliminate that exemption. That leaves the standards with little to offer beyond permitting speed.
The measure with the broadest support was the local pause, which passed 201-1. For developers of AI-scale facilities in one of the country’s most active data center markets, the practical gate is moving from state tax terms to municipal land-use calendars. That shift is not yet final, because the Senate has not acted on the pause or the GRID bill.
The Incentive Is Going Before the Standards Arrive
Pennsylvania’s 6% sales and use tax exemption on data center computer equipment is about five years old. House Environmental Resources Committee Chairperson Greg Vitali, who sponsored the repeal, said it was passed “during an era when lawmakers were trying to attract them to the commonwealth.” It is now projected to cost $517 million a year by 2030. For a facility filled with servers, networking gear and storage, a sales tax on equipment is a real line item. Across a whole state’s pipeline, it has become a budget question.
The repeal has the most momentum of the three bills. It passed the House 197-5, and the Senate adopted the same language as an amendment to another tax code bill within hours. That creates a sequencing problem. HB 2650, passed a day earlier, is built on the exemption: it would make the tax break contingent on certification from the Department of Revenue. Rep. Craig Williams (R-Delaware) put it bluntly: “Like Lucy holding the football for Charlie Brown, we’re going to pull that football away.” Repeal supporters such as Rep. Kyle Mullins (D-Lackawanna) described the industry as “no longer an emerging sector looking for a foothold.” In their view the subsidy has simply outlived its purpose.
Why Leverage Shifts From Harrisburg to the Township Board
The GRID Standards are designed as a trade. A developer discloses its ownership structure, energy procurement strategy, water usage, community engagement and environmental plans, and meets investment and job floors. In return it gets the sales tax exemption and expedited permitting. Remove the exemption and the state’s offer shrinks to faster permits. That is a thinner inducement for a program that is voluntary. Critics were already skeptical that the largest companies would participate even with the tax benefit.
The tool that drew near-unanimous support is local. Under HB 2496, a municipality could stop considering data center applications for 180 days and use that time to adopt, amend or repeal the parts of its land use ordinance that cover data centers. Any application received during the pause would be treated as received the day after the pause ends. That detail matters. The pause does not reject projects. It holds them until new rules exist, so a proposal filed mid-pause would be judged against whatever ordinance the township writes. Rep. Paul Friel (D-Chester) noted that many rural municipalities have no zoning ordinance at all, and others lack provisions for facilities of this scale.
The people most affected are data center developers and their site-selection teams. Their schedule risk would be set by municipal meeting calendars rather than state tax terms. Landowners holding land options are also exposed, as are the utilities and power suppliers whose planning depends on when large new loads actually arrive. One borough in Lackawanna County faces 16 data center applications, according to Mullins, which shows how concentrated these decisions can become. There is an important caveat. If the repeal becomes law and the pause bill stalls in the Senate, Pennsylvania would have neither the state incentive nor the new local pause. Projects would proceed under existing ordinances, which Friel says many townships lack.
What the GRID Terms Say About Power and Scale
The certification requirements go beyond jobs. Developers would need to increase their use of clean energy from Pennsylvania sources step by step, reaching 32% by 2035. That makes the standards a power procurement rule, not just an economic development one. The other floors are:
at least $250 million in cumulative new investment;
at least 200 prevailing-wage construction jobs;
50 permanent jobs paying at least 125% of the statewide average wage within four years;
at least $1.5 million a year in compensation to full-time employees after that.
Energy procurement and water usage both appear on the application. That reflects the pressures lawmakers cited: large AI facilities draw heavily on water resources, energy infrastructure and public services. Pennsylvania sits inside PJM Interconnection, the regional grid operator for much of the mid-Atlantic and Midwest, where large new loads weigh directly on grid planning. The state’s most visible project shows how developers are responding to power constraints. The former Homer City Generating Station in Indiana County, once Pennsylvania’s largest coal-burning power plant, is being turned into a natural gas-powered data center campus, and construction was under way as of mid-May.
Testing Both Sides’ Claims
Williams argued that companies such as Google and the parent company of X “don’t care” about the sales tax exemption and would forgo it rather than accept conditions. The $517 million projection suggests the break is worth a lot in total, so it is hardly trivial. But total cost does not show that the exemption decides where any particular facility goes, and the debate did not include a developer saying either way.
Repeal supporters argue the break is “not needed,” and the volume of applications supports the claim that demand exists without it. Current filings, though, do not show what happens to marginal projects once the benefit is gone. Neither does the phrase “speculative gold rush,” which one legislator used, tell us how many of the dozens of hyperscale applications have tenants, power and financing behind them. A 180-day pause may be the mechanism that sorts firm projects from speculative land positions.
Background
Pennsylvania spent much of the past half-decade trying to attract data centers, including through a sales and use tax exemption on their computer equipment. The race to build artificial intelligence capacity has since produced hyperscale proposals across the commonwealth, and local officials are now weighing dozens of applications. Some of the most prominent projects repurpose power-plant sites, such as the former Homer City Generating Station, which is being converted from coal to a gas-powered data center campus.
Gov. Josh Shapiro outlined his approach to data center development in his February 2026 budget address and released details in May as the GRID Standards. The state is part of PJM Interconnection, the regional grid operator where the arrival of large new electricity loads has become a central planning concern. That places Pennsylvania’s policy choices at the intersection of land use, tax policy and power supply.
Montgomery County, Maryland, a large suburb just outside Washington, has stopped accepting building applications for new data centers for six months. Data centers are the huge warehouses of computers that run apps, online storage and artificial intelligence.
The surprise is that the pause also covers a project already proposed on the site of an old, shut-down power plant. Builders often like those sites because they are already wired into the electric grid.
Local leaders say they want rules on electricity, water and noise written before anything gets built.
On June 12, 2026, Montgomery County Executive Marc Elrich signed an executive order directing the county’s Department of Permitting Services to stop accepting, processing and considering permit applications for new data centers. Montgomery County announced that the order takes effect immediately and sets a six-month moratorium, which can end sooner if the County Council adopts permanent zoning rules for data centers.
The pause applies to projects already proposed, including a potential data center at the site of the decommissioned power plant in Dickerson, in the county’s western reaches along the Potomac River. Council Vice President Marilyn Balcombe and Councilmembers Will Jawando and Kristin Mink backed the order.
Executive Summary
Montgomery County has frozen data center permitting for six months so its County Council can write a legal framework for the industry. The county said the order responds to concerns about data centers’ energy consumption, water use for cooling, and noise near homes. It is a pause, not a ban: officials described it as time to set rules before applications move forward.
What makes the order consequential is its scope. Elrich said his approach differs from an earlier proposal by Council Member Glass that would have exempted the Dickerson site and let it keep moving through permitting. His order does not exempt it. A project on a retired power plant parcel, which is the kind of site developers typically prize for its existing grid ties, now waits in the same line as everything else.
For developers and investors, the signal is that in Montgomery County, a site’s power-plant legacy is not a substitute for local approval. The rules that emerge on clean energy, water, noise and labor will determine whether the county remains a practical option next to one of the world’s densest data center markets.
Why a Retired Power Plant Didn’t Earn a Head Start
For data center developers, a decommissioned power plant is often one of the most attractive parcels available. Such sites are usually already used for heavy industry, and they sit where high-voltage transmission lines once carried the plant’s output to the grid. That matters because the scarce input for today’s AI-driven data center buildout is electricity, not land. Connecting a large new electricity customer can take years, and a site with an existing grid footprint is widely seen as a way to shorten that wait.
Montgomery County’s order removes that advantage for Dickerson. Elrich explicitly contrasted his order with Council Member Glass’s earlier proposal, which exempted the Dickerson site. Councilmember Mink said a large data center is in the permitting process now and that the order covers it “and all others,” calling that an important distinction. Councilmember Jawando said the moratorium bill he introduced in May was the only one that covered the Dickerson project. The county’s elected leadership treated the site’s history as no reason to let it proceed ahead of the rules.
The reasoning is visible in the concerns officials named: grid strain, brownouts, water for cooling, noise, and watershed protection. An existing transmission connection addresses whether power can physically reach a site. It does not answer whether the county wants that load on its local system, where cooling water comes from, or how loud cooling equipment will be near homes. The Dickerson developer is the first party affected. The same logic applies to any developer or landowner that has valued retired generating sites on the assumption that local approval follows the grid connection. In Montgomery County, at least, it does not.
What Six Months Is Meant to Produce
The moratorium is scheduled to expire in six months, around mid-December 2026. It ends earlier if the County Council adopts Zoning Text Amendments, which are changes to the written zoning code that define where a use is allowed and under what conditions. In practice, the pause gives the Council a deadline. If permanent rules arrive first, the freeze lifts on them.
Officials have already sketched what they want those rules to cover. Jawando listed “clean energy, no subsidies, union labor, and a safe watershed.” Mink wants the County Noise Ordinance updated and watershed protections established. Climate Change Officer Sarah Kogel-Smucker said the goal is to align data center development with the county’s climate goals through best practices for clean energy and efficient cooling. Each of these would raise a project’s costs or narrow its design choices. Clean-energy requirements affect how a facility buys power. Water limits push operators toward cooling systems that use less water, which can mean more electricity. A no-subsidy stance removes the tax incentives many jurisdictions use to compete for these projects.
None of these positions has become law yet, and they will not all carry equal weight. How the Council balances them will decide whether Montgomery becomes a place where data centers can be built under strict conditions or one where the conditions make the economics hard to close. Balcombe framed the intent as the former: “The moratorium does not mean we stop; it means we work harder.”
A Pause on the Doorstep of Data Center Alley
Montgomery County sits across the Potomac River from Loudoun County, Virginia, whose Ashburn area is known as Data Center Alley and hosts one of the largest concentrations of data centers in the world. Maryland and Northern Virginia are both served by PJM Interconnection, the grid operator for much of the mid-Atlantic. That is why concerns about grid strain and brownouts carry weight on both sides of the river.
The order should not be read as more than it is. It is one county’s six-month pause, and it does not by itself redirect regional demand. What it does show is that a jurisdiction immediately adjacent to the industry’s busiest cluster has chosen to write rules before approving projects, including one on a site with an energy-industry past. Jawando cast the decision in national terms, saying communities across the country face the same choice. Developers looking for land near Northern Virginia’s network and power infrastructure now have one fewer county where timing is predictable.
Weighing the Claims on Both Sides
The order’s stated rationale includes serious claims, notably brownouts. Whether any single facility would contribute to them depends on its size and on the utility’s planning, and officials framed the risks in general terms rather than attaching load or water figures to the Dickerson project. The rules the Council writes will be more durable if they rest on measured impacts rather than on the general reputation of the industry.
The same scrutiny applies to the other side of the argument. Jawando’s description of “corporate promises of profits that may never come” is a political judgment, not a finding. Kogel-Smucker’s observation that data centers are “critical to our digital economy” is the counterweight. No jobs, tax revenue or investment figures for the Dickerson project were offered at the announcement to test either view. The six months are most useful if both the county and the developer put those numbers on the table.
Background
Montgomery County is a large suburban county bordering Washington, D.C., to the northwest, with its western edge on the Potomac River. Across the river lies Loudoun County, Virginia, home to Ashburn’s Data Center Alley, one of the largest concentrations of data centers anywhere. Data center demand across the region has grown with cloud computing and, more recently, artificial intelligence workloads, which require large amounts of electricity and cooling.
Montgomery County had been working toward data center rules before the order. Its Climate Change Officer co-led a community forum on data centers in February 2026, Council Member Glass had put forward a proposal that exempted the Dickerson site, and Councilmember Jawando introduced a moratorium bill in May that covered Dickerson. Elrich’s June 12 executive order paused permitting while the Council finishes that work.
Kentucky’s two biggest cities are drawing lines around the giant computer warehouses being built to run artificial intelligence.
Louisville proposed a size limit of 500,000 square feet, roughly nine football fields. Only three months earlier, the city approved one about 28 football fields big. Lexington stopped accepting new applications until October 31 after neighbors objected to plans to expand one.
Why it matters: city halls, not just tech companies, are now deciding how big these buildings can get and where they can go.
Kentucky’s two largest cities moved on June 9 to rein in hyperscale data centers, the Kentucky Lantern reported. Lexington’s Urban County Council suspended its legislative rules to impose a moratorium on data center applications through Oct. 31 while it writes zoning amendments. The same day, the Louisville Metro Planning Commission released a draft ordinance that would ban any data center larger than 500,000 square feet and restrict facilities over 250,000 square feet to industrial areas.
Louisville residents have 30 days to comment on the draft before it goes to Louisville Metro Council. In March, the same planning commission approved a 1.6 million-square-foot data center in West Louisville despite local opposition.
Executive Summary
Lexington and Louisville took different routes to the same goal on the same afternoon. Lexington hit pause: no new data center applications until Oct. 31, prompted by a developer’s purchase of a local data center property that it intends to expand. Louisville went straight to rules: a draft siting ordinance with a hard size ceiling of 500,000 square feet and industrial-only zoning for anything over 250,000 square feet.
The significance lies in the numbers. Louisville’s proposed ceiling is less than a third of the size of the facility the city approved three months earlier. For developers planning large AI campuses, that means the maximum scale of a project in Kentucky’s biggest city may be fixed by a planning document, regardless of what the grid or the supply chain could support.
Both cities cited resident concern. Lexington Mayor Linda Gorton said she supports “very tight controls” and that the city does not support public incentives for the developer seeking to expand.
A Ceiling Set Below a Third of March’s Approval
The number that carries this story is the gap between two Louisville decisions made three months apart. In March, the Louisville Metro Planning Commission approved a 1.6 million-square-foot data center in West Louisville over local objections. On June 9, the same commission released a draft ordinance that would ban any data center larger than 500,000 square feet, less than a third of that approved facility, and confine anything over 250,000 square feet to industrial zones.
This is how local zoning becomes a constraint on the scale of AI buildout. Hyperscale campuses, the very large facilities built for cloud and AI operators, draw much of their economic advantage from concentration: one site, one large electrical connection, one security perimeter, shared cooling infrastructure. A hard floor-area ceiling means a developer who wants that scale in Louisville would have to split it across buildings or sites, if the final ordinance allows that at all, or build somewhere else. In either case, the largest permissible project is being set by the planning code, independent of what power and equipment supply could support.
The effects fall on specific groups: developers and landowners holding Louisville sites, the local utility planning for large new electrical loads, and residents who opposed the March approval. Brian Davis, director of Louisville’s office of planning, described the goal as “clear, achievable standards that provide transparency and clarity for both residents and potential developers.” Clarity does have value for investors, since a known ceiling is easier to finance around than a case-by-case fight. But the ceiling sits well below the size of the projects that prompted it.
Two Cities, Two Tools: Pause Versus Rulebook
Lexington and Louisville used different instruments on the same day. Lexington’s council suspended its legislative rules to impose a moratorium through Oct. 31 while it drafts zoning amendments: pause first, rules later. Louisville, where a separate committee tabled a data center moratorium earlier in June, went straight to draft regulations and opened a 30-day public comment period before the ordinance reaches Metro Council.
For developers, the difference matters. A moratorium stops the clock entirely and leaves the eventual rules unknown. Lexington’s amendments could end in controls or, potentially, an outright ban. A draft ordinance keeps applications possible and tells the market roughly what it will face. Neither city has final rules today, and Lexington’s pause alone runs for nearly five months.
Lexington’s action was triggered by a single transaction, a developer buying an existing local data center property with plans to expand it. Council member Emma Curtis called it “a case of an issue being expedited because of constituent concern and advocacy.” That is a direct statement that resident objections, not a staff study, set the timetable. That is a legitimate part of local democracy. It also means the rules will be written with one specific project in view.
Square Feet Are a Blunt Proxy for the Grid
Mayor Gorton stated the concern most clearly: data centers “do not produce many jobs, and have the potential to increase utility costs on local residents.” Both points are common in these debates, and both deserve the same scrutiny applied to developers’ promises of economic benefit. Gorton did not attach figures to either claim. Whether a large facility actually raises household bills depends heavily on how the utility and state regulators assign the cost of new generation and transmission, and neither city’s action settles that question.
That exposes a limit in Louisville’s approach. Floor area is easy to measure and enforce, but it is only an indirect measure of what worries residents most: electricity demand. Servers built for AI draw far more power per rack than conventional cloud equipment, so two buildings of the same size can place very different loads on the grid. A 500,000-square-foot cap controls land use, traffic and physical footprint. It controls power draw only loosely.
For industry readers, the practical point is that Kentucky’s largest cities are regulating the most visible dimension of data centers first. Site selection now depends on local square-footage thresholds as well as power availability and land cost, and Louisville’s shift between March and June shows those thresholds can move within a single planning cycle.
Background
Kentucky has long hosted smaller data centers supporting services such as cloud storage. The wave of investment in artificial intelligence has brought a different class of facility nationwide: hyperscale data centers that can consume as much electricity as an entire power plant and can span millions of square feet.
Louisville has already experienced that shift. In March its Planning Commission approved a 1.6 million-square-foot data center in West Louisville despite local pushback, and earlier in June a separate city committee tabled a proposed data center moratorium. Lexington’s action followed a developer’s purchase of an existing local data center property with plans to expand it.
Texas Governor Greg Abbott has publicly called for regulators to clamp down on data centers, according to a June 11, 2026 report from E&E News by POLITICO headlined “Texas governor talks tough on data centers, calls for clampdown.” The remarks signal a potential policy shift in the state that has become one of the largest and fastest-growing data center markets in the United States.
The syndicated report available to us carries only the headline, so the specific mechanisms the governor proposed — and which regulators he addressed — are not detailed in the source material.
Executive Summary
The significance here is less about any single proposal and more about who is speaking. Texas has spent years courting data centers with cheap power, fast permitting, abundant land, and a light-touch regulatory reputation. When the governor of that state “talks tough” and calls for a clampdown, it suggests the political calculus around hyperscale computing growth is changing even in the market most identified with welcoming it.
The pressure has been building. Texas’ independent grid, operated by the Electric Reliability Council of Texas (ERCOT — the body that manages electricity flow for most of the state), has projected enormous demand growth driven heavily by large loads such as data centers. In 2025 the state enacted Senate Bill 6, a law giving regulators new tools to manage very large electricity users, including requirements that they be able to reduce consumption during grid emergencies. Gubernatorial rhetoric about a clampdown, if it translates into rulemaking or legislation, would extend that trajectory.
For the industry, the message is straightforward: even in the most development-friendly major market, social license is not unconditional. Grid reliability, cost allocation, and community impact are now live political issues that developers must plan for rather than assume away.
When the Friendliest Market Turns Cautious
Texas — anchored by the Dallas–Fort Worth metro, one of the largest data center hubs in the world, plus fast-growing clusters in San Antonio, Austin, and West Texas — has been a primary beneficiary of the AI-driven construction boom. Developers chose Texas precisely because its political environment favored speed: deregulated retail electricity, no state income tax, and officials who actively recruited large projects. A governor from that same political tradition calling for a clampdown is therefore a meaningful signal, whatever the eventual policy details turn out to be.
It is worth being precise about what a headline can and cannot tell us. “Talks tough” and “clampdown” are the reporter’s characterizations; the underlying remarks could range from a demand for strict new siting rules to a narrower push for large loads to pay their own way on the grid. Political rhetoric about data centers also does not always convert into binding regulation. But the direction of travel matches a broader national pattern in 2025–2026: statehouses in both parties’ hands have moved from recruiting data centers to scrutinizing them.
The Grid Is the Battleground
The most likely driver is electricity. ERCOT has repeatedly flagged that large flexible loads — data centers, crypto miners, industrial electrification — are the dominant source of projected demand growth, on a grid that already suffered a catastrophic failure during Winter Storm Uri in 2021. Every gigawatt of new computing load raises two politically sensitive questions: can the grid stay reliable, and who pays for the transmission and generation needed to serve it?
Texas’ 2025 Senate Bill 6 was the first major answer, imposing interconnection requirements on very large loads and enabling their curtailment (mandatory reduction of power use) in emergencies. A gubernatorial call for further clampdown suggests officials may view those tools as insufficient — or at least politically insufficient — as residential ratepayer concerns about rising bills and water use gain traction. For an industry whose product is uptime, curtailment obligations and slower interconnection are direct commercial threats, which is why many operators are already investing in on-site generation and storage to reduce their grid dependence.
Winners, Losers, and the Cost of Uncertainty
If Texas tightens meaningfully, the near-term losers are speculative developers whose pipeline value depends on fast, cheap grid connections. Established operators with secured power and existing interconnection agreements arguably benefit, since barriers to entry protect incumbents. Utilities and grid operators gain leverage to demand stronger financial commitments from data center customers, reducing the risk that infrastructure is built for projects that never materialize — a growing concern given inflated interconnection queues nationwide.
Competing markets should temper their enthusiasm, though. Rival states may market themselves as alternatives, but most face their own power constraints, and Texas’ fundamental advantages — land, energy resources, and scale — do not disappear because of tougher rules. The more realistic outcome is not an exodus but a repricing: longer timelines, more self-supplied power, and heavier upfront commitments becoming the standard cost of building in Texas. For buyers of data center capacity, that ultimately flows into pricing and delivery schedules.
Background
Texas rose to the top tier of global data center markets over the past decade on the strength of cheap and abundant energy, available land, fast permitting, and active state recruitment. The AI construction boom that accelerated from 2023 onward magnified that growth, with hyperscale campuses proposed across the Dallas–Fort Worth area, Central Texas, and West Texas — and with them, unprecedented projected demand on the ERCOT grid, which operates independently of the two large interconnections serving the rest of the continental U.S.
The politics shifted as the load forecasts grew. After the deadly 2021 winter blackout exposed the grid’s fragility, Texas lawmakers grew warier of unmanaged demand growth, culminating in 2025’s Senate Bill 6, which created a regulatory framework for very large electricity users. The governor’s June 2026 call for a clampdown, as reported by E&E News, suggests that framework may have been a starting point rather than a settlement.
Ohio lawmakers want to shrink a tax break for data centers, the giant warehouses of computers that run artificial intelligence and online services. The break cost the state roughly $1.6 billion last year. The bill would cut it in half.
The bigger fight is over electricity bills. These buildings use so much power that new power lines and power plants have to be built. Manufacturers and environmental groups warn that ordinary households could end up paying part of that cost.
Senators aimed to pass the bill within a day.
Ohio state Sen. Brian Chavez unveiled a sweeping data center bill on Tuesday, June 9, attaching a long list of policy changes to a measure originally written only to study the issue, the Ohio Capital Journal reported. The proposal would cut the state’s discretionary sales and use tax exemption for data centers from 100% to 50%, or 75% for projects that build on brownfields and bring their own power. The exemption has grown to roughly $1.6 billion in the last year. The bill would also cap local property tax abatements at 50%, end data center access to Ohio’s 30-year mega project job creation grant, require data centers to track and report water use, and direct the Public Utilities Commission of Ohio (PUCO) to create a separate electricity rate class for data centers.
The Senate Energy Committee was scheduled to advance the bill Wednesday morning, June 10, with a full Senate vote planned for later the same day.
Executive Summary
Ohio’s bill is one of the broadest state-level rewrites of data center policy so far. It covers tax incentives, nondisclosure agreements, water monitoring, utility billing, and a new surety bond meant to protect local governments. The tax provisions are the most concrete part. A roughly $1.6 billion incentive would be cut in half, with a larger 75% break reserved for projects on brownfields (previously developed, often contaminated land) that supply their own electricity.
The provision that drew the sharpest testimony was the proposed data center rate class. It is modeled on the tariff PUCO approved for AEP Ohio last year, which the Ohio Manufacturers’ Association is now challenging in the Ohio Supreme Court. The underlying question is the one now running through every state served by PJM Interconnection, the regional grid operator: when AI-era data centers drive new transmission, distribution and generation spending, who ends up paying for it? PJM plans a backstop auction in September to secure 15 gigawatts of new generation. It has warned that without state rules, those costs could fall on other consumers, including residential customers.
With a committee vote and a floor vote planned within about a day of introduction, the chance to refine the rate-class language before the Senate acts was limited.
Tax Policy That Doubles as Power Policy
The headline change is a 50% cut to the sales and use tax exemption. The more revealing detail is the exception. Projects keep a 75% break only if they build on brownfields and bring their own power. That condition ties Ohio’s largest data center incentive to a developer’s grid footprint as well as its capital spending. In practice, the state would be paying a premium for sites that reuse industrial land and lean less on utility-supplied electricity.
Other provisions point the same way. Capping local property tax abatements at 50% and removing access to the 30-year mega project job creation grant both reduce the long-term public subsidy a single campus can collect. Together, these changes suggest Ohio is trying to stay open to data center investment while no longer competing mainly on how much tax it will forgo. Developers already planning Ohio sites will need to revisit their project economics. Those able to secure their own generation gain a relative advantage. The bill does not define what counts as bringing their own power, and that definition will matter.
The Harder Fight Is the Rate Class
The tax changes drew relatively little objection in testimony. The utility billing provision did not. The bill directs PUCO to create a data center rate class that assigns generation, distribution and transmission costs to data centers, similar to AEP Ohio’s existing data center tariff. The Ohio Manufacturers’ Association, already challenging that tariff in court, opposed extending the model statewide. Its energy consultant, John Seryak, described one project in AES Ohio’s territory that would need roughly $230 million in supplemental grid equipment. He said that once the cost is financed over 40 years with return on equity and interest, it comes to about $850 million, and the tariff would recover only $300 million of it. These are the association’s estimates, not audited figures. But the mechanism is plain. If a rate class spreads a project’s costs over years and collects less than the full lifetime cost, the gap has to be paid by someone else on the system.
Seryak raised a second concern about the minimum monthly demand payments these tariffs impose. Minimum payments are generally meant to ensure a large customer covers the capacity built for it. He argued they could also inflate utilities’ load forecasts, pushing them to plan for more capacity whose cost is then spread across all ratepayers. They could also weaken a data center’s incentive to use power efficiently. The Ohio Environmental Council Action Fund raised a related gap. Nolan Rutschilling asked lawmakers to add explicit language telling PUCO how to handle PJM’s September backstop auction for 15 gigawatts of new generation. He said the large-load tariff might cover it, but the bill should make sure it does. The affected parties are clear. Manufacturers and households pay if costs leak out of the rate class. Developers pay more if it is written tightly. Utilities have to forecast and build against whatever the final design encourages.
Water, NDAs and Local Leverage
On water, the bill directs the Ohio EPA to develop a water quality testing plan and report any anomalies. Data centers would have to track and report their water use and adopt conservation practices, including closed-loop cooling, which recirculates coolant rather than continually drawing fresh water. This gives regulators data they currently lack. It does not set usage caps.
The nondisclosure agreement provision drew criticism from both parties. The bill states that an NDA cannot prohibit or limit the release of a public record. Sen. Bill DeMora, D-Columbus, said this “does nothing to stop NDAs,” because it does not ban them. Sen. Jerry Cirino, R-Kirtland, worried from the other direction that the bill could hurt data centers’ ability to negotiate with local governments. The proposed surety bond is the most unusual local protection. It would equal the average salary of all of a data center’s workers over ten years, which Chavez described as “financial insurance” for affected communities. Save Ohio Parks asked for some carbon-free energy requirements and pointed to diesel backup generators as a pollution concern. The bill as introduced does not include such a requirement.
Speed Leaves the Details Unsettled
Chavez’s timeline, with a floor vote potentially one day after introduction, means the most contested language faced little revision in the Senate. DeMora warned that “anything the legislature does in a swift amount of time ends up being bad for everybody.” The risk is concentrated in the rate-class provision. The tax percentages are simple numbers. The cost-allocation rules are not, and they would be left largely to PUCO to design while the AEP tariff remains in litigation.
For the wider PJM region, Ohio’s bill is a sign of where state policy is heading. Incentives are being trimmed and made conditional, while the real policy work moves to utility commissions and tariff design. That is where the costs of AI-driven load growth will actually be divided.
Background
Ohio, particularly central Ohio, has become a major destination for large data center campuses. Its utilities, including AEP Ohio and AES Ohio, are part of the PJM Interconnection grid, which covers all or parts of 13 states and Washington, D.C. As AI-driven demand for computing power has grown, PJM and its member states have struggled with how to pay for the transmission lines, substations and power plants needed to serve that load without shifting costs onto existing customers.
PUCO approved a data center tariff for AEP Ohio last year to assign more of those costs to data centers. The tariff is now under challenge by the Ohio Manufacturers’ Association in the Ohio Supreme Court. Chavez’s bill draws on testimony from the Ohio Senate’s Select Committee on Data Centers and would extend a similar rate-class approach across the state’s utilities.
