Two campaign groups are trying to overturn Cape Town’s approval of two very large Equinix data centers near the city’s airport. Data centers are warehouse-sized buildings full of computers that run cloud storage, websites and artificial intelligence.
The site could draw about 170 megawatts of electricity, comparable to the round-the-clock demand of a sizeable town. Critics say the approval came without clear figures on water and power use, in a city that nearly ran out of water in 2018.
Equinix says it owns the land but has not yet filed detailed building plans.
Housing Assembly and the UK-based organization Foxglove have appealed a municipal approval for two large Equinix data centers planned for the King Air Industria industrial area near Cape Town International Airport, Benin Web TV reported, citing the Financial Times. The project is estimated at roughly 170 megawatts (MW) of capacity on a site of about 122,500 square meters. Cape Town’s municipal planning tribunal approved it in July despite objections.
The appellants say the approval rested on insufficient detail about water consumption, electricity demand, backup diesel generators, emissions and noise, and they want a new assessment before the project proceeds. Equinix confirmed it has acquired the land. It said no detailed development plan has been submitted yet and that it will continue talking with stakeholders if the project moves forward.
Executive Summary
The appeal puts one of the largest publicly discussed data center proposals in Africa’s most developed data center market under formal review. The objection does not claim the campus is inherently unacceptable. It argues that the city approved the project before anyone had quantified the resources it would consume. If the appeal succeeds, developers may have to submit a new application or provide more information before development continues.
The case matters beyond one site. South Africa holds about 70% of Africa’s data center capacity, according to Financial Times estimates, and that growth is driven by cloud services and artificial intelligence workloads. The South African Human Rights Commission told the Associated Press it has received more than 250 submissions in a consultation on how data centers affect water, electricity, land and communities. For operators, the Cape Town appeal is an early test of how much resource disclosure regulators and communities will expect, and at what stage of a project they will expect it.
An Approval Granted Before the Blueprint
The dispute contains a timing tension. The planning tribunal approved two data centers in July, but Equinix says no detailed development plan has been submitted. Large developments often move through stages: land-use or zoning consent first, then detailed site and building plans. At those later stages, designs for cooling, power connections and backup generation become concrete. An early-stage approval can be legitimate while still leaving the resource questions unanswered.
That is the gap the appellants are targeting. Their argument is essentially about sequencing: the water, electricity, diesel and noise numbers should be on the table before the city commits, not after. Equinix’s position points the other way. It says it is not yet at the detailed-plan stage and would continue engaging stakeholders if the project advances. The appeal will likely turn on which standard the municipal process requires at the approval stage.
Water, Power and Diesel in a City That Remembers Day Zero
Each resource concern maps to a real engineering choice. Data centers shed heat. Evaporative cooling uses less electricity but consumes water, while closed-loop and air-based systems use little water but more power. In Cape Town, where the 2018 “Day Zero” scare brought the city close to turning off municipal taps, the water side of that trade-off is politically sensitive. The electricity side is sensitive too, in a country whose national grid has long struggled with supply.
Backup diesel generators are the less-discussed issue. Operators install them so servers keep running during grid outages. Where the grid is unreliable, generators may run more often than in markets where they are rarely used, which raises the emissions and noise questions the appellants cite. The site sits in an industrial area near an airport, which may shape how noise is assessed. Emissions and fuel storage still need their own analysis.
Scrutiny Is Becoming a Market-Wide Cost
The Human Rights Commission’s consultation shows that the debate in South Africa is broadening from individual permits to how the whole sector is regulated. For developers, that raises the likely cost of permitting: more studies, more disclosure, longer timelines and more exposure to appeal. Operators that can document low-water cooling, credible power sourcing and limited generator use may find approvals easier to defend. Those that cannot may face delays.
Customers have a stake too. Cloud providers, enterprises and network operators that rely on South Africa as the continent’s main data center hub need capacity to arrive on schedule. A longer, more contested approval path in Cape Town could shift demand toward sites with clearer permits or delay the capacity growth the market expects.
Fair Questions for Both Sides
The appellants’ core request, quantified resource data before final commitment, is a reasonable planning principle. Their case would be stronger with specifics: which thresholds or disclosures would satisfy them, and whether full data can realistically exist before detailed designs do. Calling for a new assessment is different from showing that the project’s impacts would be unacceptable, and the reported objections so far focus on missing information rather than demonstrated harm.
Equinix’s statement is also limited. Saying no detailed plan has been filed explains the absence of numbers but does not provide any. The 170 MW estimate has not been confirmed as the company’s own figure, and it has not described cooling technology, power sourcing or backup arrangements for the site. Early voluntary disclosure of design intentions would give the tribunal, the appellants and the public a factual basis for the debate.
Background
Equinix is a US-based, publicly traded digital infrastructure company that operates data centers and interconnection hubs worldwide, where networks, cloud providers and enterprises connect directly to each other. It entered African markets through its 2022 acquisition of West African operator MainOne and has since expanded its presence on the continent, including in South Africa.
South Africa is Africa’s largest data center market. Cape Town and Johannesburg host most of the continent’s capacity, alongside major cloud regions. The country’s growth has come with resource concerns: Cape Town’s near-miss with running out of municipal water in 2018 and the national grid’s long-running supply problems have made water and electricity central to public debate over large new energy users.
The Associated Press reports that governors’ races across the United States are being increasingly buffeted by what it calls the toxic politics of data centers. The facilities that power the AI and cloud economy — and the electricity, water, and land they consume — have moved from zoning-board obscurity to the center stage of statewide campaigns.
Executive Summary
According to AP’s reporting, data centers have crossed a political threshold: they are no longer a local land-use question decided quietly by county boards, but a statewide campaign issue that candidates for governor are being forced to answer for. The word choice matters — ‘toxic’ signals that the issue now carries more downside than upside for politicians, regardless of party.
For the infrastructure industry, this is a material shift in the operating environment. Governors appoint utility commissioners, sign or veto tax-incentive legislation, and set the tone for state permitting agencies. When the people seeking that office campaign against — or hedge on — data center growth, the political risk premium on every new site goes up. Siting risk, long treated as a paperwork problem, is becoming an electoral one.
From Zoning Boards to the Ballot Box
For most of the industry’s history, data center approvals were decided in county planning meetings that almost nobody attended. The AI build-out changed the scale of the ask: modern campuses draw utility-grade electricity, meaningful volumes of water for cooling, and large tracts of land, often near residential areas. That scale made the facilities visible, and visibility made them political. AP’s framing — governors’ races ‘buffeted’ by the issue — captures the escalation: the debate has jumped two levels of government, from town hall to statehouse.
The mechanism is straightforward. Residents connect rising electricity bills, strained grids, and changed landscapes to the server farms appearing nearby, and they take that frustration to the most visible official on the ballot. Candidates then face a bad trade: embrace data centers and own the utility-bill anger, or oppose them and own the lost jobs and tax revenue. That no-win structure is what makes an issue ‘toxic’ in campaign terms.
Why Governors Matter More Than Mayors
A hostile county board can kill one project; a hostile governor can reshape an entire state’s pipeline. Governors influence public utility commissions that decide who pays for grid upgrades, sign the tax-abatement packages that make site economics work, and direct the environmental agencies that issue water and air permits. If campaigning against data centers proves to be a winning message, the policy consequences will outlast any single election cycle.
The economics compound the risk. Data centers are decade-scale capital commitments made against assumptions about power pricing, tax treatment, and permitting timelines. An election that flips a state from courting the industry to constraining it can strand those assumptions mid-project. Operators and their investors now have to underwrite political volatility the way they underwrite grid interconnection queues.
Winners, Losers, and the Flight to Friendly Ground
The likely near-term effect is sorting. Capital will tilt toward jurisdictions where the political climate is settled — states, and increasingly specific utility territories, where community benefit agreements, transparent power-cost allocation, and water-efficient designs have kept the backlash manageable. States where data centers become a campaign punching bag risk watching projects, and the associated construction jobs and tax base, route around them.
The industry’s own conduct will help decide which column each state lands in. Secretive land assemblies, non-disclosure agreements around utility deals, and cost-shifting onto residential ratepayers are the fuel of the backlash. Operators that show up early, disclose resource demands, pay their full share of grid costs, and design for minimal water draw are effectively buying political insurance. In an environment where a governor’s race can reprice a state’s entire pipeline, that insurance is no longer optional.
Background
Data centers are the physical backbone of the internet, cloud computing, and artificial intelligence — warehouse-scale buildings full of servers that require enormous amounts of electricity and, in many designs, water for cooling. For two decades states actively courted them with tax incentives, prizing their construction jobs and property-tax revenue while their modest visibility kept public attention low.
The generative-AI boom broke that equilibrium. Facilities grew from tens of megawatts to campus-scale power draws rivaling heavy industry, land acquisitions became front-page news in host communities, and questions about who pays for grid expansion landed on residential utility bills. The AP’s report marks the point at which that accumulated friction became statewide electoral politics.
Google is planning a $3 billion computer-server complex in rural southwest Virginia. A water deal signed last year allowed it to eventually draw up to 8 million gallons a day, roughly a dozen Olympic swimming pools, while the region faces drought.
After local pushback, Google says its first building will be cooled with air instead of water. But that covers only one of three buildings, and air cooling usually burns more electricity. Residents now want to know how much, and where that power comes from.
Google confirmed on Friday, July 24, 2026, that the first building of its proposed $3 billion data center campus at the Botetourt Center at Greenfield in Botetourt County, Virginia, will use air cooling rather than water to keep its equipment cool, Virginia Business reported. Cooling for the campus’s two other planned buildings “remains under active evaluation,” according to an update on botetourtcountydatacenter.com.
The decision follows community concern over Google’s October 2025 utility services funding agreement with the Western Virginia Water Authority, which anticipated up to 8 million gallons of water per day at full buildout and no more than 2 million gallons per day initially.
Executive Summary
Google has chosen air cooling for the first of three buildings on its Botetourt County campus. A Google spokesperson said the company “determined that air cooling was the appropriate solution based on the facility’s needs and our focus on operating efficiently and responsibly,” and the project website described the choice as “driven by business demand and infrastructure requirements.”
The announcement is a meaningful concession to local water concerns, arriving as the neighboring Roanoke drought region sits at emergency status. But it is scoped narrowly. It settles one building, not the campus, and Google has not published a revised water estimate or said whether the 8-million-gallon full-buildout figure in its water agreement still reflects its plans.
It also shifts the debate rather than ending it. Cooling a data center without water generally means spending more electricity, and a local group, the Southwest Virginia Data Center Transparency Alliance, is now asking how much power the facility will need and where it will come from.
One Building of Three Doesn’t Move the Ceiling
The number that alarmed residents was 8 million gallons a day, the full-buildout figure in Google’s October 2025 agreement with the Western Virginia Water Authority. That figure describes the whole campus. The July 24 decision covers only the first building, and the project website says the other two remain under evaluation. Nothing in Google’s statement revises the agreement’s terms or offers a new campus-wide estimate.
That matters because of how utility planning works. A water authority sizing pipes, treatment and supply commitments plans against the maximum a customer is entitled to draw, not the amount the first phase happens to use. As long as the agreement anticipates up to 8 million gallons at buildout, the authority, local officials and neighboring communities are still planning around that ceiling. The first building likely draws well under the agreement’s 2-million-gallon initial limit, but Google has not said by how much.
So the practical effect is a deferral. The first phase gets lighter on water; the larger question of what the finished campus will consume moves to the decision on buildings two and three, which has no announced timeline.
Water Saved Is Power Spent
Data centers turn nearly all the electricity they use into heat, and that heat has to go somewhere. Evaporative, or water-based, cooling removes it efficiently by evaporating water, much as sweat cools skin. Air-based systems avoid that water loss but generally rely more heavily on fans and mechanical chillers, which consume electricity. Operators track the two sides with separate yardsticks: water usage effectiveness (litres per unit of computing energy) and power usage effectiveness (total facility energy divided by what the servers use). Improving one often worsens the other.
That is the trade-off the Transparency Alliance flagged. Co-founder Julie Bivins asked how much power the facility will now use and whether it will come from fossil fuels, natural gas or nuclear. Those are fair questions, and they apply symmetrically: Google has not quantified the added energy draw, and the alliance has not quantified it either. Whether the swap is a net environmental gain depends on the local grid’s generation mix and on how water-stressed the region is, and neither side has put those numbers on the table.
The density of the hardware inside also shapes the choice. Air cooling suits lower-density server halls; the most power-hungry equipment, including the accelerators used for AI workloads, increasingly pushes operators toward liquid cooling. Google has not said what the Botetourt buildings will host, but the website’s reference to “business demand and infrastructure requirements” suggests the cooling decision for later buildings will turn on what they are built to run, not only on water.
A Cooling Decision Made in a Drought
The timing is hard to separate from the local climate. On July 15, Gov. Abigail Spanberger announced that the Roanoke Drought Evaluation Region, which includes Roanoke city and Roanoke County next to Botetourt, had reached emergency status, while most of Virginia sat under drought warnings or watches.
Local governance has been strained as well. Botetourt County said on July 3 that its planning commission lacks legal authority to independently convene public hearings, and The Roanoke Times described tense proceedings at the commission’s July 13 meeting, where members voted to recommend that the Board of Supervisors direct them to organize a meeting on water supply.
For developers elsewhere, the lesson is that cooling architecture is no longer purely an engineering decision made late in design. Water commitments negotiated early, and disclosed later through public-records requests, can become the defining public fact about a project. Publishing water and power estimates together, per building and at buildout, is the clearest way to show what a cooling trade-off actually saves.
Background
Google’s planned campus sits at the Botetourt Center at Greenfield, an industrial park in Botetourt County, just north of Roanoke in southwest Virginia. The company has proposed a $3 billion investment across three buildings, part of a broader push of large data center projects beyond Virginia’s established hub in the northern part of the state.
Data centers house the servers behind cloud services, search and AI, and they need continuous cooling. Many large facilities use evaporative systems that consume significant water; others use air-based or closed-loop designs that use less water but more electricity. That choice has become a central point of negotiation between developers and host communities, particularly in areas facing drought.
Michigan lawmakers have proposed a set of rules for data centers, the giant warehouses of computers that run apps, cloud services and artificial intelligence.
The biggest of these buildings can use up to 5 million gallons of water a day, about seven Olympic swimming pools. One bill would limit the water a site can permanently use up to about three pools’ worth a day. Another would require cooling systems that reuse the same water over and over.
Developers would also need a signed deal with the local town before they could build or connect to the power grid.
Michigan Democrats introduced a package of bills in early July 2026 to regulate data centers’ energy use, water use, noise, labor standards and use of nondisclosure agreements, MultiState reported. The centerpiece would require operators to sign legally binding community benefit agreements with local governments before they receive site plan approvals, permits or utility interconnection. An interconnection is the approval to connect a facility to the power grid.
The package contains competing Senate and House versions on energy and water. Senate Bill 1047 would require 20-year utility contracts and 90% clean energy procurement. House Bill 6135 would create a new large-load rate class with 15-year contracts and no clean energy mandate. On water, Senate Bill 1046 would cap consumptive use at 2 million gallons per day. The House is considering a requirement for closed-loop cooling or municipal water only.
Executive Summary
Michigan’s package goes beyond one-off siting fights. It would write conditions on energy, water, labor and local benefits into state law. Most permitting disputes are settled project by project in township meetings. These bills would instead set a statewide floor that every large facility would have to clear. None of the bills has passed, and the Senate and House versions differ in important ways.
The water provisions matter most for how facilities are designed. Large data centers can use up to 5 million gallons a day. The Senate would cap consumptive use at 2 million gallons, and the House would require closed-loop cooling or municipal water. The two chambers take different routes, but both would steer developers toward cooling that evaporates less water. The community benefit agreement requirement would change the order of development. A signed local deal would come before the grid connection, not after it.
Michigan is not alone. Six other states have considered community benefit agreement mandates this year. Twelve have weighed closed-loop cooling requirements, and twelve have weighed decommissioning rules. What stands out in Michigan is how many of these ideas arrive together in a single package.
Two Competing Water Bills, One Direction
Senate Bill 1046 would create a new state permit for anyone using, or expecting to use, 550,000 gallons of water or more per day. Applicants would have to hold at least three public hearings before they apply. Permit holders would face a cap of 2 million gallons per day of consumptive use. Consumptive use means water that leaves the local supply and is not returned, mostly through evaporation in cooling towers. For comparison, large data centers can use up to 5 million gallons a day. At that scale, a design that depends on evaporating large volumes of water would struggle to fit under the cap.
The House approach is blunter. New data centers would have to use closed-loop cooling, which recirculates the same water instead of drawing and discharging fresh supply. The only alternative would be to take water solely from a municipal system. The mechanisms differ: the Senate sets a volume limit, while the House mandates a technology or a water source. The engineering result is similar. Developers planning large campuses in Michigan would be pushed toward low-evaporation cooling, whichever version prevails.
This follows a shift the industry has already started. Operators are actively adopting less water-intensive cooling. The effects spread beyond the building itself. Cooling equipment suppliers would gain a more predictable market. Municipal water utilities could become the default supplier under the House option. Closed-loop and dry cooling generally save water but use more electricity. That puts water policy in direct contact with the energy bills moving alongside it.
The Local Deal Would Come Before the Grid Connection
House Bill 6137 and Senate Bill 1050 would reorder the development process. No local site plan approval, no local permit and no Public Service Commission approval of an interconnection could be issued until the local government approves a community benefit plan. For developers, the negotiation with the host community would move onto the critical path, ahead of the utility process that usually sets project timelines.
The agreements would have to cover at least half of five listed topics, which in practice means three. The topics are local hiring, water use, cost allocation for electrical or water upgrades, community investment funding, and home efficiency improvements. A separate pair of bills, House Bill 6140 and Senate Bill 1049, would bar elected officials and operators from signing nondisclosure agreements about construction when a project receives a tax incentive. Intellectual property could still be redacted. Together, these bills would make the terms of the local negotiation largely public for subsidized projects.
Two Chambers, Two Ways to Price Power
The energy bills share one principle: data centers should pay for their own power, so that other ratepayers do not absorb the cost. Senate Bill 1047 would set firm terms. Contracts would run at least 20 years, customers would be billed for at least 90% of their contracted demand whether they use it or not, and applications would cost $100,000. That billing floor is aimed at the risk of a utility building for a large load that never fully arrives. The Senate bill would also require operators to procure clean energy equal to 90% of their annual usage and to join a demand response program, which pays or credits large users for cutting consumption when the grid is strained.
House Bill 6135 would create a large-load commercial rate class with contracts of at least 15 years. Its financial terms are less strict, and it has no clean energy requirement. On the House side, House Bill 6142 would require every Public Service Commission-approved data center contract to include a decommissioning plan. The plan would need financial assurance, meaning money set aside, sufficient to cover dismantling the facility, and it would be reviewed every three years. Developers comparing states would treat the choice between these two frameworks as a real cost difference, not a technicality.
Labor Standards, and No Moratorium
House Bill 6141 and Senate Bill 1048 would bar the Public Service Commission from approving data center contracts unless construction and maintenance work is done under a labor agreement or collective bargaining agreement. The International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers has urged members to oppose moratorium legislation. The union argues that data centers bring well-paid construction jobs and long-term union employment. That position helps explain the package’s shape: it regulates how data centers are built, not whether they can be built.
The package contains no moratorium and no tax incentive changes. Those questions are being handled in separate Michigan bills. They include proposals to repeal incentives, to exclude data centers from certain property tax exemptions, and to extend a brownfield-zone exemption. The package’s premise is that data centers will keep coming to Michigan and the state should set the terms, which is a middle position between welcoming them unconditionally and blocking them.
Background
Data centers house the servers behind cloud computing, streaming and artificial intelligence. The largest require power on the scale of a small city, and some draw millions of gallons of water a day for cooling. As construction has spread into new regions, state legislatures have moved from offering incentives to setting conditions. States considered hundreds of data center bills last year. This year, six states other than Michigan have weighed community benefit agreement mandates, twelve have weighed closed-loop cooling requirements, and twelve have considered decommissioning rules.
Michigan’s legislature has been active on the issue throughout 2026. Separate bills address data center tax incentives: some would repeal them, one would narrow property tax exemptions, and others would extend a brownfield-zone exemption. The July package is the state’s broadest attempt yet to set operating conditions for the industry. At the federal level, a proposal from Representative Robert Bresnahan would tie federal data center tax credits to community benefit agreements.
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.
MIT News reported on June 9, 2026, that a startup spun out of the university is commercializing a data-center cooling system inspired by the passive heat-removal designs used in nuclear reactors, with the stated goal of making data centers more sustainable by reducing the energy — and, per the editorial framing, the water — that cooling consumes.
The syndicated release available to us carried the headline and framing but few technical or commercial specifics; we analyze the concept on its merits and flag what remains unsubstantiated below.
Executive Summary
The announcement matters because cooling is one of the largest costs — in electricity, in water, and increasingly in permitting friction — of operating a data center. A system that borrows from nuclear engineering’s passive-safety playbook, where heat is removed by natural physical forces rather than powered machinery, is aimed squarely at that cost. In a reactor, passive cooling means hot fluid rises and cooler fluid sinks, circulating heat away without pumps; the appeal for data centers is the same: fewer energy-hungry moving parts between the hot chip and the outside air.
The timing is not accidental. AI training and inference hardware has pushed per-rack power to levels that conventional air cooling struggles to handle, and communities hosting data centers are scrutinizing water withdrawals from evaporative cooling systems. Any credible technology that reduces both the electric and water bills of heat rejection will get a hearing from operators.
What the source material does not yet establish is whether this particular system works at commercial scale: no performance figures, customer deployments, funding details, or timelines were available in the release we reviewed. The physics pedigree is real; the commercial case is, for now, a thesis.
From Reactor Safety to Server Racks
Nuclear plants pioneered passive cooling for a stark reason: a reactor must shed heat even when the power fails. Designs built on natural circulation exploit the fact that heated fluid becomes less dense and rises while cooled fluid sinks, creating a self-sustaining loop that moves heat with no pumps, no fans, and no operator action. Decades of licensing scrutiny have made these principles among the most carefully validated in thermal engineering.
A data center’s problem is gentler — servers fail safely when they overheat, reactors do not — but structurally similar: concentrated heat that must move continuously to the outdoors. Today that journey is powered at nearly every step, by server fans, chilled-water pumps, compressors, and cooling towers. A passive or semi-passive loop that lets buoyancy or phase change do part of that work attacks the electricity bill directly, and if it rejects heat without evaporating water, it attacks the water bill too. The startup’s bet, as framed by MIT News, is that reactor-grade thermal design can be repackaged at data-center price points.
Why Cooling Is the Data Center’s Second Power Bill
For a typical facility, the electricity that does computing is only part of the meter; a meaningful share of total load goes to moving heat, which is why the industry obsesses over power usage effectiveness (PUE) — the ratio of total facility power to IT power. Every point of cooling overhead removed either cuts operating cost or frees grid capacity for more servers, and grid capacity is currently the scarcest input in the AI buildout.
Water is becoming the second constraint. Many large facilities cool cheaply by evaporating water, and withdrawals have become a flashpoint in drought-prone regions, slowing permits and souring community relations. A technology that credibly reduces both energy and water use would not just trim costs — it would widen the map of places a data center can be built. That is the strategic prize behind this announcement, and it explains why a cooling story from a university lab merits industry attention.
A Crowded Race, and a Conservative Customer
The spinout is not entering an empty field. Direct-to-chip liquid cooling is already shipping at scale from established vendors, immersion cooling has committed adopters, and rear-door heat exchangers are a common retrofit. Most of these still depend on pumped loops and mechanical chillers, so a passive approach is differentiated in principle — but it must prove it can handle the extreme heat density of modern AI racks, where natural circulation alone has historically been hardest to apply.
The harder obstacle may be cultural. Data-center operators are deeply conservative buyers: uptime is the product, and unproven thermal systems are among the last things they will gamble on. The path for a startup here almost always runs through small pilot deployments, published performance data, and partnerships with equipment incumbents or colocation providers willing to host a proving ground. None of those milestones is evidenced in the material released so far, which is normal for a lab-to-market story at this stage — but it defines exactly what to watch for next.
Background
Data-center cooling has been through several generations: raised-floor air cooling, hot/cold aisle containment, evaporative economization, and most recently liquid cooling driven by AI accelerators whose heat output overwhelms air. Each generation traded capital cost against energy and water consumption, and the AI era has sharpened that trade-off — power and water availability now routinely determine where facilities can be built at all.
Nuclear engineering, meanwhile, spent decades perfecting passive heat removal for safety reasons, producing some of the most rigorously validated thermal designs in existence. The MIT spinout profiled here sits at the intersection of those two histories, part of a broader wave of university-born startups applying energy-sector engineering to computing infrastructure.
Microsoft’s chief executive said the company’s newest AI data centers consume as little water annually as a typical restaurant, crediting a closed-loop cooling design that recirculates the same fluid indefinitely rather than evaporating fresh water to reject heat. The claim, reported June 3, 2026, positions the design as a step-change from conventional facilities that can draw millions of gallons per year.
Executive Summary
The comparison is striking by design: restaurants are among the most water-intensive small businesses people intuitively understand, and equating a hyperscale AI facility to one reframes the water debate around data centers. The engineering behind the claim is real and well understood — closed-loop (or liquid-to-chip, sealed-circuit) cooling fills the system once and rejects heat to the outside air through dry coolers or chillers, eliminating the continuous evaporation that makes traditional cooling towers thirsty.
Why it matters: water has become a genuine siting constraint for AI infrastructure. Communities from the American Southwest to drought-prone regions abroad have pushed back on data center projects over aquifer draw, and utilities increasingly ask about consumptive water use before power. If Microsoft can credibly demonstrate restaurant-scale water budgets at gigawatt-scale campuses, it changes the permitting conversation for the whole industry.
The caveat: the claim as reported applies to new facilities built to the closed-loop design, not Microsoft’s existing fleet, and the reported remarks do not specify how many sites qualify, how the restaurant benchmark is defined, or whether the figure counts the water embedded in the extra electricity that dry heat rejection typically requires.
The Engineering Is Credible — the Accounting Is the Question
Closed-loop cooling is not a moonshot; it is a design choice with known trade-offs. In a conventional data center, cooling towers chill water by evaporating a portion of it — that evaporation is the “consumption” that shows up in the millions-of-gallons figures. A sealed circuit avoids this entirely: coolant is filled at commissioning, circulates across cold plates or heat exchangers at the servers, and dumps heat to ambient air. On-site water use then falls to domestic needs — restrooms, humidification, kitchens — which is plausibly restaurant-scale.
The honest question is boundary-drawing. Site water use is only one ledger. Dry heat rejection generally consumes more electricity than evaporative cooling, especially in hot climates, and most grid electricity has its own water footprint at the power plant. A facility that saves water on site but draws more thermally generated power may shift consumption upstream rather than eliminate it. The reported remarks, as relayed, do not say whether Microsoft’s restaurant comparison is site-only or includes that indirect water. Neither answer would be wrong — but they are very different claims.
Water Is Becoming the Second Currency of AI Siting
For years, the binding constraint on data center development was power: megawatts available, interconnection queue position, substation timelines. Water has quietly become the second gate. Local opposition to AI campuses increasingly centers on aquifer and municipal-supply impacts, and several jurisdictions now require consumptive-use disclosures in permitting. A hyperscaler that can walk into a county hearing with a restaurant-equivalent water budget has a materially easier approval path — and that is worth real money in schedule terms, since permitting delay is often costlier than construction premium.
This creates competitive dynamics beyond Microsoft. If closed-loop designs become the de facto community expectation, operators running evaporative plants may face pressure to retrofit or to defend designs that were unremarkable five years ago. Cooling vendors, dry-cooler manufacturers, and liquid-cooling integrators stand to gain; regions that marketed abundant water as a siting advantage lose a differentiator.
Marketing Benchmarks Deserve the Same Scrutiny as Critics’ Numbers
The water debate around AI has featured loose numbers on all sides — viral estimates of water “per chatbot query” have often rested on contested assumptions, and industry rebuttals have sometimes cherry-picked their best sites. A restaurant comparison is vivid but imprecise: restaurant water use varies enormously by size and type, and the reported claim does not state which benchmark Microsoft used. The fair posture is symmetrical skepticism. Critics’ worst-case figures should be tested against actual metered data; Microsoft’s best-case figure should be tested against fleet-wide averages, third-party verification, and the full indirect footprint. Until per-site water data is published, both the alarm and the reassurance rest partly on trust.
Background
Microsoft is one of the largest builders of AI infrastructure in the world, expanding data center capacity at historic pace to serve AI training and cloud workloads. The company has long publicized environmental commitments — including goals around water stewardship — and in recent years began promoting data center designs that minimize or eliminate evaporative water use, as rising rack densities pushed the industry from air cooling toward liquid cooling.
The water question grew alongside the AI boom: as hyperscale campuses multiplied in water-stressed regions, consumptive use became a flashpoint in local permitting battles and media coverage. The June 2026 remarks land in that context — an industry seeking to prove that AI growth and water stewardship are compatible, before regulators decide the question for it.
Utah’s governor has tightened the rules that apply to a giant AI data center project backed by investor Kevin O’Leary, according to a Business Insider report published May 30, 2026. The action places state-level conditions on one of the highest-profile celebrity-backed entries into the AI infrastructure race.
Details of the specific requirements were not spelled out in the available source material, but the reported move fits a broader pattern: states courting AI data center investment are simultaneously attaching guardrails around the resources those campuses consume — chiefly water and electric power.
Executive Summary
According to Business Insider, Utah’s governor moved to tighten the rules governing Kevin O’Leary’s planned large-scale AI data center in the state. O’Leary, the investor best known from Shark Tank, has spent the past two years positioning O’Leary Ventures as a developer of very large AI computing campuses, most prominently the multibillion-dollar ‘Wonder Valley’ concept announced in Alberta, Canada, in late 2024. A Utah project extends that ambition into one of the fastest-growing — and driest — states in the American West.
Why it matters: AI data centers are among the most resource-intensive facilities ever built at commercial scale. A single hyperscale campus can demand hundreds of megawatts of electricity — comparable to a small city — and, depending on cooling design, substantial water. Utah is an arid state where water politics are already charged, notably around the shrinking Great Salt Lake. When a governor personally intervenes to condition a marquee project, it tells the industry that resource guardrails are moving from county zoning boards up to the statehouse.
For developers, the message is that incentives and permits increasingly come bundled with obligations. For AI tenants and investors, it means project timelines and economics now carry a regulatory variable that did not meaningfully exist three years ago.
Guardrails Are Becoming the Price of Admission
Through 2023 and 2024, states competed for data centers almost purely with carrots: tax abatements, fast-track permitting, cheap land. The reported Utah action reflects the next phase. Legislatures and governors in Georgia, Virginia, Texas, and elsewhere have begun asking who pays for the grid upgrades a gigawatt-class campus requires, and whether existing ratepayers end up subsidizing a private tenant’s load. Utah itself passed legislation in 2024 creating a framework for ‘large load’ customers to be served under separate terms, precisely so that massive new consumers do not shift costs onto households. Tightening rules on a flagship AI project is consistent with that trajectory: welcome the investment, but ring-fence its externalities.
For laypeople, the key concept is that electricity and water are shared systems. A data center does not simply buy power the way a household does; at hundreds of megawatts it reshapes the utility’s entire planning horizon — what plants get built, what transmission lines get strung, and who bears the cost if the promised load never materializes.
Water Is the West’s Hard Constraint
Power can, eventually, be built. Water in the Great Basin largely cannot. Utah is one of the driest states in the country, and the decline of the Great Salt Lake has made every large new water commitment politically visible. Data centers vary enormously here: evaporative cooling designs can consume millions of gallons a day, while closed-loop and air-cooled designs use a small fraction of that — at the cost of higher electricity draw. Any state-imposed water condition effectively forces a design decision, pushing developers toward dry cooling and shifting the burden back onto the power system. That trade-off — water versus watts — is now a central engineering and political negotiation in every arid-state siting, and Utah’s reported action puts it on the record at the gubernatorial level.
The Celebrity-Capital Model Meets Institutional Reality
Kevin O’Leary’s data center ventures have been announced with characteristic showmanship — Wonder Valley in Alberta was unveiled with a headline figure of roughly $70 billion over its life. Announcements at that scale invite fair scrutiny: mega-campuses require anchor tenants, firm power agreements, water rights, transmission interconnection, and tens of billions in project finance, most of which is rarely secured at announcement time. A governor tightening the rules is, in one reading, simply the institutional system doing its job — converting a promotional vision into enforceable commitments. That is not necessarily adversarial. Projects that survive rigorous conditioning tend to be more bankable, because lenders and hyperscale tenants prefer sites where the regulatory ground has already been tested.
Winners, Losers, and the Signal to the Market
If the guardrails are well designed, the winners are Utah ratepayers, competing water users, and — perhaps counterintuitively — disciplined developers, who gain a clearer rulebook than rivals face in states still improvising. The risk side: conditions that are vague or shifting can chill investment, and Utah competes with Texas, Wyoming, and the Midwest for AI capital. AI tenants watching this will price in regulatory friction when choosing between states. The market signal is unmistakable either way: the era of announcing a gigawatt campus first and settling the resource questions later is closing.
Background
The AI boom that followed ChatGPT’s 2022 debut triggered a global race to build computing campuses of unprecedented scale, drawing in hyperscalers, private equity, sovereign funds — and celebrity investors. Kevin O’Leary entered the field through O’Leary Ventures, announcing the ‘Wonder Valley’ mega-campus in Alberta in December 2024 with a stated long-term vision of roughly $70 billion, and subsequently pursuing sites in the United States, including Utah.
Utah, meanwhile, has courted technology infrastructure — Meta and others operate large facilities there — while wrestling with the American West’s defining constraint: water. In 2024 the state established a legal framework for serving very large new electricity loads without shifting costs to ordinary ratepayers. The reported tightening of rules on the O’Leary project sits at the intersection of those two currents: aggressive AI-infrastructure recruitment and hardening resource guardrails.
Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro launched new GRID standards for data center accountability on May 26, 2026, as first reported by Harrisburg-area broadcaster FOX43. Based on the initial announcement coverage, the standards are aimed at how data centers affect three things residents feel directly: electric power demand, water consumption, and the utility bills paid by ordinary ratepayers.
Executive Summary
The Shapiro administration’s GRID standards position Pennsylvania as one of the first states to put a governor’s name on a formal accountability framework for data centers — the large, power-hungry facilities that house cloud computing and artificial intelligence workloads. Rather than leaving oversight entirely to utility-by-utility negotiations or federal regulators, the announcement signals that the state itself intends to set expectations for how these projects account for their draw on the grid, their water use for cooling, and the costs they may shift onto other electricity customers.
The timing matters. Pennsylvania sits inside PJM Interconnection, the largest wholesale electricity market in the United States, where capacity prices — the payments that keep power plants available — have risen sharply in recent auctions, driven in part by surging projected demand from data centers. Shapiro has already fought one public battle with PJM over those costs. The GRID standards extend that posture from the wholesale market to the facilities themselves. The initial coverage, however, is light on specifics: the announcement’s legal mechanics, thresholds, and enforcement provisions are not detailed in the source, and we flag those open questions below.
Why Pennsylvania, and Why Now
Pennsylvania is a natural early mover. It is one of the nation’s largest electricity producers and a net exporter of power, it has abundant natural gas, and it has been courting exactly the kind of large data center investment this framework addresses — including high-profile campus projects announced across the commonwealth over the past two years. At the same time, households in PJM territory have watched bills climb as capacity auction prices surged, and data center demand growth is one of the most frequently cited drivers. A governor who wants both the investment and re-electable utility bills has a strong incentive to formalize the rules of the road.
Shapiro also has a track record here. His administration publicly challenged PJM over capacity auction costs, a dispute that ended with the grid operator agreeing to limit price outcomes in subsequent auctions. The GRID standards read as the demand-side complement to that supply-side fight: having pressed the market operator on prices, the state is now pressing the largest new source of demand on accountability.
What “Accountability” Could Mean in Practice
The announcement’s three named concerns — power, water, and ratepayer impact — map onto the three live policy debates around hyperscale computing. On power, the core issue is interconnection: when a facility requests hundreds of megawatts, who pays for the substations and transmission upgrades it triggers? On water, evaporative cooling systems can consume significant volumes, and disclosure of consumption is inconsistent across the industry. On ratepayer impact, the emerging tool nationally is the “large-load tariff” — a special rate class requiring very large customers to make long-term financial commitments so that, if a project shrinks or cancels, the stranded infrastructure costs don’t land on households.
Which of these mechanisms Pennsylvania’s GRID standards actually employ is not specified in the initial coverage. The announcement could range from a binding framework with real teeth to a set of voluntary expectations and reporting norms. That distinction — mandatory versus aspirational — is the single most important thing to watch as details emerge, because it determines whether the standards change project economics or primarily change the political conversation.
Guardrails as a Competitive Strategy
The conventional worry is that regulation deters investment, and data center developers do compare states on speed and cost. But there is a credible counter-argument: clear, uniform standards can actually attract capital by replacing unpredictable, project-by-project fights — zoning battles, rate cases, water permit disputes — with a known checklist. Developers price uncertainty; a state that tells them upfront what accountability looks like may be easier to build in than one where every project becomes a referendum.
The likely winners under a well-designed framework are utilities (clearer cost-allocation rules), communities (visibility into water and grid impacts), and large, well-capitalized operators who can meet the standards easily. The parties squeezed would be speculative projects — interconnection requests filed to reserve grid capacity without firm plans — which inflate demand forecasts and, indirectly, everyone’s bills. If the GRID standards help separate real projects from paper ones, that alone would be a meaningful service to the market.
An Early Entry in a Coming Wave of State Rules
Pennsylvania is not acting in a vacuum. Utility regulators in other states have been moving in the same direction through rate cases — approving special terms for very large customers so that data center growth pays its own way. What distinguishes this announcement is that it comes packaged as a governor-led, state-level framework rather than a utility-specific tariff proceeding, which gives it broader scope and higher political visibility.
That makes it a template other governors will study. If Pennsylvania can pair accountability standards with continued project announcements, it strengthens the case that guardrails and growth are compatible. If investment visibly slows, critics will attribute it to the standards — fairly or not. Either way, the experiment will generate the evidence the rest of the country currently lacks, and the industry should engage with it on that basis rather than treating any state framework as inherently hostile.
Background
Pennsylvania is one of the largest electricity-producing states in the country and a longtime net exporter of power, with deep natural gas resources and a legacy nuclear fleet. That energy abundance, together with available land and fiber routes between East Coast metros, has made it a serious contender for hyperscale data center campuses as the artificial intelligence buildout accelerated through 2024–2026, including multibillion-dollar projects announced across the commonwealth.
The same period strained the region’s electricity economics. Capacity prices in PJM Interconnection — the wholesale market serving Pennsylvania and much of the eastern U.S. — rose sharply in successive auctions as demand forecasts swelled, and Governor Shapiro emerged as one of the most vocal state-level critics of those outcomes, pressing PJM to limit costs borne by consumers. The GRID standards announced May 26, 2026 are the next step in that arc: moving from contesting wholesale market prices to setting state-level expectations for the facilities driving demand.
A farm county in southeast Nebraska has put new data centers on hold for up to a year. Data centers are the huge warehouse-like buildings full of computers that run artificial intelligence.
Residents were alarmed by reports of a Google plan for a Nebraska facility that could use more than three times the electricity of the entire city of Lincoln on a hot summer day. They asked about water, power bills and heat.
A new state law now gives counties a deadline to rule on some projects. Counties without rules may pause first and write rules later.
The Otoe County Board of Commissioners in southeast Nebraska voted on Tuesday, May 19, to suspend the permits needed for a new data center for up to a year, Nebraska Public Media reported, carrying reporting by the Flatwater Free Press. Commissioner Chuck Cole said the pause is meant to give county officials time to study the issue and update county regulations.
The vote followed local concern about a Google proposal for a large Nebraska data center. According to documents shared at a private utility meeting in January, that facility could require more than triple the electricity the city of Lincoln uses during its hottest months. The proposal did not name a site. The Omaha-based energy developer Tenaska, described as a potential partner, has optioned large tracts of land in southeast Nebraska, including in Otoe and Gage counties. Gage County’s planning and zoning commission is scheduled to hold a hearing on its own moratorium in June.
Executive Summary
Otoe County has not rejected data centers. It has stopped issuing the permits for one while it writes rules it does not yet have. That distinction matters to anyone planning large AI facilities in rural America. The practical obstacle in Otoe is not a lack of electricity or land. It is the absence of a local rulebook that can answer residents’ questions about water, power costs and heat before a project arrives.
Two new Nebraska laws raise the stakes. One allows private power plants built to serve a single large industrial customer to connect to the grid. That law is widely seen as aimed at data centers and was backed by Tenaska’s CEO at a legislative hearing. The other law requires counties to rule on some projects within a fixed period. Jon Cannon of the Nebraska Association of County Officials said that deadline may prompt counties to adopt moratoriums first so they are not forced to rule without regulations in place.
Otoe is one of several signals. Madison County now requires a special permit for data centers, Gage County is weighing a pause, and, according to the report, at least 14 states have considered statewide moratoriums this year.
A Pause to Write Rules, Not a Permanent No
A moratorium is a temporary halt on a category of approvals. Otoe’s suspends data center permits for up to a year. The board framed it as time to study the issue and update its regulations, not as a verdict on the industry. Wynee Benedict, one of the residents who pushed for it, described the goal in regulatory terms: “We needed regulations on the books prior to a data center coming to this county. We don’t want to have to play catch up and regulate something that’s already here.”
Residents did not all agree. Jim Nemec supported time to study the issue but warned about the signal it sends: “Are we sending out the impression that business is closed here?” That is a fair concern. A county that pauses without a clear end date, or that uses the year to write rules nobody can meet, risks becoming a place developers skip. A county that uses the year to publish clear standards on water, noise, setbacks and power costs may become an easier place to build than one with no rules at all. Setbacks are required distances from homes or roads. The ordinance the county drafts will matter more than the vote itself.
Why AI Siting Now Runs Through the County Board
This is the core of the story. The scale being discussed in southeast Nebraska is large. The Google proposal could require more than triple Lincoln’s summer electricity use, and the organizers in Gage County said they understood it would include a private natural gas plant. At that size, a project needs the grid connection, the generation, the land and the local land-use permit. The state has now eased the power question by allowing private generation dedicated to a large customer. Tenaska has reportedly secured land options, which are contracts giving it the right to buy or lease land later. The piece still in doubt is the county permit, and in Otoe that piece is now frozen for up to a year.
The state’s new decision-deadline law pushes counties in the same direction. It was intended to stop counties from stalling projects indefinitely. But a county with no data center rules that faces a firm deadline to decide on an application has two choices: rule without standards, or pause until it has them. Cannon expects many to pause, and not only for data centers. For developers this matters a great deal. A law designed to shorten approvals could lengthen them in counties that are not ready, and in the short term the counties that are not ready are most of the rural counties where land and gas access make these projects attractive.
This should not be overstated. One county’s vote is not a statewide trend, and Cannon himself said attitudes will vary from county to county, as they have for wind and solar. But Otoe, Madison and Gage have all acted or scheduled action within weeks of each other, and all three are responding to the same prospect. That points to county zoning as the next checkpoint for rural AI campuses, alongside power and fiber.
Power Was Handled in Lincoln; Water Was Left to the Counties
Nebraska’s legislature and Gov. Jim Pillen addressed the energy question directly. The private-generation law is meant to keep large new loads from burdening existing ratepayers. Virginia shows what happens when this goes unaddressed. Joe Lerch of the Virginia Association of Counties said the state’s main utility has had to postpone connecting some new data centers for lack of power and transmission capacity.
Water got no equivalent state-level answer, and in Otoe and Gage it is the concern residents raise first. Gage County organizer Anna Wolken said the top issue would be water, because both a gas plant and a data center can draw on it. Gas plants use water for cooling, and many data centers use water to carry heat away from their servers. How much depends heavily on the cooling design. Air-based and closed-loop systems use far less than evaporative ones. Nobody involved has said publicly which approach the proposed facility would use.
A separate transparency law will require data centers to report their owners, size, location, annual electricity demand, water use and tax incentives each year. That gives county officials comparable data for future decisions. It does not help a county decide on a first project before any such reports exist, which is exactly Otoe’s situation.
What Developers Can Take From Otoe
Cannon’s advice to developers was practical: tell residents early. He described what happens when neighbors learn about a project from each other, through someone who “just signed this big contract for a right of way.” In Otoe and Gage, residents appear to have learned of the potential project through press reporting on a private utility meeting and through land options. It was not an announcement from the companies. A community that pieces a project together from secondhand reports tends to fill the gaps with worst-case assumptions.
The lesson for anyone siting AI capacity in rural areas is that the time-consuming work may be local rather than technical. That means disclosing water and cooling plans, explaining who pays for power, and engaging before the zoning agenda is set. Developers who bring those answers to a county writing its first ordinance have a chance to help set the terms. Developers who arrive afterward will be working within rules written without their input.
Background
Otoe County sits in southeast Nebraska. Its county seat is Nebraska City, south of Omaha and east of Lincoln. Like many rural counties, it has previously dealt with controversial large developments such as wind and solar farms. Its land-use rules were not written with hyperscale data centers in mind. Hyperscale refers to the very large facilities built by major cloud and AI companies.
Demand for AI computing has driven a nationwide search for sites with available land, power and water. Established hubs such as Northern Virginia have run into grid limits. Nebraska responded in 2026 with a law allowing dedicated private power generation for large customers and a separate law requiring annual public reporting on data center energy and water use.
