America's Data-Center Revolt Goes Local - And Bipartisan - As Towns Slam The Brakes

The catch: the moratorium, once drafted and passed, wouldn't touch projects already in the pipeline. And there's a big one. DCIP Group is pushing a gas-powered hyperscale complex that a second rezoning application would expand past 800 acres - with longer-term maps reportedly sketching as many as 1,300 acres and more than a dozen facilities. The county had been fast-tracking it under a "Rapid Response" economic-development pilot; records obtained by Suncoast Searchlight show officials moving to prioritize the application.

Pressed on specifics, the developer couldn't supply them. Asked how much water the complex would draw, DCIP's CEO allowed it could be anywhere from zero to 3 million gallons a day - a range wide enough to drive a turbine through. The company points to "closed-loop" cooling and reclaimed water as mitigations (claims, not yet verified by the county). Commissioners bristled at the suggestion they'd been captured, with one insisting they were "not a bunch of bought and paid for puppets."

Central Florida's Lake County went a step further - a preemptive pause. By the county's own account it has no data centers and no pending applications, yet commissioners reached consensus on June 23 to have staff draft a moratorium, with a vote set for July 14 that Commissioner Anthony Sabatini expects to pass unanimously. He says he isn't seeking "an outright ban" because Florida's SB 180 - signed by Gov. DeSantis after the 2025 session and sold as hurricane-rebuild relief - has been read to bar local governments from tightening development rules at all, and to hand developers a tool to sue counties that reject rezonings. The law sunsets October 1, 2027, so a moratorium is the workaround until it does. Sabatini said 12 applications for "large data centers" have been filed statewide in the past year, and pointed to Citrus, Nassau and Pasco counties as having already imposed some form of pause.

The contrast is right next door. In neighboring Orange County, CoreSite - a subsidiary of publicly traded American Tower (AMT) - has filed plans for a second data-center building at its Orlando campus, adding roughly 76,000 square feet to an existing 129,000-plus-square-foot facility. The moratorium map and the buildout map are being drawn at the same time.

Pennsylvania: from coal country to the statehouse

In Brookville, a borough in western Jefferson County, PA, council members unanimously passed a 180-day moratorium last week, giving themselves until roughly December to write rules. The trigger was water. Council vice-president Randy Bartley said the borough was unofficially told that two data centers were eyeing the area, together capable of drawing about 2.4 million gallons a day from Brookville's supply - a massive amount for such a small borough. Bartley says their job is to "be sure when they turn on the tap, they have water."

Days earlier, the Pennsylvania House moved a package of data-center bills, including a 197-5 vote to repeal a sales-tax exemption on data-center equipment - a break projected to cost the commonwealth roughly $517 million a year by 2030 - and a 201-1 vote codifying Gov. Shapiro's certification-based "GRID Standards." Those standards only bind developers who want state tax perks, covering water use, noise and air pollution, and local energy affordability. The quiet part, said out loud by a bill sponsor: the breaks were flowing to companies clearing nine figures of net income a year.

Missouri: protests, secrecy, and a definition nobody wrote down

In Springfield, Missouri, some 60 residents rallied outside Plaza Towers on Tuesday ahead of a special City Council vote, set for this coming Monday, on a 120-day moratorium. Inside the building, a business panel on data centers featured Trent Overhue - Plaza Towers' owner and the developer of a contested small-scale data center going up near Marshfield - while the protest against projects like his played out on the sidewalk.

Then there's the secrecy... In nearby Webster County, residents say a developer quietly broke ground on a small AI data center in Marshfield before any public process - there's no county planning and zoning commission - and the county has since retained outside counsel to figure out its options. One Marshfield resident's summary: "no meetings, no transparency at all." Second, Springfield's city manager admits the city code contains no definition of "data center" at all - which is how a developer's pitch for a mixed-use building on South National Avenue, with a basement use the city gingerly calls "like a cousin to a data center," is becoming a fight. The 120 days would buy the city time to define the term and study impacts on water, wastewater and the grid.

The local anxiety is, again, about who pays. One self-described tenant leader warned that utility costs would climb for working-class residents if a data center lands - the same ratepayer-socialization fear driving the Pennsylvania votes. For scale, residents need only look up the road to the 2-million-square-foot "AI factory" rising in Independence. Meanwhile, the state is trying to get a grip on the situation: a Missouri House committee has set a September hearing on data-center rules, even as one lawmaker presses the governor for a special session that leadership has so far waved off.

Remember folks, AI-capex bulls assume that land, water, and power show up on schedule - and hyperscalers will have a hard time lobbying their way out of these local entanglements. The political economy is the story: the compute is centralized and the profits accrue to AMZN, MSFT, GOOGL and META (and, via CoreSite, to AMT), but the water draw, the grid strain, and the rate increases land on residents who increasingly get a vote before the concrete is poured. The Florida SB 180 angle adds a delicious contradiction - a "property rights" statute now functioning as a developer's shield against local democracy.