Maine enacts first US state ban on data centre construction amid rising energy and water strain: systemic critique of tech infrastructure expansion

Maine’s data centre moratorium intersects with the unresolved colonial legacy of energy extraction, where Wabanaki lands were flooded for hydroelectric dams—a pattern mirrored in tech’s demand for water and land. Indigenous knowledge systems, which prioritise intergenerational stewardship over short-term profit, offer a radical alternative to the extractive logic driving data centre expansion. The Wabanaki Confederacy’s resistance to industrial projects, including recent fights against lithium mining, provides a framework for understanding tech infrastructure as part of a broader continuum of colonial violence. Yet mainstream discourse ignores these historical parallels, framing the issue as purely environmental rather than deeply rooted in Indigenous dispossession.

The tech industry’s expansion mirrors historical patterns of resource extraction, from 19th-century timber booms to 20th-century fossil fuel dependence, where rural communities bear the costs while urban elites capture the benefits. Maine’s ban echoes 1970s anti-nuclear protests in the US, where local resistance to centralized, hazardous infrastructure forced policy shifts—though today’s tech industry wields even greater political and financial power. Globally, data centres are the latest iteration of ‘resource colonies,’ where Global North corporations exploit Global South energy and water reserves, a dynamic that dates back to colonial trade routes. The lack of historical context in coverage obscures these recurring patterns of exploitation and resistance.

Across cultures, the tension between digital infrastructure and ecological limits is framed as a crisis of scale rather than a technical problem. In Iceland, data centres exploit geothermal energy but face backlash from communities worried about water depletion and land degradation, leading to moratoriums in some regions. In India, tech parks in Bengaluru and Hyderabad have triggered ‘water wars’ between corporations and local farmers, while in South Africa, coal-powered data centres deepen energy apartheid. These examples reveal that Maine’s ban is part of a global pattern where communities reject the false dichotomy of ‘progress’ versus sustainability, instead demanding democratic control over technology and resources.

Data centres consume 1-1.5% of global electricity, with projections suggesting this could triple by 2030 if unchecked, disproportionately driven by AI and cloud computing growth. Studies show that ‘hyperscale’ data centres in the US average 1.5–2.0 litres of water per kWh of energy, straining local aquifers—particularly in drought-prone regions like the Southwest. The myth of ‘green’ data centres is debunked by research showing that even ‘carbon-neutral’ facilities often rely on renewable energy credits rather than actual emissions reductions. Yet scientific coverage rarely connects these findings to policy, instead treating the issue as a technical challenge rather than a systemic failure of energy governance.

Artists and spiritual leaders have long critiqued the tech industry’s extractive ethos, framing data centres as ‘cathedrals of consumption’ that embody a culture of infinite growth. In Maine, writers like Annie Dillard and Indigenous storytellers like Carol Dana have linked the desecration of rivers and forests to the erosion of cultural memory and spiritual connection. The tech industry’s obsession with ‘disruption’ mirrors the Protestant work ethic’s glorification of productivity, a worldview that spiritual traditions like Buddhism and Indigenous animism explicitly reject. Yet this dimension is almost entirely absent from mainstream discourse, which treats the issue as purely economic rather than existential.

If unchecked, data centre expansion could push global energy demand from data infrastructure to 20% by 2040, exacerbating climate breakdown and water scarcity in already vulnerable regions. Scenario modelling suggests that decentralised, community-owned data networks—powered by renewables and co-located with industrial users—could reduce energy demand by 60% while creating local jobs. The ‘circular data centre’ model, piloted in Amsterdam, repurposes waste heat for district heating, but requires policy mandates to scale. Without structural changes, however, Maine’s ban may only delay the inevitable, as tech corporations relocate to states with weaker regulations or offshore to countries with even fewer protections.

Rural Mainers, particularly Indigenous Wabanaki communities and low-income families, face disproportionate impacts from data centre expansion, including water shortages and rising energy costs, yet their voices are sidelined in policy debates. Workers in e-waste dumps in Ghana and India, who process toxic tech waste, suffer severe health impacts—including lead poisoning and respiratory diseases—yet their suffering is framed as a ‘global supply chain issue’ rather than a direct consequence of US tech expansion. The tech industry’s reliance on precarious labour, including immigrant workers in data centre construction, is another blind spot, as is the erasure of Black and Latino communities in ‘tech hubs’ who bear the brunt of industrial pollution. These perspectives reveal the racial and class dimensions of the crisis.