The price of entering that future may be paid by communities already struggling to hold onto land, water and livelihoods.
In the coastal villages of Andhra Pradesh, ancient farmland is being converted into the infrastructure of artificial intelligence, as Google prepares to build India's first major AI data centre hub across more than 600 acres near Visakhapatnam. The state government, anxious to remain competitive in a world where generative AI threatens its outsourcing economy, has offered $2.3 billion in subsidies over two decades — a bargain struck while local farmers lose generational land and a water-stressed city braces for demands it may not be able to meet. This is the recurring shape of technological progress: the costs settle quietly onto those least positioned to bear them, while the benefits travel elsewhere.
- A region already classified as facing extreme water stress is being asked to host servers that will consume electricity equivalent to six million people's annual usage — the arithmetic of sacrifice made visible.
- Farming families who have cultivated mango and cashew fields for generations are being displaced with compensation they describe as inadequate, trading ancestral livelihoods for a future they were never consulted about.
- India's government is caught between two fears — the slow erosion of its outsourcing industry to AI, and the faster erosion of public trust as communities protest the human cost of chasing technological relevance.
- Across Southeast Asia and the developing world, the same pattern is accelerating: Malaysia, Indonesia, Kenya, and the Philippines are all seeing protests erupt as data-centre expansion strains water, power, and local infrastructure.
- The subsidies flowing from already-stretched governments to some of the world's wealthiest technology companies raise a question no investment brochure answers — who is actually developing whom?
In the villages surrounding Visakhapatnam, farmers who have grown mangoes and cashews on coastal Andhra Pradesh land for generations are watching those fields be cleared for something most of them have never encountered: AI data centres built to serve users thousands of miles away. Google and its partners are constructing what will become India's first major AI-focused data centre hub operated by a US technology company, potentially spanning more than 600 acres across three sites.
The scale of the project collides directly with the region's realities. Visakhapatnam already faces extreme water stress — some neighbourhoods receive tap water for less than an hour a day — yet a data centre of this magnitude will require enormous cooling resources. At full capacity, the project could consume electricity equivalent to what six million Indians use annually.
To secure the deal, Andhra Pradesh has offered Google a package of discounts, waivers, and reimbursements that could total $2.3 billion over twenty years. The government's logic is defensive: India's technology outsourcing industry, which employs millions, is threatened by the very AI tools these data centres will power. Attracting the infrastructure feels like a way to remain relevant rather than simply be consumed by the transition.
For displaced farming families, the calculus looks different. Government compensation of up to four million rupees per acre — around $42,000 — and smaller replacement plots elsewhere feel like a poor exchange for land that sustained generations. Their concerns are not abstract: smaller plots, severed community ties, and children with no connection to the work their families have always known.
Visakhapatnam is not an isolated case. From Malaysia and Indonesia to Kenya and the Philippines, protests are erupting as developing nations race to attract data centre investment, offering billions in subsidies while local water supplies, power grids, and infrastructure buckle under the pressure. The deeper irony is plain: artificial intelligence is sold as the technology of progress and efficiency, yet in the places now hosting its physical foundations, many residents fear they are being asked to pay the highest price for the least share of the future being built on their land.
In the villages around Visakhapatnam, the land is changing hands in ways that no one quite expected. For generations, farmers grew mangoes and cashews on the coastal fields of Andhra Pradesh—crops that fed families and sustained a way of life. Now those same fields are being cleared for something the locals barely understand: massive data centres designed to power artificial intelligence systems used by people thousands of miles away.
Google and its partners are building what will become India's first major AI-focused data-centre hub operated by a US technology company. The scale is difficult to grasp. State planning documents show the project could eventually sprawl across more than 600 acres split among three separate sites—roughly equivalent to 454 football fields of concrete, servers, and cooling systems. The transformation is happening fast, driven by India's determination not to fall behind in the global race to control AI infrastructure.
But beneath the promises of investment and technological progress, a different story is emerging. Visakhapatnam already faces what the World Resources Institute classifies as "extremely high" water stress. In some neighbourhoods, residents get tap water for less than an hour each day. A data centre of this scale will demand enormous quantities of water to cool its servers—water that the region simply does not have in abundance. If the project reaches full capacity, it could consume electricity equivalent to what six million Indians use in a year. For a city struggling to provide basic utilities to its own people, the math does not add up.
The Andhra Pradesh government has bent over backwards to make the deal happen. Google is receiving a 25 per cent discount on water costs for a decade, the same discount on land prices, reimbursements for electricity infrastructure, state tax waivers, and reduced power rates. Over two decades, these subsidies could total roughly $2.3 billion—money the state is essentially paying to attract a single company. The government views this as necessary. India's technology outsourcing industry, which employs millions, is under threat from generative AI tools that could replace portions of the work India exports. Attracting AI infrastructure feels like a way to stay relevant, to prove that India is not just a place where other countries' tech work gets done, but a place where the future is being built.
The farmers and residents being displaced see it differently. While the government technically owns portions of the land, families who have cultivated it for decades say they are being forced out with inadequate compensation. The government is offering up to four million rupees—roughly $42,000—per acre, with some families receiving smaller replacement plots elsewhere. For people whose entire identity and economic survival are tied to farming, the money feels like a poor trade. They worry the compensation will eventually run out. They worry that smaller replacement plots cannot sustain agriculture the way their ancestral land did. They worry about a future where their children have no connection to the work their parents and grandparents performed.
Visakhapatnam is not alone. Across the developing world, governments are aggressively courting Google, Amazon, Microsoft, and other tech giants as global demand for AI infrastructure explodes. Malaysia, Thailand, Kenya, and the Philippines are all witnessing some of the world's fastest expansions in data-centre capacity, with industry analysts predicting annual growth rates of 20 to 40 per cent through 2030. India's own data-centre capacity is forecast to increase fivefold over the next five years. The money being offered is staggering—billions of dollars in subsidies flowing from governments that are already stretched thin, trying to fund schools and hospitals and basic infrastructure.
Public backlash has begun. Demonstrations have erupted in Johor Bahru in Malaysia and Batam in Indonesia, both emerging as alternatives after Singapore tightened rules on new data-centre construction. Protesters are raising the same concerns: water reserves under pressure, electricity supplies strained, local infrastructure buckling under the weight. These are anxieties that have played out in wealthier countries for years, but now they are spreading to places where the infrastructure is already weaker and the resources more limited.
The irony cuts deep. Artificial intelligence is marketed as the technology of the future—efficient, innovative, a path to economic growth. Yet in Visakhapatnam and across the developing world, many residents fear that the price of entry into that future will be paid by communities already struggling to hold onto the land, water, and livelihoods that sustain them. The question hanging over these projects is whether developing nations are being asked to sacrifice too much for the privilege of staying relevant in a race they did not start.
Citações Notáveis
In some neighbourhoods of Visakhapatnam, residents receive tap water for less than an hour a day.— Local reporting on water scarcity in the region
Rights groups have questioned whether Visakhapatnam can realistically support large-scale AI infrastructure while already battling water shortages.— Critics cited in Wall Street Journal reporting
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does a data centre in India matter so much to Google and other tech companies right now?
Because AI systems are extraordinarily hungry for computing power and electricity. The companies need massive facilities to train and run these models, and they're looking everywhere for cheap land, cheap power, and governments willing to subsidize the cost. India has all three—plus a huge market of potential users.
But why would a government offer $2.3 billion in subsidies for a single project? That seems reckless.
It's not reckless to them—it's survival. India's entire tech industry is built on exporting software services and outsourcing work. Generative AI threatens that. If India doesn't become a place where AI infrastructure is built, not just where it's serviced, the country risks losing billions in economic value. The subsidies feel like insurance.
The farmers being displaced—what are they actually losing?
Not just income. Land in these regions has been in families for generations. It's identity, it's security, it's the thing you pass to your children. Four million rupees sounds like money until you realize it's supposed to replace a lifetime of cultivation and a future you can't predict.
Is there any chance this works out well for Visakhapatnam?
Theoretically, yes. If the project creates jobs, if the electricity infrastructure improves, if the water situation gets solved. But the track record in other countries suggests those benefits flow to the company and the government, not to the communities that lose land and water access.
So this is happening everywhere?
It's starting to. Malaysia, Indonesia, the Philippines—all racing to build data centres, all offering massive incentives, all facing the same protests about water and electricity and displacement. It's a global pattern, and developing countries are competing against each other to offer the best deal, which means the worst deal for their own people.
What happens next?
That's the question. Either the resistance grows loud enough to force governments to slow down and negotiate better terms, or the projects proceed and we find out whether communities can actually survive the transformation. Right now, it's still being decided.