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Latino Voters Raise Alarms Over AI Data Centers’ Water, Energy, and Pollution Impacts
Aug 08, 2026
A new national poll finds Latino voters increasingly concerned about the rapid expansion of artificial intelligence (AI) data centers — especially when those facilities are built near their communities. The survey, conducted by Blue Rose Research for Climate Power En Acción, shows strong opposition to data‑center development tied to rising utility costs, water shortages, and pollution.
According to the poll, 58% of Latino voters oppose building AI data centers near residential areas when the question is framed around higher electricity bills, compared to just 18% who support it. Concerns remain high even when the focus shifts to water usage: 56% oppose construction if it risks reducing local water supplies.
Antonieta Cádiz, Executive Director of Climate Power En Acción, said the findings reflect what Latino communities have been expressing for years. “Our families live in the most polluted and vulnerable areas. With the expansion of data centers, there is strong concern in the community about the impact on electricity costs, water consumption, and air pollution,” Cádiz said. “This survey confirms what we hear time and time again: our communities want clean, affordable energy that reduces pollution, not empty promises from companies and politicians they don’t trust. Tech companies can’t be given a blank check; they must consider the impact they have on the communities where they build their data centers and act accordingly.”
The poll also shows overwhelming support for clean‑energy requirements: 59% of Latino voters say data centers should be required to run on clean energy, even if that slows construction. Only 19% believe they should be allowed to use any available energy source.
These concerns are emerging as data‑center development accelerates nationwide. Roughly one‑third of all U.S. data centers built or planned are located in communities where people of color make up at least 40% of residents, according to Climate Power’s memo.
Environmental‑justice advocates say this pattern mirrors long‑standing inequities. The Center for Biological Diversity, along with nearly 120 community and climate organizations, recently urged Congress to reject efforts to fast‑track AI data centers through permitting reform. Their letter warns that data‑center expansion is “deepening environmental injustice by concentrating facilities in low‑income communities and communities of color already overburdened by pollution and limited resources.”
LaTricea D. Adams, CEO of Young, Gifted & Green, said the stakes are clear: “Our democratic process was sidelined when our most powerful leaders championed a data center while community voices were shut out. What happens in Memphis can happen in cities and states across the country.”
Across the U.S., local governments are beginning to push back. In June, voters in Monterey Park, California, approved a citywide ban on new data centers with 86.4% support, making it the first city in the country to enact such a prohibition. Residents cited concerns about electricity demand, industrial infrastructure, and environmental impacts associated with AI‑driven data‑center growth. Mayor Elizabeth Yang said the landslide vote reflected “sustained resident organizing and civic engagement” and a commitment to “listening to residents.”
Globally, researchers warn that the boom in AI infrastructure is reshaping communities in ways that echo extractive industries. Ethnographer Steven Gonzalez Monserrate describes the trend as “terraforming,” arguing that tech giants are “taking land” and “natural resources” while influencing political decisions and creating “new colonialism” through digital infrastructure.
For Latino voters, the Climate Power poll suggests the issue is not abstract. It is about the tangible costs of electricity, the availability of water, and the health impacts of pollution — all in communities that already face disproportionate environmental burdens. As AI companies race to build more data centers, Latino voters are signaling they want safeguards, transparency, and clean‑energy commitments before these facilities reshape their neighborhoods.
Latino Voters Raise Alarms Over AI Data Centers’ Water, Energy, and Pollution Impacts was first published by the Latino News Network and republished with permission.
Hugo Balta is the executive editor of The Fulcrum and the publisher of the Latino News Network, and twice president of the National Association of Hispanic Journalists.
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Could AI help fund America's future? Explore how a sovereign wealth fund could reduce inequality, strengthen Social Security, and share AI-driven wealth.
in-future/Getty Images
Can a Sovereign Wealth Fund Secure America’s Future?
Aug 07, 2026
In his recent encyclical Magnifica humanitas, Pope Leo XIV stated that humanity is at a critical turning point, facing a pivotal choice regarding Artificial Intelligence and modern digital technologies. Indeed, AI experts on both sides of the aisle have worried that accelerating advances in AI technology could cause major disruptions to our economy and workforce, including rising inequality and mass unemployment.
To address these looming challenges, the CEO of OpenAI, Sam Altman, has made a bold offer: his company will gift the US government a 5% stake. At the company’s current stock price and valuation of nearly $900 billion, a 5% holding would be worth roughly $42.6 billion. That’s a handsome sum, and Altman has also proposed that other AI companies should match his company’s offer.
If other AI-related companies, such as Google, Microsoft, Anthropic, Nvidia, and Meta/Facebook, also gift to the government 5% stakes, the total holdings would be worth around $800 billion. Under Altman’s plan, that endowment would then be used as seed money for a sovereign wealth fund (SWF).
Sovereign wealth fund: a new approach for the United States
What is a sovereign wealth fund? What are its pros and cons? In the last few weeks, why has everyone from Donald Trump to Bernie Sanders to Vice President J.D. Vance and California governor Gavin Newsom plugged their own version of an SWF?
Interest is growing because, in a time of mounting government debt and declining government funding for public goods and services, a well-designed sovereign wealth fund could do a lot to amass a huge pot of money that could then be used to pay for urgent needs such as replacement income for laid off tech workers, affordable housing, health care, basic income for the poor, Social Security retirement—all without using taxpayer dollars.
Does that sound too good to be true?
The money in a sovereign wealth fund is invested in a range of appreciating capital investments—whether stocks, bonds, real estate, energy, or technology companies—which are allowed to grow over a 5 to 15-year period. Those investments eventually turn into a much larger pool of money, which the government can then spend on various public goods and services.
SWFs are globally popular
Sovereign wealth funds are currently used by over 60 countries with over 100 SWFs (some countries, such as China, have more than one) that together manage over $10 trillion of assets. Norway, with only 2% of the US population, has the largest sovereign wealth fund in the world, with $2.1 trillion in assets, supercharged by oil revenue from state-owned energy companies, which is invested in stocks and other assets to grow the fund over time. Norway’s sovereign wealth fund has swelled its enormous investment portfolio to the point where it provides more money to Norway's public budget than its oil profits do.
China has two SWFs totaling about $3.5 trillion and is using its investment returns to try and take the global lead in AI technology and other industries. Saudi Arabia, Australia, Singapore, Abu Dhabi, Kuwait and Indonesia all have an SWF worth about a trillion dollars each. In the right hands—such as Norway’s—a sovereign wealth fund can really do a lot to generate a ton of wealth for spending on public goods and services without needing to raise taxes or incur more government debt.
In the wrong hands, such as Saudi Arabia, it has been used as a slush fund by unaccountable political leaders for their own amusement. Saudi leaders have done foolish things like starting a new professional golf league, LIV Golf, which attracted grotesquely overpaid celebrity golfers, quickly lost $6 billion, and is on the verge of going bankrupt.
In the US, the states already lead the way
It’s worth noting that sovereign wealth funds are not “foreign” to American shores. In fact, 20 US states already have their own sovereign wealth funds, including Alaska ($78 billion—greater than Alaska’s state GDP), Texas ($56 billion), New Mexico ($34 billion), Wyoming ($26 billion), and North Dakota ($8.5 billion). Most of these are seeded by oil revenues earned by each state, which are then invested so that the state can benefit from ongoing investment returns. Some states, like Oregon and Minnesota, seed their SWFs with revenues earned from the public’s use of state lands. Most of these SWFs are fairly small, a couple of billion dollars or less, and nearly all of them use their funds for a single purpose: to help fund public education.
The Altman plan is certainly innovative, since US companies don’t usually give an ownership stake to a government. Once the $800 billion in seed money is invested, it could yield a net gain of $1.4 trillion to $2.5 trillion, depending on how it is allocated and for how long. But it is designed to be a one-time “wasting trust”—the Treasury gets $800 billion dollars up front, and begins an orderly liquidation over 10 years. Once 10 years have passed, the fund is finished. The one booster shot of financial adrenaline would be over. The CEOs of AI companies can say, “Hey, we tried to alleviate the harms of our invention,” but the Band-Aid would be temporary. Given that, a 5% stake is actually insufficient, and the White House should insist on more.
Even better, Norway's and other countries’ sovereign wealth funds are self-replenishing “permanent funds,” which makes a big difference. The single-shot Altman plan wouldn’t come close to plugging the large gap in America’s looming financing needs. A better plan would be to establish a more permanent revolving fund by selling 10-year Treasury notes to the public on a month-to-month and year-to-year basis to raise seed money, which would then be invested for a decade to produce capital gains, with all Americans as beneficiaries.
The benefits of “universal capitalism”
With a well-designed Federal Permanent Revenue Fund, what might the federal government do with an extra three to four trillion dollars per year? It could plug the $2.5 trillion shortfall in Social Security, which by 2032 is going to result in America’s 52 million retirees taking a 22 percent haircut, a loss of about $8000 or more per year for many beneficiaries. Or the federal Department of Housing and Urban Development, which currently spends around $20 billion each year to build or preserve affordable housing, could receive a large injection of money to partner with states and ramp up housing production all across the country. Or it could be used to pay unemployment benefits to AI-displaced workers.
The possibilities—the needs—are endless. The returns to beneficiaries could take multiple forms, including housing, education, healthcare, climate mitigation, childcare, and other public services and goods. And by designing the fund to incorporate the best practices for anti-corruption management used by successful countries like Norway, Australia, and Singapore, it is possible to maintain the right institutional guardrails. Some might worry that the stock market could crash and everything will sink underwater. However, since 1928, the US stock market has risen on average about 10% per year, and the market is up roughly 3 out of every 4 years; over any five to 10 year period, investments in index funds tied to the S&P 500, the Nasdaq or Dow Jones have always risen, and often outperformed America’s top blue-chip companies such as General Electric, AIG, IBM, Ford, and General Motors.
The fact is, the greatest “gold rush” of investment gains has been occurring for the past 70 years in the US economy, and the vast majority of Americans have missed out. That’s why the top 10% of wealthiest Americans own 93% of all stock equities today. This is the exact unfairness in capitalism that Louis Kelso, the financial visionary of universal capitalism, was determined to address. Kelso was a corporate finance attorney who first crafted the blueprint with his basic formula of “form a regulated trust => raise seed money => invest seed money => let it grow over time => reap the future returns on behalf of the broader public.”
A successful sovereign wealth fund designed like Norway’s could produce greater ownership and wealth for all Americans from the future returns on the SWF's investments. These funds would allow everyday people to benefit from the wealth creation generated by America’s most valuable businesses, and by new technologies like AI. Once initiated, a fund will take several years for its investments to reach maturity and be fully loaded. So the sooner America gets going on its launch, the better.
Steven Hill was policy director for the Center for Humane Technology, co-founder of FairVote, and political reform director at New America. See more of his writing at his Substack newsletter DemocracySOS.
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Baseball players place their caps over their hearts during the playing of the national anthem. Tacoma, Washington, USA.
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The Anthem and the Civic Thread That Still Holds America Together
Aug 07, 2026
Each year, from the first buds of spring to the turning of autumn leaves, America is captivated by baseball. From Major League parks to Little League fields, from minor league stadiums to collegiate summer diamonds, the game transcends geography, generation, and ideology. Fans gather to watch today's stars and tomorrow's prospects, united by America's pastime.
Change has been abundant in the century since America celebrated its 150th birthday. Yet, as Field of Dreams reminds us, "There has been one constant throughout the years… baseball." Accompanying that constant is a nearly century-old civic ritual, forged in moments of national challenge and renewed before nearly every first pitch: the singing of the National Anthem.
This summer, I am embarking on a project, in partnership with Civic Spirit, to sing the National Anthem at professional baseball games across the country in honor of America's 250th anniversary, highlighting the pride, civic responsibility, and shared values this tradition represents. Participating in this honored ritual has allowed me to see it not merely as a pregame tradition, but as one of America's most powerful expressions of civic identity.
Each year, tens of thousands of professional baseball games are played in the United States, each beginning with the National Anthem. Over the course of a season, tens of millions of Americans participate in one of the nation's most enduring shared civic customs.
No matter the place, time, league, or background of those in attendance, the moment is the same. Before the first pitch, fans, players, coaches, and staff rise together. There is something profoundly civic in that shared pause. It does not require agreement on every issue facing the country, nor uniformity of belief. Rather, it reminds us that civic life depends not on perfect consensus, but on broad participation, common rituals, and a shared commitment to fulfilling our responsibilities as citizens and neighbors.
The history of the National Anthem at baseball games reflects the patriotism and civic spirit that have defined the tradition from its earliest days. The earliest known performance of "The Star-Spangled Banner" at a baseball game occurred in Brooklyn in 1862, on the first Opening Day after the Civil War had disrupted the previous season. However, it would take decades before the anthem became a regular pregame activity.
That practice took hold during Game 1 of the 1918 World Series. With World War I nearing its end, a military band played the anthem during the seventh-inning stretch. As The New York Times reported, the anthem spread through the crowd until "a great volume of melody rolled across the field," ending in "thunderous applause."
By 1931, when Congress made "The Star-Spangled Banner" the official national anthem, baseball had already helped establish it as one of America's defining civic traditions. What began
as a wartime moment became a ritual repeated thousands of times each year, inviting generations of Americans to pause together before the first pitch.
The anthem's power lies not only in its history, but in its lyrics and musical composition. As anthem scholar Mark Clague observes, Francis Scott Key ended the anthem's first verse with a question mark, not an exclamation point. The anthem asks something of us. "It's not a period. It's not an ending. It's a question that needs an answer," Clague writes, and our answer says much about who we are and how we choose to love our country.
This idea feels particularly resonant for me. The National Anthem is no easy song to sing. It spans a wide vocal range and culminates in a famously difficult final note. That challenge symbolizes something larger: building and sustaining a stronger civic culture also requires effort, perseverance, and practice. Yet when the final note is reached, the crowd often responds with its loudest applause, a reminder that our greatest civic responsibilities, like the anthem itself, demand our best and reward our highest aspirations.
Our civic participation, unity, and commitment to the values that bind us cannot be limited to the moments when we stand or sing together. That sense of responsibility must extend beyond the ballpark, into how we live and engage with one another.
Our society is widely divided, but the threads that bind us remain. If the anthem has endured through war, political disagreement, and social change, perhaps it reminds us that our shared identity can endure as well.
While traveling to ballparks across the country, I've asked fans what hearing the National Anthem means to them. Across ages and regions, the answer has been remarkably consistent: hope and pride. Not an uncritical patriotism, nor an absence of disappointment or recognition that our country has work to do. Rather, a shared belief that America is worth celebrating, strengthening, and striving toward. It is that enduring sense of pride and commitment that gives me hope that, 250 years after our nation's founding, we will continue to play, sing, and work together to fulfill the promise of "the land of the free and the home of the brave."
As we celebrate the milestone semiquincentennial across America, let us remember our ability to stand together with a shared commitment to the civics, values, and responsibility that define us.
Eytan Saenger is a recent graduate from Binghamton University.
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Political polarization changes relationships in profound ways. Explore the psychology of contempt, fear, extremism, and how to reconnect with loved ones.
Yana Iskayeva/Getty Images
The Permission Slip
Aug 07, 2026
There is a particular grief in hearing someone you love speak with contempt, different from anger or disagreement because it turns people into categories and places them beneath regard.
I felt it recently when a friend blamed immigrants for the country’s supposed decline. The bluntness shocked me, but the familiarity disturbed me more.
Over the last eighteen months, versions of that same contempt surfaced among people close to me. I heard it in warnings that our country would not survive a Kamala Harris presidency, in calls to treat Democratic cities as war zones, in claims that trans people threaten our children with their mentally ill perversions. People I love said these things out loud, casually, as if trying them on for normal conversation.
Across the country, people live with the same private shock, watching loved ones change in ways they recognize but cannot quite explain. The language grows coarser, the worldview smaller, the scapegoating more open. Ideas they once rejected now come easily.
Perhaps the ugliness has been there all along, waiting for permission to come out of hiding.
Human beings are not as fixed as we imagine. We are social creatures before we are rational ones, taking cues from the people around us, especially those we admire, fear, or recognize as members of our tribe. We learn what can be said aloud, what gets rewarded, and where the boundaries lie by watching what happens to those who cross them.
Donald Trump’s rise to power forced a brutal lesson into view. In America, hateful rhetoric and disgraceful conduct could survive public exposure and become a source of power. He drew on the human instinct to divide people into real and suspect, then staged that division before the country again and again. People heard the words, and just as important, they heard the applause.
That was the permission slip.
Its power lies in the release it offers, turning suspicion into common sense, lending contempt the language of courage, and letting prejudice, once held down by shame, return dressed as honesty. Cruelty begins to feel like bravery.
None of this excuses the rhetoric or lessens its harm. Behind every target of contempt are neighbors and colleagues, children in our classrooms, families trying to live their lives. They do not owe patience to anyone performing cruelty as courage.
Still, for those of us watching someone we love drift toward it, the harder question remains: how do we get them back?
The honest answer is that no clean solution exists. Cutting people off can feel clarifying, and sometimes it is necessary. But when every dissenting voice leaves, the echo chamber becomes the whole room, and contempt hardens into identity. People with enough trust and history to remain may have more influence than they realize. Among those we must try to reach, two patterns appear most often: the fearful and the compliant.
The fearful person believes everything familiar is under threat: his country, his culture, his place in both. He absorbs sensationalized news until fear starts to feel like vigilance. His anxiety attaches itself to broad groups because vague enemies are easier to fear than real people are to understand.
To reach him, move the conversation back into the real world, away from the television and preferably outside. Draw him toward the people he actually knows among the groups he fears. Let abstraction give way to memory, proximity, and ordinary human detail, until the fog of fear lifts enough for him to see people again.
The compliant person defers. She likely spent her life inside structures that reward loyalty and discourage dissent, as many families, religions, and workplaces do. When the authority figures in her world spoke ugly ideas in unison, she followed out of habit, not conviction. Still, somewhere beneath that habit, a whisper in her conscience knows better. It has always been there, simply outranked.
Help her trust her own judgment by giving doubt a place to surface before it retreats back into silence. In that space, ask what she thinks before offering what you believe, and let her hear herself disagree without watching the relationship break. Every time she questions the chorus and the relationship survives, the whisper grows stronger, until her own voice no longer feels so dangerous to use.
It is easy to write off the people described here as no longer worth the effort. The ugliness is real, but these are not strangers. Lost people are not lost causes. Offer them a different permission, one that allows them to question, to soften, and to return without being destroyed by the shame of having wandered.
Go get them back.
Argyle Nelson is a retail executive and Army veteran. A graduate of West Point, he served two combat tours in Iraq as an infantry officer and received the Bronze Star. He writes about civic responsibility, political culture, and the obligations of citizenship.
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