On May 12, the local township committee introduced an ordinance, which seems certain to pass by the end of the month, to ban artificial intelligence data centers in Andover Township, N.J. The ordinance is the result of a local movement that offers a blueprint for other cities and towns trying to stop environmentally destructive data centers. 

The likely ban comes after weeks of protests, contentious town meetings and activism that included faith-based language warning of the ecological damage that would result from the large-scale development of A.I. It is probably not often that a pope is quoted to a town meeting in New Jersey, but on April 21, at a meeting of the land use board, a resident ended her allotted time by noting that it had been a year since the passing of Pope Francis. 

She paused and then said she wanted to share his words on ecology and social justice, from “Laudato Si’”: “We are faced not with two separate crises, one environmental and the other social, but rather with one complex crisis which is both social and environmental. Strategies for a solution demand an integrated approach to combating poverty, restoring dignity to the excluded and at the same time protecting nature” (No. 139). The crowd reacted to her statement with strong applause.

The land use board typically meets in Andover Township’s municipal building, but in recent weeks it has relocated to the Hillside Barn, a more expansive town-owned space lined with windows. During the day, sunlight streams inside, illuminating the dark wood walls and reflecting off the polished floor. At night the space feels shadowy and calm—usually. But sleepy procedural meetings have ballooned to hundreds of attendees, filling the seats and lining the walls.

As a resident of this town for 15 years, I know this building well. My twin daughters chased a 6-foot-tall Elmo during their birthday party there. I vote there. I play basketball on the courts outside and run along the trails that surround its park. In small towns, a space like this serves many purposes, and it brings a community together. In recent weeks our middle-class community—young and old, conservative and liberal, tech-steeped and comfortably Luddite—has come together to oppose one example of an alarming proliferation of energy-sucking A.I. facilities. 

The proposed A.I. data center would have threatened to pollute our town, further spike my electricity bill, deplete water from our local farms, increase industrial traffic on rural back roads and turn my town’s quiet atmosphere into constant noise. I understand the fears of someone who faces the prospect of a data center opening near their home—whether you live in a small town as I do, or in the middle of a city. This may sound like a not-in-my-backyard mentality, and perhaps it is. But in this case, NIMBYism may serve the common good by putting a brake on the rapid proliferation of these mammoth facilities. 

Andover Township is a typical town in Sussex County, an area spotted with lakes and swathed with forests in the northwestern corner of the state. Home to fewer than 150,000 residents, Sussex is bordered by Passaic County—an area with less than half the land, but three times the population. Andover Township is an especially appealing location for development, with only 6,500 residents across 21 square miles and easy truck access through Route 206, a two-lane road that spans most of the state. The town was also once the site of Newton Airport, a sparsely used landing strip tucked between the Pequest River and Stickle Pond. That area was approved for a large warehouse in 2024, but developers later pitched a data center instead. 

My town’s successful opposition to the A.I. data center sets an example for other towns and neighborhoods to fight back. The protests and the many comments against the proposal from residents attending town meetings were vital. It was also important to research every detail of the proposal and make the public aware of them. In this case, for example, the data center would have required a zoning change to allow taller buildings on the site. The developers also suggested making direct payments to the town instead of paying property taxes; perhaps the town would have come out ahead in such an arrangement, but voters should be skeptical of the idea that data centers should be treated differently than other commercial properties.

Dirty water and constant noise

A.I. data centers have already driven up greenhouse gas emissions and further polluted communities across America. These centers require large parcels of land and access to water. In Fayette County, Ga., the development of such centers has tainted the Flint River and its tributaries. Fresh water that used to be clear is now cloudy, brown and orange, and some residents claim their well water has soured. Unending, high-pitched whines anger residents of Loudoun County, Va. Opposition to data centers brings together those on the political left and right. There is perhaps nothing more antithetical to traditional conservatism than destroying small towns and displacing residents.

Developers sell data centers with the promise of jobs and economic relief to struggling areas. One example is Archbald, a town of about 7,500 in northeastern Pennsylvania. Like other towns in the Lackawanna Valley, Archbald was once part of the booming coal industry. Those jobs are now long gone, and years of economic strain have taken their toll. Project Scott, a plan for multiple A.I. data centers that would cover 14 percent Archbald’s land area, might bring an economic boost during its construction. But data centers rarely create long-term employment for local residents. 

Stephan Bisaha, writing for NPR, notes that unlike a car factory that “[brings] in thousands of jobs,” data centers are “more like a warehouse for computers running on really expensive chips.” They don’t require much more than a skeleton crew of about 100—which means that small towns are hooked on the rhetoric of innovation rather than actual employment.

Here in Andover Township, in the weeks since the original meeting, local activists have mobilized into groups like the Sussex Visibility Brigade and Protect Andover. At least some of the members of these groups say they are inspired by their faith to protect nature.

“As a person of faith, I also feel a deep responsibility to steward and preserve the natural environment that remains in our state,” Eric Crafton, a Lutheran and a member of Protect Andover, told me in an email.

A decorated veteran of the Army National Guard and the founder and president of the New Jersey Veteran Support Alliance, Mr. Crafton notes that veterans have been particularly drawn to the area as they “seek peace after defending our country, and God has provided that peace in every leaf, river, and lake. The proposed construction of a data center and similar large-scale developments threatens to undermine that quality of life.” Mr. Crafton cited the Book of Numbers in his e-mail to me: “You shall not pollute the land in which you live…. You shall not defile the land in which you live, in the midst of which I dwell.”

Sydney Hesse, the local resident who quoted Pope Francis at a recent meeting, wrote to me that integral ecology “is the foundation of my opposition to poorly regulated data center development,” for it “holds that the cries of the earth and the cries of the poor are interconnected.” Ms. Hesse, a graduate student in speech-language pathology, says that “data centers are pertinent to integral ecology, liberation theology and C.S.T. [Catholic social teaching] because their development necessarily limits access to resources such as clean air, clean water, quiet spaces, undisturbed nature and overall health.”

She added: “What we deem acceptable for the poorest among us is what we deem acceptable for Jesus, who walks among the poor and oppressed. If we accept the development of data centers, we accept that many of our neighbors will not have access to clean air or water.” 

Small towns across America are fighting back against billionaire investors and mysterious corporations—and are doing so steeped in community and faith. Catholics should see the environmental fight against the unfettered development of A.I. as the synthesis of spiritual and civic concerns.

We appear to have won our fight in Andover—for now. But the rise of A.I. data centers threatens the quality of life in communities throughout the United States, and that danger will reverberate across future generations. Short-term economic gains never justify long-term destruction. 

Nick Ripatrazone has written for Rolling Stone, The Atlantic, The Paris Review and Esquire. His books include Ember Days, a collection of stories and Longing for an Absent God: Faith and Doubt in Great American Fiction.