Translate

Showing posts with label AI Data Centers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label AI Data Centers. Show all posts

Sunday, October 18, 2026

While We Fight the Culture Wars, Who’s Picking Our Pockets? A Political Reckoning in South Texas, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

While We Fight the Culture Wars, Who’s Picking Our Pockets? A Political Reckoning in South Texas

by

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

Happy Sunday morning.

Gaige Davila’s October 6, 2026, Texas Observer article, “South Texas Is Moving On from Trump,” offers a fascinating and potentially consequential look at the shifting political landscape of South Texas. After Donald Trump made significant gains among Latino voters in 2024, the region now appears to be reconsidering its support for the Republican Party. Rising living costs, increasingly aggressive immigration enforcement, data centers, and growing frustration with billionaire influence in politics are contributing to this shift.

Particularly revealing is Davila’s reporting on Republican candidates who are distancing themselves from Trump and his policies, even as Democrats seek to reconnect with voters around bread-and-butter issues such as affordable living, public education, infrastructure, and community safety. As several political observers caution, however, it remains too early to know whether this represents a lasting political realignment or a reaction to the present administration.

What I find especially compelling is the possibility that South Texas voters are moving beyond the divisive culture wars that have dominated our politics for far too long. State Representative and gubernatorial candidate Gina Hinojosa, who grew up in Brownsville, captures this frustration when she observes that while ordinary Texans have been fighting among themselves over partisan differences, billionaires have been the real winners. Her question—“Who does Texas belong to?”—gets to the heart of what is at stake.

For communities whose histories are rooted in struggles for educational opportunity, economic justice, and civil rights, this election is about far more than party loyalty. It is about whether government serves working families and local communities or the wealthy and powerful interests that increasingly shape our political and economic lives.

What I find especially encouraging is that the curtain is finally being pulled back on the culture wars, exposing how they can function as political distractions that keep ordinary people divided and fighting among themselves while powerful interests consolidate their wealth, influence, and control over public policy. While we're encouraged to fight over race, immigration, gender, and identity, far too little attention is paid to who is profiting, who is paying the price, and how working families are being shortchanged.

This reminds me of a remarkably perceptive observation by President Lyndon B. Johnson, recounted by his former aide Bill Moyers in 1988. Reflecting on how racial prejudice could be exploited to distract working people from their shared economic interests, Johnson reportedly said:

“If you can convince the lowest white man he's better than the best colored man, he won't notice you're picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and he'll empty his pockets for you.”

—Lyndon B. Johnson, as recalled by Bill Moyers (1988)

Johnson was speaking specifically about the exploitation of racial prejudice, but his observation speaks to a larger political dynamic that remains relevant today. When people are persuaded to see their neighbors as the source of their problems, they may pay less attention to those who wield economic and political power over their lives. And that is precisely why we must question whose interests are served by the seemingly endless culture wars consuming our public discourse.

Perhaps the most hopeful development is that more voters are beginning to connect the dots, recognizing that the real struggle is not necessarily between neighbors with different political loyalties, but between the public interest and a political and economic system increasingly responsive to those with the deepest pockets. The more clearly voters see through these distractions, the harder it becomes for those in power to divide us while picking our pockets.

Davila’s reporting reminds us that Latino voters are neither politically monolithic nor permanently aligned with any party. Their votes must be earned through policies that meaningfully improve their lives and honor their communities.

Indeed, no political party or candidate is entitled to anyone’s vote. Period. In my opinion, every vote must be earned, and every elected official must remain accountable to the people they serve. Political loyalty should never be presumed on the basis of race, ethnicity, geography, or historical party affiliation. Nor should voters be treated as electoral commodities, courted when their support is needed and forgotten once the ballots are counted.

Voters deserve to be taken seriously, listened to, and respected. Their support should be earned through meaningful engagement, demonstrated integrity, and policies that address the real concerns and aspirations of their communities.

Ultimately, democracy is strongest when voters hold elected officials accountable, question their promises, and insist that public service means serving the public rather than powerful special interests. No party owns our votes, and none should ever take them for granted.

Democracy belongs to the people—not to political parties, wealthy donors, tech billionaires, or powerful special interests. And the moment we allow any political party to take our votes for granted, we diminish our own power to demand the representation, accountability, and justice we deserve.

References

Davila, G. (2026, October 6). South Texas is moving on from Trump. The Texas Observer. https://www.texasobserver.org/south-texas-2026-trump-cuellar-gonzalez-hinojosa/

Moyers, B. D. (1988, November 13). What a real president was like: To Lyndon Johnson, the Great Society meant hope and dignity. The Washington Post. https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/opinions/1988/11/13/what-a-real-president-was-like/d483c1be-d0da-43b7-bde6-04e10106ff6c/




The region looks poised to return to its centrist-Democrat roots, as the president fails to bring down costs and the reality of mass deportations takes hold. But 2028 could be another test.

by Gaige Davila October 6, 2026, 7:15 AM, CDT

Ten years after Donald Trump was first elected President, the Republican Party has placed its chips on a region that would have made little sense at any other time in the last century: South Texas. Yet, if current polling holds, the GOP may have already overplayed its hand.

Congressional districts from San Antonio down to Brownsville, aggressively (and perhaps foolishly) redrawn at Trump’s orders, are at the crux of any Republican midterm hopes to hold the U.S. House, and state legislative races are similarly key to the party keeping its comfortable supermajority in Texas’ lower chamber. Up to the top of the ballot, where South Texas voters were key to James Talarico’s primary victory and where Brownsville-raised Gina Hinojosa sits one rung down, the region may hold the car keys. All as Republicans run without the man who seemed to break Democrats’ hold in the area on the ticket.

With weeks left to go, proclamations of another “red wave” coming to the region—after Trump flipped the majority-Latino South Texas border in 2024 and the GOP seized a state Senate seat while holding onto a congressional and state House district snagged two years before—are no more. Instead, national GOP leadership, like House Speaker Mike Johnson, is anxiously coming to stump for South Texas’ GOP candidates, working to convince voters that the stakes are high for the Republican Party this year.


Supporters of Texas Democratic candidate for Governor Gina Hinojosa
during a campaign rally in Brownsville on September 15 (Gaige Davila)

“[Democrats] want to remove the president, okay. They want one, unicameral body, the House, to run everything. You have to ask yourself why,” Johnson told a couple dozen people in Sinton in August at The Butter Churn, where he was campaigning for Monica De La Cruz, who since 2022 has represented Congressional District 15, which sprawls from near San Antonio down to the Rio Grande. “Because they have calculated that, over the next couple of cycles, they can elect enough Marxist communists to take over the whole thing.”

The national GOP has opened a “battle station” in Harlingen, near Brownsville in the Rio Grande Valley, much like they did in McAllen years prior, hoping to hold the electoral gains it made in the four-county, 1.4-million-person southern tip of the region. That hold looks increasingly tenuous as the popular Tejano singer Bobby Pulido has turned De La Cruz’s CD-15 into a toss-up, per the Cook Political Report, and incumbents Vicente Gonzalez and Henry Cuellar look increasingly likely to keep their districts, the 34th and 28th, that were re-gerrymandered for GOP pickup.

The prognosis is perhaps unsurprising in retrospect, since there were always signs the 2024 South Texas swing could have been peculiar to that specific presidential context. Downballot Democrats largely survived the Trump wave. And all that was before, of course, South Texas became ground zero for the harsh realities of Trump’s mass deportation project.

South Texas GOP candidates are appearing to now distance themselves from Trump and his policies—after ICE has arrested tens of thousands of people in the agency’s Harlingen and San Antonio sectors, where most of these races are located; after the cost of living has continued to increase in these metro areas; and after sometimes-trillionaire Elon Musk’s company town and its proliferation outside of Brownsville has drawn more ire from surrounding communities with each rocket launch. Democrats are capitalizing on the frustration, with the party’s confidence resurging.

Dems are coalescing around messaging that also seems to be resonating statewide, such as the platform of Austin state Representative Gina Hinojosa, the gubernatorial hopeful whose roots are in the Valley. This includes lowering the cost of living, holding Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) accountable after repeated violence, and getting billionaires out of politics.

Red scare efforts aside, South Texas’ GOP candidates for Congress and the state Legislature are actually running on similar platforms to Democrats on some issues, vying for the same kind of support that has kept the region—up until recently—a stronghold for moderate Democrats. Republican legislator Janie Lopez, who won her San Benito-based state House seat in 2022, is campaigning on fixing roads and flood infrastructure. One of De La Cruz’s TV ads talks about lowering costs for people working in restaurants. Eric Flores, a former federal prosecutor under the Biden administration who’s challenging Gonzalez, has made water one of his campaign focuses. Nary a “mass deportations” sign in sight.

Two years prior, it seemed everyone running in South Texas races had a border security ad, even Michelle Vallejo, a progressive who was then running in a losing bid against De La Cruz.

Now, De La Cruz herself has advocated for and helped release some people from ICE detention. But it may be too late to create distance from ICE, Trump, and the cost of living, experts told the Texas Observer.

“We’ve seen a sea change, in just two years: a sea change in Latino voting from what we saw in ’24, where we saw a substantial number of Latinos vote for Trump, vote for Republicans,” Jon Taylor, the University of Texas San Antonio’s political science department chair, told the Observer. “And now, if you look at polling, consistently now you’re seeing a complete flip in the other direction toward Democrats.”

This loss of support isn’t limited to Latino voters in South Texas, but—as both the site of 2024’s perhaps most surprising pro-Trump swing and many of the president’s most harmful policies in practice—South Texas may serve as the definitive referendum on the White House occupant this November.

“I have to say, it doesn’t feel like 2018 quite for me,” Vicente Gonzalez, the incumbent Democratic congressman for CD-34, which runs from Brownsville to Corpus Christi, told the Observer in a September phone call. “I wasn’t working near as hard as I am right now in 2018, I’ll tell you that.”

Having been redrawn last summer into a district that went for Trump in 2024 by 10 points, Gonzalez says Democrats can’t take another election for granted in South Texas. But Democratic turnout during the primaries this March has Gonzalez hopeful.

That’s partly because Gonzalez has already managed to survive a decade’s worth of election cycles, in the 34th and in the neighboring 15th, which he vacated voluntarily and is now held by De La Cruz.

Back in 2022, the self-described “triple threat” of De La Cruz plus Mayra Flores and Cassy Garcia all of whom were Rio Grande Valley-based, right-wing Latinas vying for seats with districts that stretched as far as San Antonio and its suburbs, garnered much media attention. South Texas’ Latino voters were simultaneously being invested in by the Republican party and disinvested in by Democrats, or so the narrative went. But the Blue Dog Dem congressmen, Gonzalez and Henry Cuellar—whose Laredo-based 28th stretches down into the Valley—held Flores and Garcia at bay. Cuellar then rebuffed (criminal pardon-related) speculation that he might change parties late last year, setting up the two men, often derided by liberals within their own party in the past, as the resilient paragons of the South Texas Democrat style.

Vicente Gonzalez in November 2022 (Denise Cathey/The Brownsville
Herald via AP)

Eric Flores, Gonzalez’s opponent, prevailed in the March GOP primary thanks to Trump’s backing and recently got a stump speech from Vice President JD Vance in Harlingen. Earlier this year, Trump visited a Corpus Christi Whataburger with Flores in tow. The president has twice posted a video on his social media channels calling for people to vote for Flores. He’s done similar for De La Cruz.

But, following the primaries, Flores’ campaign signs don’t say he’s endorsed by Trump anymore. He also recoiled when a local Democratic Party made campaign signs that looked like Flores’ older signs, saying the National Guard Army veteran was “Trump Endorsed” and supported ICE. In a statement on social media, Flores used the term “dirty tricks” to describe the signs that tied him to the president who likely secured his congressional nomination for him and to the federal agency that’s carrying out the same president’s signature policy promise.

A survey from Texas Southern University’s policy research arm says the race is now in Gonzalez’s favor. Mark P. Jones, one of the authors of the survey report and a professor of political science at Rice University, said the GOP, when they redrew districts in 2025, depended on a voting bloc to turn out that likely won’t this election: young, Latino men who voted for Trump.

“It’s not that many of them have decided to become Democrats, although some will vote Democratic,” Jones told the Observer, describing some of the survey respondents. “They are disillusioned by Trump and are not motivated to turn out to vote for anyone this year.”

Redistricting is also a factor in De La Cruz’s reelection chances. The new CD-15 map, though shifted just slightly east, removed about 60 percent of De La Cruz’s previous constituents, meaning she had to introduce herself to voters while her opponent, Bobby Pulido, is one of the most successful Tejano artists of all time. In South Texas, his name recognition is undeniable, and policy-wise he’s running in the established mold of Gonzalez and Cuellar. Which means De La Cruz, arguably, does not have the incumbent advantage, despite two terms in Congress.

“You add that with he had a profile of someone who you can’t easily portray as left, as a coastal elite, or a coastal liberal, and that he’s from the Valley,” Jones said. “But [he] also has, historically, had a set of positions and has a profile of somebody who’s a traditional South Texas centrist.”

Democrats are largely eschewing progressivism this cycle, after the failed congressional bids in recent cycles of Vallejo and Jessica Cisneros, who nearly ousted Cuellar in two Dem primaries. With one exception: the Bernie Sanders-backed Julio Salinas, who won the Democratic primary for the McAllen-based House District 41 against former city council member and moderate Democrat Seby Haddad.

“South Texas voters are, in their heart of hearts, centrist Democrats. The majority are,” Jones said of the region’s electorate going from blue to red and possibly back to blue. “That’s the dominant political organization in South Texas. … They also are not going to vote for extreme Republican candidates if they’re given a palatable Democratic alternative.”


Henry Cuellar and Tano Tijerina 2026 campaign signs posted next to each
other in Laredo (Justin Miller)

As for whether the Blue Dogs are truly back in town, Gonzalez said it will take some time to know for sure. Trump is omnipresent in the GOP’s South Texas races, having endorsed all the current Republican congressional and legislative candidates and made a handful of appearances in the area, but this remains a midterm race. Time will tell if, one way or another, a 2024-like effect can be achieved in 2028.

“I think it’s going to take another couple of election cycles to really say there is a trend one way or another,” Gonzalez said. “I always said Donald Trump brings a different type of excitement to an election.”

Eric Flores’ campaign did not respond to the Observer’s request for an interview.

In mid-September, at an event center on the southwestern edge of Brownsville, Gina Hinojosa was welcomed by hundreds of people, as Selena’s “Como Me Duele” reverberated from several loudspeakers through a space that hosts many of the city’s quinceañeras.

It was as “South Texas” of a homecoming as Hinojosa could have. She’s represented central Austin in the Texas Legislature since 2017 but was raised in Brownsville, making the Rio Grande Valley a recurring campaign stop since she announced her candidacy in her hometown eleven months prior. With less than two months left before the election, Hinojosa blamed the state’s healthcare, public school, and electricity woes on Greg Abbott, his donors, and tech billionaires.

“What people have finally figured out is, as we’ve been in our partisan tribes for the last 10 years, fighting each other with the culture wars over Thanksgiving dinner, fighting with our families about culture wars, the only people winning those wars are the billionaires,” Hinojosa said. “Like, 15 billionaire tech dudes who just have massive money and massive power and all of our data, and are about to blow up this planet … if we don’t come together fast to save ourselves—that’s what this election is about. Who does Texas belong to?”

Though she didn’t mention issues particular to the Valley in her speech, she did tell the Observer afterward that ICE was not the kind of border security she supported. That morning, she had visited homes under construction with the South Texas Builders Association, a group with a president that has become particularly outspoken about ICE detaining people on job sites and about regretting his prior support of Trump. A few days before her visit to Brownsville, two ICE agents pulled a teenager out of a car at an Alamo intersection, punched his face several times, then put him in handcuffs.

“These ICE raids are not making us more safe. They’re making us less safe,” she said. “I support border security here at the border. We want secure communities, right? But that’s making us less safe, not more safe.”

Nearly everyone who came to the rally lined up to take photos with Hinojosa, as Cameron County’s senior Democratic players talked among themselves, leaning against the stage. Former classmates of Hinojosa brought yearbooks to sign, supporters their campaign signs, and one person an infant child.


Hinojosa signs the shirt of Lisa Peña’s son, Romeo, on September 15
(Gaige Davila)

Zoe Griffith, a first-time voter from Brownsville who has organized with Healthy Futures of Texas, attended the rally with her mother, Christine Ramos, a local high school teacher and Marine veteran. Griffith said that Hinojosa’s positions against data centers and egregious ICE arrests are why she’ll be voting for her.

“Having seen Greg Abbott and how he runs in Texas, I want to see better change from my generation, and especially the generations that come before me,” she told the Observer. “Having people like Gina, especially as a female role model, it brings me more hope.”

Gaige Davila is the Texas Observer's 2026-27 David McHam investigative reporting fellow covering the border and immigration. Davila is from Port Isabel in the Rio Grande Valley. He studied investigative journalism at Arizona State University.

Wednesday, September 02, 2026

Save Rural Texas: Our Land, Our Water, and Our Future Are Not a Blank Check for AI, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D. September 2, 2026

Save Rural Texas: Our Land, Our Water, and Our Future Are Not a Blank Check for AI

by 

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

September 2, 2026

I want to call attention to Save Rural Texas, a growing grassroots movement organizing to protect rural Texans’ land, water, property rights, infrastructure, and communities amid the extraordinary expansion of artificial-intelligence data centers. Its message should resonate across political lines: economic development does not entitle corporations to a blank check on our land, water, electricity, or local democracy.

Artificial intelligence is often described as though it exists somewhere intangible, in “the cloud.” But the cloud has an address. It occupies land. It requires substations, transmission lines, generating capacity, roads, enormous buildings filled with servers, cooling systems, and, depending on their design, potentially extraordinary amounts of water. 

Increasingly, that address is rural Texas.

A recent Texas Tribune analysis found that more than half of the data centers planned for Texas are slated for unincorporated areas, precisely where county governments possess substantially less land-use authority than municipalities (Cobler, 2026). In places such as Hood County, residents confronting multiple proposed data centers have raised concerns about water, electricity, noise, traffic, pollution, and the transformation of rural landscapes, only to discover how little authority local governments possess to regulate what is coming (Martinez et al., 2026).

In this vein, I encourage you to listen to this community conversation on the matter with James Talarico to get a sense of just how profoundly our communities, landscape, and wildlife are already being impacted.

This raises a fundamental question about property rights. What does private property mean when a rural landowner can defend the boundaries of a ranch or farm but possesses very little democratic authority over an enormous industrial complex next door? Property rights cannot mean only the rights of corporations wealthy enough to assemble thousands of acres. They must also include the rights of families whose homes, wells, farms, roads, landscapes, and communities surround these developments. 

Texas groundwater law still carries something of a survival-of-the-fittest logic through the rule of capture—what the Texas Water Development Board has memorably described as the “law of the biggest pump.”

This raises an obvious question: In an era of hyperscale AI development, what happens when the biggest pump is backed by the deepest corporate pockets?

Although groundwater conservation districts provide regulation in many places, Texas has no single statewide agency controlling groundwater production, and areas outside groundwater districts remain especially vulnerable (Texas Commission on Environmental Quality, 2025; Texas Water Development Board, n.d.-a).

That legal framework developed long before anyone imagined hyperscale AI facilities. What happens when the proverbial biggest pump belongs not to another farmer or rancher but to one of the most heavily capitalized industries in the world?

Luke Metzger, executive director of Environment Texas Research & Policy Center, and I explored precisely this problem in our essay, “Draining the Ogallala Aquifer for AI? Project Matador and the Myth of Limitless Growth.” Project Matador, being developed by Fermi America in partnership with the Texas Tech University System northeast of Amarillo, is envisioned as a massive artificial-intelligence and energy campus covering roughly 7,570 acres. It is situated in a region deeply dependent upon the already-stressed Ogallala Aquifer (Valenzuela & Metzger, 2026).

The Texas Water Development Board has documented long-term declines in the Ogallala because groundwater withdrawals in much of the region exceed recharge (Texas Water Development Board, n.d.-b). Yet Project Matador has secured access to substantial water supplies. Access does not necessarily equal daily consumption, and actual usage will depend on cooling technology, recycling, buildout, weather, and other factors. Nevertheless, the potential scale should command our attention.

Metzger and I made a simple point that bears repeating: paying more for water does not make it renewable. A corporation's capacity to purchase a scarce natural resource does not answer the larger public question of whether that resource should be consumed at that scale. Markets answer, Who can afford it? Democratic governance must answer, What must be preserved?

This is why Project Matador and Save Rural Texas belong in the same conversation. Both expose an emerging imbalance in which private capital can move faster than democratic governance and ecological knowledge. Texas communities too often learn about massive projects after land has been acquired, financing negotiated, nondisclosure agreements signed, and development plans advanced. The corporation knows what it needs to know about the community before investing; the community may know very little about the corporation until the project is difficult to stop (Goldenstein & Foxhall, 2026).

Governor Greg Abbott's August 3 directive ordering an audit of data centers seeking connections to the Texas electrical grid is therefore significant. It recognizes that the state needs better information about electricity use, water, cooling systems, ownership, incentives, and community impacts (Office of the Texas Governor, 2026). But an audit should be the beginning of reform, not its conclusion. Texas still needs meaningful groundwater protections, greater transparency, genuine community participation, clearer limits on public subsidies, and stronger authority for rural communities confronting projects capable of permanently transforming their landscapes.

People across Texas are struggling to find information about proposed data center projects popping up in their neighborhoods, like Mason McCallister, center, who has been on a crusade to get information. Meanwhile, local officials and even state elected leaders say they need more information to regulate the growing industry. Illustration by Mariana Ocejo for The Texas Tribune. Source images: Shelby Tauber, Leila Saidane, and Briana Vargas for The Texas Tribune; Aiden Gonzalez/The Texas Tribune

That is why I support Save Rural Texas. Its position is not anti-technology. Artificial intelligence may produce genuine advances in medicine, science, education, accessibility, climate research, and communications. But acknowledging those possibilities does not mean accepting every data center, at every location, at every scale, consuming whatever water and electricity its owners can purchase.

That is not innovation policy. It is the surrender of public decision-making to the idea that technological expansion is inevitable.

There must be places where Texas says yes to data centers, places where the answer is yes only under enforceable conditions, and places where the answer must be no—because an aquifer cannot sustain the demand, because the electrical grid cannot support it, because the public subsidy outweighs the demonstrated benefit, or simply because a community decides that thousands of acres of agricultural land should remain agricultural land.

Rural Texas is not vacant territory awaiting its highest bidder. It is home, agricultural production, groundwater, habitat, history, family inheritance, and community. Texas can embrace innovation and participate in the future of artificial intelligence without surrendering the principle that technology must remain accountable to people and place.

Our communities are not sacrifice zones. Our aquifers are not corporate reservoirs. And our land, water, and future are not for sale simply because someone arrives with the biggest check—or the biggest pump.

References

Cobler, P. (2026, August 14). Data center audit lacks specifics even as Gov. Abbott, industry leaders tout it. The Texas Tribune. https://www.texastribune.org/2026/08/14/data-center-texas-audit-moratorium/

Goldenstein, T., & Foxhall, E. (2026, August 10). While data centers boom in Texas, their plans stay shrouded in secrecy. The Texas Tribune. https://www.texastribune.org/2026/08/10/texas-data-centers-transparency-information/

Martinez, A., Tauber, S., Mahajan, A., & Ford, A. (2026, June 2). Eight data centers threaten to transform this small Texas county. Local officials say they have no power to stop them. The Texas Tribune. https://www.texastribune.org/2026/06/02/texas-data-centers-hood-county-local-control-rural-water-power/

Office of the Texas Governor. (2026, August 3). Governor Abbott directs comprehensive data center audit. https://gov.texas.gov/news/post/governor-abbott-directs-comprehensive-data-center-audit

Save Rural Texas. (n.d.). Save Rural Texas. https://www.saveruraltexas.com/

Texas Commission on Environmental Quality. (2025). Groundwater regulation for private well owners. https://www.tceq.texas.gov/response/drought/groundwater_regulation.html

Texas Water Development Board. (n.d.-a). General groundwater and private water well frequently asked questions (FAQ). https://www.twdb.texas.gov/groundwater/faq/faqgwm.asp

Texas Water Development Board. (n.d.-b). Ogallala Aquifer. https://www.twdb.texas.gov/groundwater/aquifer/majors/ogallala.asp

Valenzuela, A., & Metzger, L. (2026, July 23). Draining the Ogallala Aquifer for AI? Project Matador and the myth of limitless growth. Environment Texas Research & Policy Center. https://environmentamerica.org/texas/center/articles/draining-the-ogallala-aquifer-for-ai-project-matador-and-the-myth-of-limitless-growth/


Saturday, July 25, 2026

Draining the Ogallala Aquifer for AI? Project Matador and the myth of limitless growth, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D. & Luke Metzger, Exec. Dir., Environment Texas Research & Policy Center

Friends,

I’m pleased to share a newly-published article co-authored with Luke Metzger, executive director of the Environment Texas Research & Policy Center, and published on the Center’s website.

Project Matador, a massive artificial-intelligence and energy campus under construction near Amarillo, raises urgent questions about water, natural gas, public land, corporate accountability, and the proper role of a public university in facilitating private development. At the center of our concern is the already-declining Ogallala Aquifer, upon which agriculture, communities, and future generations throughout the Texas Panhandle—and seven other states—depend.

AI is often presented as an immaterial technology existing somewhere in “the cloud,” but its infrastructure is being built on Texas soil—and it requires enormous quantities of water, electricity, land, and other public resources. Decisions of this magnitude should not proceed without transparency, independent environmental analysis, enforceable protections, and meaningful public participation.

I am grateful to Luke Metzger for this collaboration and to the Environment Texas Research & Policy Center for publishing our analysis. I also appreciate the work of the Panhandle 1st Coalition and others who are raising critical questions about Project Matador and its long-term consequences.

I invite you to read and share the article. This is not simply a regional issue. It is a question of what kinds of technological development Texas will support, who will bear the environmental costs, and what obligations we have to citizens and residents in other states, as well as to the generations that follow us. -AV



A 17-gigawatt AI campus in the Texas Panhandle is staking its future on water the region doesn't have to spare.

by 

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D., Professor of Educational Leadership and Policy at The University of Texas at Austin & Luke Metzger, Executive Director, Environment Texas Research & Policy Center

July 23, 2026


Google Data Center, Council Bluffs, Iowa


A massive artificial-intelligence (AI) infrastructure project is rising approximately 12 miles northeast of Amarillo. Known as Project Matador, the development is being built by Fermi America through a partnership with the Texas Tech University System and promoted as the largest private energy and artificial-intelligence campus in the world.The scale is staggering. Early plans described a roughly 6,000-acre campus capable of generating 11 gigawatts of electricity—enough to power the equivalent of approximately 8.2 million homes, by the company’s own estimate. Now the company says it will produce 17 gigawatts across 7,570 acres, with natural gas, solar energy, battery storage, and four proposed nuclear reactors providing the power.

All of this infrastructure is intended principally to power AI.

The project’s name carries an unsettling irony. In Spanish, matador literally means “one who kills”—the bullfighter charged with dispatching the bull. It was presumably chosen to evoke daring and spectacle, but for a project that could drain a declining aquifer and deepen reliance on natural gas, the literal meaning reads less like incidental branding and more like a warning.

What, exactly, might Project Matador ultimately kill—or help exhaust—if not the Ogallala Aquifer, one of the largest groundwater systems in the United States?

Project Matador is therefore more than an industrial development. It represents an extraordinary commitment of land, energy, water, public institutional resources, and environmental capacity to a privately controlled computational enterprise whose long-term public benefits remain uncertain.

Artificial intelligence is often described as though it were immaterial, existing somewhere in the “cloud.” In reality, AI depends on a vast physical infrastructure of data centers, chips, pipelines, power plants, transmission lines, cooling systems, and water. The cloud is not floating above us. It is being built on Texas soil.

Although Fermi America describes a diversified energy mix, the project’s near-term foundation appears to rely heavily on natural gas. The company boasts about both receiving a clean air permit for up to 6 GW of natural gas power generation and having easy access to both underground gas and ”Waha Hub, a giant U.S. marketplace for natural gas.” In addition, the company has a long-term agreement to purchase a large amount of natural gas each day. This exposes a contradiction at the heart of the AI boom: A technology marketed as futuristic may deepen dependence on anachronistic fossil-fuel extraction and combustion.

Calling Project Matador an “advanced energy” campus does not erase the environmental consequences of its reliance on natural gas. Natural-gas production and combustion release greenhouse gases, including carbon dioxide and methane, as well as nitrogen oxides and other air pollutants from burning gas. Nitrogen oxides released through fossil-fuel combustion can also contribute to the formation of fine particulate matter, smog, and ground-level ozone. Nor does the prospect of adding solar or nuclear power in later phases cannot retroactively undo the environmental effects of the gas pipelines, gas-fired generating facilities, data centers, and other infrastructure being constructed now. Moreover, considering that the development of pipelines and power plants are durable investments, these may extend fossil-fuel dependence for decades.

The most urgent concern, however, may be water.

Project Matador is being built in a region heavily dependent on the Ogallala Aquifer, the foundation of agriculture, ranching, municipal life, and economic survival across much of the Great Plains.

Yet the Ogallala is being steadily depleted. In large portions of the Texas Panhandle and High Plains, water is being withdrawn far more rapidly than rainfall and natural recharge can replace it.

That makes every major new industrial claim on Panhandle water a matter of profound public importance. Water committed to data centers may no longer be available to farmers, ranchers, towns, ecosystems, or future generations. The question is not merely whether a corporation can afford to buy water. It is whether Texas should permit one of its most resource-intensive technological projects to expand in a region whose principal aquifer is already under severe strain.


The City of Amarillo approved an arrangement allowing Fermi America to purchase as much as 2.5 million gallons of municipal water per day at twice the standard rate. At the maximum level, that allocation alone would equal approximately 912.5 million gallons annually and more than 18 billion gallons over the initial 20-year term.

Yet this represents only part of the project’s potential supply. Fermi America has stated that it secured access to as much as 18.5 million gallons per day through a combination of municipal and private groundwater arrangements. At that upper limit, Project Matador would have access to approximately 6.75 billion gallons annually. Over 20 years, continuous use at that level would total approximately 135 billion gallons.

Access to 18.5 million gallons per day does not necessarily mean the completed project will consume that amount every day. Actual use will depend on the number and size of the data centers, cooling technologies, generating facilities, recycling systems, weather, and the pace of construction. Still, securing access to billions of gallons annually reveals the magnitude of the project’s anticipated water needs.

Fermi America says it will employ closed-loop cooling, recycle water, pay above-market rates, and finance infrastructure improvements. Those claims require independent verification. Closed-loop cooling can reduce withdrawals, but it does not make data centers water-free. Water is still lost through evaporation, cooling-tower blowdown, treatment, maintenance, and other industrial processes. Gas-fired and nuclear facilities will also require substantial water.

Paying more for water does not make it renewable. A higher price may generate municipal revenue, but it does not restore the Ogallala Aquifer. Money cannot quickly replenish groundwater accumulated over thousands of years.

The relevant question is not whether Fermi America can afford this water. It is whether the people of the Panhandle can afford the long-term consequences of surrendering so much of it.

Project Matador also raises serious questions about the role of public universities. The campus is being developed on land controlled by the Texas Tech University System under a 99-year ground lease. Texas Tech describes the partnership as an opportunity for research and workforce development.

Those possibilities should not be dismissed. The project may create construction work, technical employment, tax revenue, research partnerships, and investment in a region often overlooked by major development initiatives. But public benefit cannot simply be asserted. It must be demonstrated.

Texans deserve to know what risks Texas Tech has assumed, what tax abatements or infrastructure commitments support the project, and what protections exist if it is delayed, downsized, sold, or abandoned. They also deserve assurance that university researchers will remain free to independently study and publish findings on water use, pollution, labor conditions, nuclear safety, and community effects.

A public university should not serve merely as a landlord, workforce provider, branding partner, or source of legitimacy for private capital. Its first obligation is to the public.

The project’s employment claims also require scrutiny. Data centers employ large numbers of workers during construction but are highly automated once operational. The public needs independently verified estimates of permanent jobs, wages, local hiring, worker protections, and net public revenue after subsidies and tax abatements are considered.

The promise of four large nuclear reactors should likewise be treated cautiously. Such construction would involve extraordinary financial, engineering, regulatory, and logistical challenges. Communities should evaluate binding agreements and actual construction, not only promotional renderings of what may exist decades from now.

The final form of Project Matador may differ substantially from the sweeping vision now being marketed. In April 2026, Fermi announced that it was looking for a replacement for CEO Toby Neugebauer, the company’s co-founder and largest shareholder. The company’s interim leadership subsequently outlined a restructured strategy labeled “Fermi 2.0.” Neugebauer publicly urged the board to pursue an independent sale of the company and criticized the new direction, while Fermi disclosed a year-to-date net loss exceeding $486 million and confirmed that its first prospective anchor tenant had walked away from a construction-funding agreement. Given’s Fermi’s leadership upheaval and financial strain, regardless of the company’s intentions at the time of its commitments, it’s unclear what will survive the transition.

Beyond the environmental and economic questions lies a larger democratic one. We are increasingly told that artificial intelligence is inevitable and that communities must compete to host its infrastructure or be left behind. This conflates political choices with technological destiny and asks the public to accept nearly any expenditure of water, energy, land, and public resources in the name of AI.

But just because someone says something is inevitable doesn’t make it so, nor should it guide public policy.

Artificial intelligence may advance medicine, science, education, accessibility, and communication. It may also displace workers, intensify surveillance, reproduce discrimination, flood the information environment with synthetic content, and concentrate wealth and political power.

Before committing billions of gallons of water and city-scale quantities of electricity to AI infrastructure, Texans deserve to know what the computing capacity will be used for, who will control it, who will profit, and what enforceable public benefits will result.

Not every use of AI carries equal social value. Computing used for medical research or climate modeling cannot simply be equated with computing used to automate advertising, expand surveillance, replace workers, produce disposable content, or accelerate financial speculation. Yet all may draw from the same aquifer and impose costs on the same communities.

Project Matador should therefore be subject to independent water-impact studies, annual reporting of actual withdrawals and consumption, disclosure of cooling systems and recycling rates, aquifer monitoring, cumulative pollution assessments, drought-response requirements, disclosure of subsidies and tax incentives, and meaningful public participation.

The project must also be evaluated as a whole. A proposed 17-gigawatt campus should not be fragmented into separate permits for wells, pipelines, turbines, data halls, transmission lines, and nuclear facilities in ways that obscure its cumulative impact.

There must also be enforceable limits. During droughts or groundwater emergencies, household, agricultural, and community needs should take priority over nonessential computational demand.

Project Matador embodies a vision of ever-larger data centers, ever-greater computational capacity, and seemingly limitless technological growth. Yet it is being built in a region where water is finite and the Ogallala Aquifer is already declining.

That contradiction cannot be engineered away through corporate branding.

The issue is not whether one is simply for or against artificial intelligence. It is whether private technological ambition should be allowed to outrun democratic governance, environmental stewardship, and the rights of future generations.

The Ogallala Aquifer is not infinite. Natural gas is not clean merely because it powers computers instead of factories. Public land does not cease to be a public trust because it has been leased for nearly a century. And the promise of innovation does not relieve a corporation or public university of its obligation to demonstrate lasting public value.

Project Matador may become a monument to technological achievement. It could just as easily become a monument to an era that mistook computational power for wisdom, corporate scale for progress, and the ability to purchase water for the right to consume it.

Before Texas commits its water, energy, public land, and future to Project Matador, the people of the Panhandle—and the people of Texas—deserve transparency, independent science, enforceable protections, and a genuine democratic voice.

Authors

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

Professor of Educational Leadership and Policy at The University of Texas at Austin

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D., is Professor of Educational Leadership and Policy at The University of Texas at Austin. Although she has taught environmental policy, her primary scholarship centers on K–12 and higher education policy, with particular attention to educational equity, culture, language, and the politics of education. She earned her Ph.D. in sociology from Stanford University and is the author of the award-winning book Subtractive Schooling: U.S.-Mexican Youth and the Politics of Caring (1999).


Dr. Valenzuela is also the founder and author of Educational Equity, Politics, and Policy in Texas, which is regarded as one of the nation’s leading education reform blogs. She is a co-founder of Academia Cuauhtli, a partnership-based, community-anchored Saturday school with district-wide impacts across the Austin Independent School District, where she regularly mentors young people and advances culturally sustaining education.

She was named among the nation’s top 200 education scholars in the 2025 Edu-Scholar Public Influence Rankings and is a member of the National Academy of Education.



Luke Metzger

Executive Director, Environment Texas Research & Policy Center


As the executive director of Environment Texas, Luke is a leading voice in the state for clean air and water, parks and wildlife, and a livable climate. Luke recently led the successful campaign to get the Texas Legislature and voters to invest $1 billion to buy land for new state parks. He also helped win permanent protection for the Christmas Mountains of Big Bend; helped compel Exxon, Shell and Chevron Phillips to cut air pollution at four Texas refineries and chemical plants; and got the Austin and Houston school districts to install filters on water fountains to protect children from lead in drinking water. The San Antonio Current has called Luke "long one of the most energetic and dedicated defenders of environmental issues in the state." He has been named one of the "Top Lobbyists for Causes" by Capitol Inside and received the President's Award from the Texas Recreation and Parks Society for his work to protect Texas parks. He is a board member of the Clean Air Force of Central Texas and an advisory board member of the Texas Tech University Masters of Public Administration program. Luke, his wife, son and daughters are working to visit every state park in Texas.

Tuesday, June 23, 2026

Texas Is Legislating Growth on a Drying Planet—and the $174 Billion Bill for Texas’ Growth Machine Is Coming Due, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

Texas Is Legislating Growth on a Drying Planet—and the $174 Billion Bill for Texas’ Growth Machine Is 
Coming Due

by 

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

June 24, 2026

Chris Tomlinson’s recent column posted below, “Texas is running out of cheap water, and will need to make salty water sweet,” should land like an alarm bell across the state. His central point is simple and sobering: Texas is outgrowing its freshwater supply. Population growth, drought, fracking, semiconductor production, data centers, and the vast water needs of artificial intelligence are converging into a crisis that can no longer be deferred.

Link to PDF here
According to the Texas Water Development Board’s Draft 2027 State WaterPlan, implementing the recommended water management strategies is estimated to cost $174 billion, more than double the $81 billion estimated in the 2022 plan (Texas Water Development Board, 2026, p. 28). That number should stop us in our tracks. It tells us that the old bargain—grow endlessly, build endlessly, extract endlessly, and assume water will somehow be there—is breaking down.

Tomlinson rightly points to Corpus Christi as the canary in the coal mine. There, the city’s surface water supplies are running low, new groundwater wells have not delivered as hoped, and desalination remains expensive. 

Meanwhile, the endless drive to attract industry is increasingly ill advised, stretching the water supply beyond what residents can reasonably bear. The result is a familiar Texas pattern: public resources get promised to private growth, and ordinary people are left to pay the bill.

This is where the water crisis becomes more than an infrastructure problem. It is a democracy problem. Who gets to decide how much growth is too much? Who benefits from water-intensive development? Who pays when systems fail? Who is asked to conserve while industries expand? And whose communities are treated as sacrifice zones in the name of “economic development”?

These questions echo themes I have raised in other posts about the Hot Earth, climate disruption, and the extractive logic that governs so much of our public policy. Climate change is not some distant abstraction. It is arriving through heat, drought, flood, fire, migration, insurance costs, utility bills, and water scarcity. It is arriving through the quiet violence of unaffordability. It is arriving through the realization that the poor, the elderly, rural communities, and working families will be the first to experience what policymakers long treated as someone else’s future.

Tomlinson’s column is especially important because it pierces the illusion of cheapness. Texas has “run out of cheap water,” as Sen. Charles Perry put it. That statement deserves our full attention. Cheap water was never really cheap. It was subsidized by aquifers, rivers, ecosystems, Indigenous dispossession, rural extraction, underpriced infrastructure, and future generations who were never asked for consent. Now the bill is coming due.

Desalination may become part of the state’s water future, but it is not a magic wand. Making salty water sweet requires enormous energy. It also produces concentrated brine that must be handled carefully to avoid serious environmental harm. If desalination becomes another excuse for unrestrained growth, we will have learned nothing. We will simply be using more energy to solve the water crisis while worsening the climate crisis that intensifies drought in the first place.

The same concern applies to artificial intelligence and data centers. As I have written elsewhere in reflecting on AI and extraction, artificial intelligence is not weightless. It is not merely “in the cloud.” It is physical infrastructure: land, water, energy, minerals, labor, servers, cooling systems, and communities asked to absorb the costs. The language of innovation often hides the material reality of extraction. In Texas, that reality is becoming increasingly visible as rural communities confront large-scale data centers that demand huge amounts of water and electricity.

It is telling that even Texas Agriculture Commissioner Sid Miller has called for a moratorium on new data centers, warning that rural communities that have conserved water and land for generations are now being asked to compete with corporate giants whose demands could overwhelm local resources. 

That alone should widen the conversation beyond partisan politics. This is not simply a left-right issue; it is a question of stewardship, fairness, and whether Texas will protect the communities that have long sustained the state before handing scarce resources over to the highest bidder.

Water also forces us to rethink what we mean by prosperity. For too long, Texas leaders have equated growth with success. More highways. More subdivisions. More warehouses. More data centers. More fossil fuel extraction. More tax incentives. More ribbon cuttings. But growth without ecological limits is not prosperity. It is debt. It is risk. It is a form of policy denial.

And as with so many policy debates in Texas, inequality sits at the center. Wealthier households will absorb higher water rates more easily. Poor and working-class families will not. Rural communities may see their aquifers strained by development they did not invite. Colonias and historically underserved communities may face the worst infrastructure deficits. Urban residents may be told to conserve while industry receives favorable treatment. This is how environmental crisis becomes social crisis.

We should be deeply concerned that Texas is discussing water scarcity largely as an engineering challenge rather than a justice challenge. Pipes matter. Treatment plants matter. Desalination facilities may matter. But governance matters, too. Public voice matters. Conservation matters. Climate policy matters. Land-use planning matters. Accountability matters. Without these, water policy will reproduce the very inequities that brought us here.

The Legislature will have to confront this in 2027. But Texans should not wait for lawmakers to frame the issue for us. We need a broader public conversation now—one that includes educators, scientists, farmers, Indigenous communities, rural residents, environmental advocates, labor, students, and families already struggling with the cost of living.

Water is life. It is also memory, land, culture, food, health, and public trust. It is the connective tissue of ecology and democracy.

Texas can still choose a different path. We can invest in infrastructure, conservation, reuse, repair, and fair pricing. We can scrutinize water-intensive industries before granting them public support. We can protect communities from being overrun by extractive development. We can treat climate disruption as real rather than optional. We can insist that economic development serve the public good rather than private accumulation alone.

But we cannot keep pretending that endless growth is compatible with finite water.

Tomlinson’s column is a warning. Corpus Christi is a warning. The draft State Water Plan is a warning. The Hot Earth is warning us, too.

The question is whether Texas will listen before scarcity becomes policy, before crisis becomes normal, and before ordinary Texans are told—once again—that there is no alternative but to pay for decisions they did not make.

References

Texas Water Development Board. (2026). 2027 state water plan: Draft, phase 1. https://www.twdb.texas.gov/waterplanning/swp/2027/docs/DraftSWP27-Water-For-Texas.pdf

Tomlinson, C. (2026, May 21). Texas is running out of cheap water, and will need to make salty water sweet. Houston Chronicle. 

Texas faces a costly water crisis as growth, drought and industry outpace freshwater supplies statewide, writes columnist Chris Tomlinson.

By ,Columnist

Texas is outgrowing its freshwater supply.

Communities across the state need billions of gallons more water for growing populations and thirsty industries like oil and gas fracking, computer chip etching and artificial thinking. What happens this summer in Corpus Christi is a sign of what’s coming for all Texans.

The price of creating freshwater and keeping the economy growing will leave consumers with sticker shock, state lawmakers recently acknowledged. A draft of the 2027 State Water Plan says Texas will need to spend $174 billion to meet the water needs of the next 50 years — twice as much as lawmakers estimated just four years ago.


“The taxpayer is going to pay for this stuff one way or the other, be it property tax or be it fees, or be it insurance cost increases,” state Sen. Charles Perry, chairman of the Senate Water, Agriculture and Rural Affairs Committee, said during a hearing last week. “There is no free lunch here, or if they don’t pay, we end up with a Third World state.”


Inconvenient truths

Lawmakers will need to have “a big conversation” when they gather in Austin next year, Perry predicted. The level-headed Lubbock Republican is not prone to hyperbole or known for rhetorical flourish. When he speaks up, Texans best listen up.


Droughts and floods have complicated life in Texas for eons. The population and economy only began to grow once people started damming rivers and drilling into aquifers. But experts say those water sources are insufficient for a growing state.


Corpus Christi is the canary in our coal mine. The city’s surface water supplies are running low, new groundwater wells have disappointed, and citizens can’t afford to make seawater drinkable.

In the City Council’s drive to attract industry and bring in new jobs and revenue, it stretched the water supply too thin. Now that the inevitable drought has arrived, the council will likely declare an emergency and impose strict rationing.

Experts told the Senate committee on May 11 that while 57% of city-owned water utilities say they have long-term plans with sufficient funding, 10% have no plan, and 43% do not have enough money.

This year was the first time the State Water Implementation Fund for Texas fell short, capable of providing only $1.28 billion of the $4.2 billion that water utilities requested. The Legislature created the fund 11 years ago to help local authorities pay for water projects.

The Texas Water Development Board, which administers the fund, rejected the Nueces River Authority’s request for help financing a Corpus Christi desalination plant, claiming it had to prioritize other projects. 

Statewide, Texas doesn’t know where it will find 10 million to 12 million acre-feet of the 17 million the state will need over the next 50 years, Perry warned (an acre-foot is about 325,000 gallons). Making existing water treatment plants and pipelines more efficient will only meet 3% of the need.

“If I have to pick between spending all of my dollars on leaky pipes or all my dollars on supply, I will pick supply every day,” Perry said.

Water users will need a lot of dollars.

Well runs dry

Producing drinking water from ground or surface sources typically costs between $1.10 to $4.30 per 1,000 gallons, according to the Texas Comptroller’s Office. Desalination costs range from $7.50 to $11 per 1,000 gallons.

“Everyone in the audience is going to say, ‘That’s too much, that’s double what we’re paying,’” Perry said. “But that’s the cost of new water in Texas … we have run out of the cheap water.”

If Texans will pay those rates, utilities will deliver. Companies are working to permit three seawater desalination plants, with state officials anticipating seven plants along the coast over the next decade.

Arid nations around the world use desalination, but in addition to requiring a lot of energy, they produce a brine that is twice as salty as the water going in. If the waste stream isn’t handled properly, it can cause severe environmental problems.

Critics question the wisdom of trying to grow Texas beyond what its natural resources can sustain. Community activists want to prioritize residents’ quality of life over industrial development, and environmentalists want conservation over development.

Sid Miller, the Republican agriculture commissioner, called for a moratorium on data centers to conserve water.

“They draw massive volumes of water for cooling, even amid ongoing drought,” Miller wrote in a press release on Monday. “Rural communities that have conserved resources for generations now compete with corporate giants.”

Should a higher power grant South Texans' prayers and bring a week or more of steady rain, a heaven-sent storm will not solve the state’s long-term water shortage. We’ll still need to turn salty water sweet.

“We have a lot of poor people that aren’t going to be able to live in Texas much longer if we don’t figure this out, and there needs to be a sense of urgency about it,” Perry warned. “The status quo has to break.”

Award-winning opinion writer Chris Tomlinson writes commentary about money, politics and life in Texas. Sign up for his “Tomlinson’s Take” newsletter at houstonchronicle.com/tomlinsonnewsletter or expressnews.com/tomlinsonnewsletter.


Business Columnist

Chris Tomlinson writes commentary about money, politics and life in Texas for Hearst Newspapers. He can be reached at ctomlinson@hearstcorp.com.

In 2025, Tomlinson was inducted into the Texas Institute of Letters, an honor society that recognizes distinctive literary achievement. In 2021, the Texas Association of Managing Editors awarded him columnist of the year, and the Headliners Foundation named him Texas's Star Opinion Writer. He’s authored two New York Times Bestsellers, “Forget the Alamo: The Rise and Fall of an American Myth” and “Tomlinson Hill: The Remarkable Story of Two Families Who Share the Tomlinson Name - One White, One Black.”

Before joining the Houston Chronicle in 2014, he spent 20 years with The Associated Press reporting on politics, economics, conflicts and natural disasters from more than 30 countries in Africa, the Middle East and Europe.