From the beginning of American progress, every leap forward has sparked resistance. The stagecoach gave way to the railroad. Farmers saw their landscapes transformed by factories. Steel mills and coal plants built our cities but blackened our skies. Then came the car, the highway system, and the industrial boom that powered a middle class and redefined prosperity. Now, in the 21st century, the engine of the modern economy is no longer made of iron and smoke—but of silicon and light. Data centers and artificial intelligence are today’s railroads, and they’re facing the same backlash that every disruptive force in history has endured.

But let’s be honest: the driver of this transformation isn’t some faceless corporation or foreign entity—it’s us. Every one of us. From the moment we wake up, we’re surrounded by the results of our own consumption: the mattress we sleep on, the toothbrush in the bathroom, the soap and shampoo in the shower. We watch the morning news on a TV powered by a grid we constantly strain, while shaking our heads about the climate change we help accelerate.

And this was before the digital explosion—before the BlackBerry, the iPhone, the iPad, before every moment of our lives required a cloud connection. Now we stream our music, our meetings, and our memories, all hosted in vast data centers we can’t see and barely understand, yet depend on completely.

For decades, consumer demand and globalization have reshaped our energy grid and manufacturing base. We outsourced production for cheaper goods, cheaper parts, and cheaper labor. Chips from Taiwan, plastics from China, textiles from everywhere. The result? A fragile global supply chain, an aging utility grid, and a growing realization that our dependence on foreign production has become a national security risk.

Rebuilding that strength—onshoring manufacturing, modernizing the grid, and regaining control of our economic destiny—requires power. Literal, physical power. Nuclear, solar, wind, and yes, natural gas. It requires data centers, chip fabs, and advanced industrial infrastructure. But the moment we try to build those things, the chorus rises again: Not in my backyard.

We don’t want the mines, the plants, or the substations near our neighborhoods, even as we order another device, open another app, or binge another show. We object to the power plant, but not to the power. We condemn data centers while demanding infinite access to the data they serve.

It’s easy to point fingers at industry—but we must also look in the mirror. Every hospital filled with sterile plastic equipment, every MRI, every lifesaving tool runs on petroleum-based materials and energy-intensive systems. And we want it all—cleaner, faster, safer, cheaper. The hypocrisy is uncomfortable but undeniable.

The truth is, artificial intelligence and data infrastructure are not the enemies of sustainability—they’re essential to it. Smart grids, efficient logistics, precision manufacturing, personalized healthcare—all of it depends on computing power. The question isn’t whether we should build data centers, but how we build them. Can we make them cleaner, safer, more efficient? Of course. But stopping progress altogether is not an option.

This fear of technological expansion—rooted in misinformation, nostalgia, or politics—has clouded rational conversation. We need less noise and more nuance. The goal isn’t to bulldoze over environmental concerns, but to acknowledge that progress, when done responsibly, can be both sustainable and essential to human advancement.

We can and will do better. America has always figured out how to build smarter, cleaner, stronger industries. The path forward is not denial—it’s design. It’s innovation. It’s leadership.

Is AI scary? Yes. Can we stop it? No. Are we the ones driving the demand for it? Absolutely. The choice before us is whether we let fear stall us, or whether we guide this next industrial revolution with intelligence and integrity.

Progress is not the enemy. Ignorance is. And stopping progress—pretending we can live without the very systems that define modern life—would be nothing less than societal suicide.