The industry should resist the victory lap—this close call signals a deeper problem it can’t ignore.
By Adam Waitkunas
When Janet Mills vetoed Maine’s proposed data center moratorium, much of the industry exhaled. Some even celebrated. That reaction misses the point entirely. What happened in Maine wasn’t a win—it was a warning shot.
A Veto Isn’t a Green Light
The bill itself—LD 307—would have made Maine the first state in the country to impose a sweeping pause on large-scale data center development. That alone should give the industry pause. It wasn’t a fringe proposal. It passed the legislature. It had bipartisan support. And it reflected something deeper that is now playing out across the country: a growing lack of trust between communities and the digital infrastructure industry.
Governor Mills didn’t outright reject the premise of a moratorium. In fact, she acknowledged that a pause was “appropriate” given the impacts seen in other states. Her veto came down to one issue—the bill failed to carve out an exemption for a specific project in Jay that had strong local support. That nuance matters. This wasn’t a philosophical rejection of regulation. It was a surgical decision tied to one project. And at the same time, she signaled that further study, oversight, and coordination around data centers is coming.
In other words, the scrutiny isn’t going away. It’s accelerating.
Why Maine Actually Matters
As a summer resident of Maine, I’ve seen firsthand the “two Maines” dynamic: prosperity clustered around Portland, while large swaths of the state, particularly in rural counties, continue to struggle with higher unemployment, seasonal work, and limited economic opportunity. Communities like Jay, still reeling from the closure of legacy industrial employers, aren’t debating theoretical impacts; they’re weighing real opportunities for reinvestment and job creation. The proposed redevelopment of a former paper mill into a data center—hundreds of construction jobs, permanent positions, and meaningful tax revenue—is exactly the kind of project these regions rarely see anymore.
And yet, despite that context, the industry nearly lost the narrative entirely.
That’s the real story here.
This Isn’t Just Maine
Because what played out in Maine is no longer isolated. It’s part of a much larger shift happening across the country—one that the industry is still underestimating. In Illinois, Morgan County approved a temporary moratorium to study impacts before development proceeds. In Wisconsin, Manitowoc County is considering a similar pause after mounting pressure from local communities. In North Carolina, opposition is organizing earlier and more aggressively across key growth markets. And in Missouri, backlash over a single project escalated to the point of unseating elected officials.
Zoom out further, and the pattern becomes even clearer. Lawmakers across multiple states—from New Hampshire and New York to Georgia and South Carolina—are exploring restrictions, conditional approvals, or outright pauses. More than a dozen states are now actively debating how, or whether, to slow data center expansion. At the same time, billions of dollars in projects have already been delayed or blocked as local opposition gains traction.
That doesn’t happen in a vacuum.
The Industry’s Messaging Gap
It happens when an industry consistently shows up too late, communicates too little, and assumes its value proposition is self-evident. It isn’t. Not anymore.
The industry tends to frame opposition around energy, water, and land use—and those concerns are real—but what’s increasingly driving outcomes is something more fundamental: trust. Or more accurately, the lack of it. Communities are reacting not just to what is being proposed, but how it’s being introduced. Closed-door negotiations, heavy reliance on NDAs, technical jargon, and a lack of early engagement are all feeding a perception that something is being done to communities rather than with them.
And that perception is proving far more powerful than any economic impact study.
What’s changed—and what the industry still hasn’t fully grasped—is that the entitlement process is no longer controlled solely by municipal officials. Residents, local advocacy groups, and informal coalitions now play an outsized role in shaping outcomes. They are organizing earlier, faster, and more effectively. They are learning from each other across markets. And once a narrative hardens—whether accurate or not—it is extraordinarily difficult to reverse.
That’s how you end up with a moratorium bill in Maine that nearly becomes law.
A National Education Problem—Not Just a Local One
At its core, this is no longer just a transparency issue. It’s an education problem—and it’s happening at scale.
The industry is asking local communities to understand highly complex issues—grid interconnection, load growth, water usage, economic tradeoffs—without giving them the tools, context, or trusted voices to do so. Into that vacuum step opposition groups, who are often more coordinated, more accessible, and more effective at simplifying the narrative.
That imbalance is growing.
Which is why the industry needs to think beyond project-by-project communications and start investing in something much bigger: a coordinated, third-party, national education effort.
Not a marketing campaign. Not a trade association white paper.
A credible, independent platform that can:
- Engage national and local media markets
- Conduct proactive press tours across key regions
- Translate complex infrastructure issues into an accessible language
- Address energy, water, and economic concerns head-on
- Dispel misinformation before it hardens into public belief
Developers advocating for themselves is no longer sufficient. In today’s environment, it’s often viewed with skepticism. What’s needed is a trusted intermediary—one that can meet communities where they are and reshape the narrative before projects become flashpoints.
Without that, the industry will continue to fight uphill, one market at a time.
The Risk Ahead
There’s a tendency to treat moments like Maine as isolated battles—win the permit, stop the bill, move on.
That approach is outdated.
What’s happening now is cumulative. Each poorly handled project doesn’t just create local opposition—it fuels a broader narrative that travels. Lawmakers, activists, and communities are increasingly borrowing from one another. The same concerns, the same language, the same playbooks are showing up across states.
And unless the industry recalibrates, that narrative will only continue to harden.
No Time for a Victory Lap
Many will look at Governor Mills’ veto and see a victory.
They shouldn’t.
She made it clear that some form of moratorium still makes sense. The legislature made it clear there is a broad appetite for restrictions. And across the country, similar efforts are gaining momentum, not fading.
This is no time for the industry to rest.
If anything, it’s the moment to recognize that the ground has shifted—and that success going forward will depend far less on what gets built, and far more on how it’s introduced.
Because the next version of this bill—in Maine or elsewhere—may not be vetoed.
Maine Data Center – Maine Data Center Moratorium – Maine Economy – Rural Maine – Maine Data Center – Governor Janet Mills – Adam Waitkunas – Data Center Community Relations – Data Center Community Engagement
