A HostDime data center complex is viewed while under construction, Tuesday, June 23, 2026, in Eatonville, Fla. Mother Jones illustration; Phelan M. Ebenhack/AP
A few years after her husband died, Sandie Slowey moved from Pennsylvania to a mobile home in Hernando, a small town in rural Citrus County, Florida, known for its open green spaces and pristine spring waters. Down the road from her home was a horse ranch, and Slowey enjoyed the serenity of her quiet retirement from her job as a nurse—strolling on lush walking trails and sitting outside in the afternoons to hear the birds sing. On chilly evenings, she sleeps with her windows open.
In February, on Valentine’s Day, a neighbor told Slowey that the Deltona Corporation, a Florida real estate developer, planned to construct an 800-acre data center next to their neighborhood. Then in March, Slowey noticed the horses were gone. When she checked tax records, she discovered that Deltona had bought the property. It also bought another lot next door.
Slowey was outraged. Friends back in Pennsylvania, who now live near data centers, had warned her about the constant noise, and she worried that the incessant humming would pierce through the thin walls of her home. As one among dozens of residents who spoke up against the project, she said as much at a county planning and development commission meeting in March. She joined with other residents and decided to form No Data Center Citrus and organized a community meeting that attracted many residents, some of whom voiced their concerns at commission meetings. Their efforts worked. “We had two overflow rooms full, and they had to stop people at the door because there was no room,” Slowey recalled. County officials ultimately rejected Deltona’s proposal and approved a one-year moratorium on any data center projects.
The fight in Citrus County against data centers has played out in dozens of communities across Florida, and as residents in rural areas—already fed up with the encroachment of new development that has infiltrated much of the state in the last few years as its population has grown—feel threatened by the explosion of data center construction. As my colleague Sophie Hurwitz reported in May, there are at least 268 local opposition groups across 37 states. The local resistance against data centers “draws on a current of populism—and suspicion of big companies, and fear of AI-prompted job loss—that goes beyond party boundaries,” Hurwitz wrote this month.
Voters’ rage at these construction projects has extended into Florida’s politics and splintered the Republican base. Many of these Floridians, some of whom are lifelong Republicans, are not voting for US Representative Byron Donalds, the leading GOP candidate running for governor to succeed Gov. Ron DeSantis, during this week’s primary election. Donalds has openly supported the technology infrastructure, provided regulations were in place. As Politico reported, he’s also accepted millions in campaign contributions from data center developers. “I’m not anti-data center. I’m pro having a plan,” Donalds said in February, according to the Tampa Bay Times. “Data centers are going to be a function of American life going forward.”
Although polls show he will win the Republican nomination, the data center issue likely will discourage many GOP and independent voters from supporting him, even leading them to cast ballots for his opponents. Slowey, a registered Republican, will vote on Tuesday for Jay Collins, the current lieutenant governor, who has vowed to put Floridians first before data centers, calling for stringent guardrails around the facilities.
I spoke to other residents who say they will vote for Bobby Williams, a grassroots conservative and third-generation Florida native who opposes data centers. It is unlikely he’ll win, according to polls, but the fact that he has amassed support in many communities outside bustling metro areas is one more example of a nationwide trend of how once-loyal voters are fed up with the current GOP establishment that takes money from large corporations at the expense of local concerns.
“Most everybody that you talk to, everybody on Facebook, everybody that we talk to on the street, it’s all about the data centers.”
“Party labels are less important when it comes to our homes and way of life,” Slowey told me. “Everything for this election, for me, is based on the data centers at this point, and I think most everybody that you talk to, everybody on Facebook, everybody that we talk to on the street, it’s all about the data centers.”
If Donalds wins, come November’s general election, Slowey says she will throw her support behind David Jolly, the Democratic gubernatorial candidate. Jolly, a former Congressman who was once Republican, announced in July that he would enact a statewide moratorium on construction, citing environmental and economic concerns. Slowey suspects others in her community are making the same calculations.
This past week, I spoke with residents in several Florida counties that have dealt with the data center issue—Marion, Citrus, Escambia, Palm Beach, and Sarasota—and asked them how this topic is influencing their votes. Some registered Republicans told me they would not support Byron Donalds and instead vote for Williams or other candidates in the primary. Other voters, like Slowey, told me they will support Jolly in the general election.
Susan McManus, a seasoned political analyst in Florida, called the governor’s race a “bloody primary,” a term used to describe infighting within a political party during an election cycle. Eleven different Republican candidates are competing in the primary for governor.
The challenge for Republicans will be that in these red, rural areas, residents are hostile to data centers and to candidates—like Donalds—who openly support them. But the central question for Democrats will be if voters in these conservative, heavily Christian communities can get past the way that “socialist” has become affixed to Democratic candidates, she said. “Maybe they won’t vote for the Democrat,” McManus said of Republican voters in the general election, “but they’ll stay home, which is equally bad.”
The local government in the city of North Port, in Sarasota County, is grappling with the data center dilemma. Like much of the state, in recent years, the once sleepy town has now boomed into a city of nearly 100,000 with a younger population and lots of development. Robin San Vicente, an environmental and wildlife consultant, moved there in 1999 and has warily watched the growth. So when the city received an application for a data center construction project, San Vicente was among those who spoke out. Wearing a black tank top printed with the words NO DATA CENTERS, she told commissioners at a July 21 meeting, “It is extremely important that we take the time to accurately assess all of the data required to implement proper citywide protocols and guidelines in the name of public health and safety.”
Last month, she created the Facebook group, No Data Centers North Port FL, and in the last five weeks, it has attracted more than 900 members. They post news articles about data center moratoriums or videos of community meetings. Comments range from concerns about the data centers being close to wildlife preserve areas, the excess water usage, the thought of having a nuclear reactor, which many data centers use, in an area prone to hurricanes nearly six months out of the year. As one North Port resident wrote: “DO NOT VOTE for public officials who don’t put the residents of North Port FIRST.”
The North Port city commission is now considering an 18-month moratorium on data center projects. San Vicente, who is an independent voter, says she is considering David Jolly in the general election. “We don’t trust Byron at all. He is supported by Trump, and people are not trusting Trump anymore.” She added that many people had their eyes “opened” and realized that “what party you belong to doesn’t matter with this particular issue.”
In Citrus County, Slowey and the steering committee she’s a part of are now helping the commission draft ordinances to regulate any future data centers, including the regulation of water usage, as well as distance requirements from schools and churches. They hope the measures will be enacted before the one-year moratorium ends.
Still, the threat of a data center being erected in town lingers. Deltona, the developer, still owns the land close to Slowey’s home. “We won the battle,” she told me, “but we haven’t won the war.”