The Battle Over Vizag’s Data Centers: A Question of Priorities

In a striking development that has captured public attention across Andhra Pradesh, the Human Rights Forum (HRF) has firmly pushed back against IT Minister Nara Lokesh’s assurances about the massive AI data center projects planned for Visakhapatnam. What began as a routine assembly statement has evolved into a deeper confrontation about the region’s environmental future, water security, and whether the government’s promises hold up under scrutiny. On August 19, the minister had dismissed growing public concern as “deliberate misinformation,” defending the projects’ environmental credentials and resource requirements. But just two days later, the HRF responded with a detailed critique that raises fundamental questions about how these projects were approved, what they truly mean for local communities, and whether the government’s account of their impact can be trustedweeney. At the heart of this dispute lies a deeper tension: how to balance the promise of technological progress against the preservation of natural resources that sustain everyday life for millions of people.

The environmental concerns raised by the HRF strike at the very core of the government’s claims. The organization pointedly asks how environmental responsibility can be taken seriously when a hyperscale AI data center is being established virtually within the catchment of Mudasarlova reservoir, a crucial source of drinking water for Visakhapatnam’s residents. The Google-Adani 512 MW project at Adavivaram sits barely 120 meters from this vital water source, and the HRF’s question is stark: should such a massive industrial installation be located within a drinking water reservoir’s catchment area in the first place? Even more troubling, the HRF documents that site development at Adavivaram began as early as February 2026, months before environmental clearance was actually granted. This timeline suggests that decisions were made and actions taken before proper environmental scrutiny could occur. The same pattern appears at Tarluvada in Anandapuram mandal, where extensive hill cutting is taking place in the Pedda Chukka Konda reserve forest area, affecting streams and natural drainage that feed downstream water systems including the Gambheeram reservoir. The HRF emphasizes that these are not hypothetical or future impacts—the landscape is being fundamentally altered right now, with large-scale clearing of natural vegetation also accompanying development at Rambilli in Anakapalle district. Perhaps most significantly, all these projects have been processed under Category B2, allowing them to avoid the full Environmental Impact Assessment and public-hearing process that would normally apply to projects of such extraordinary scale.

The water question reveals what appears to be a troubling inconsistency in the government’s own account of these projects’ requirements. The IT Minister now claims that the 6.5-GW ecosystem will require 3 TMC of water annually, to be supplied from the industrial allocation of the Polavaram Project through dedicated pipelines. Yet this figure differs dramatically from what the government has said before—the minister himself had earlier spoken of “only 1 TMC,” while Chief Minister Chandrababu Naidu quoted a 3.5 TMC figure just days earlier. The HRF correctly points out that this is not a semantic disagreement or a rounding error. One TMC represents approximately 28.3 billion liters, so the difference between 3 and 3.5 TMC amounts to about 14.2 billion liters per year. This is an enormous quantity of water in a Visakhapatnam that already faces water stress, with existing demand exceeding present supply. The HRF asks pointed questions that remain unanswered: How much of Polavaram’s “industrial allocation” has been formally earmarked for these data centers? From which existing allocation will it be diverted? What priority will this use enjoy over agriculture, drinking water, and existing industries? And perhaps most fundamentally, the mere fact that large quantities of Godavari water eventually flows into the sea does not establish that such water is freely available for industrial allocation. The organization’s observation cuts to the heart of the matter—telling citizens their water is safe because data centers will receive water through separate pipelines confuses plumbing with politics. Every TMC allocated to one use represents a TMC whose availability and priority must be weighed against competing uses, and the government must disclose the assured water allocation, existing commitments, drought-year availability, and the full public cost of supplying these projects.

The electricity consumption of these facilities raises equally pressing questions about fairness and environmental impact. The HRF notes that hyperscale data centers are not just another industry—they are enormous electricity-consuming facilities operating around the clock, and the government has created special arrangements to accommodate them through the Deemed Distribution Licence. The organization asks a pointed question: why should an industry consuming power on such an extraordinary scale be allowed to operate under a special distribution framework while ordinary consumers and farmers remain bound by existing regulatory frameworks? The government’s claim that operators will source at least 70 percent of their electricity from clean energy also fails to provide complete reassurance. Solar and wind projects require vast amounts of land, transmission infrastructure, and materials. Pumped Storage Projects require large dams, many of which are proposed for the ecologically sensitive Agency region of the Eastern Ghats. And the remaining 30 percent of power still has to come from somewhere. The environmental costs of generating and transmitting electricity cannot simply be erased by labeling it “green.” The HRF also draws attention to what it calls the “dirty data” label increasingly applied to such facilities around the world, pointing to the Kambalakonda Wildlife Sanctuary being increasingly hemmed in by these data centers. Each project is being assessed in isolation, but the government is talking about a 6.5-GW data-center ecosystem—the cumulative impacts on water, forests, hills, wildlife, electricity, land, and infrastructure cannot be ignored simply because each individual project might appear manageable on its own.

The employment argument, which has been central to the government’s justification for these projects, also comes under scrutiny. The minister has effectively acknowledged that the principal employment generation is expected not from the data centers themselves but from a “wider ecosystem” of cooling equipment, optical fiber, AI firms, power electronics, logistics, warehousing, and other ancillary businesses. The HRF argues that construction employment, indirect employment, and projected future ecosystem employment cannot simply be presented as permanent direct jobs created by hyperscale AI data centers. The government must clearly specify the number of permanent direct jobs at each facility, the number of skilled jobs, the local employment component, and the contractual commitments made by the companies. Without such specifics, spectacular job numbers risk becoming little more than investment propaganda. The organization also raises the fundamental question of who ultimately benefits from these projects. The state is committing enormous quantities of land, water, and electricity, along with transmission infrastructure, connectivity, subsidies, and public administrative support. Yet the principal users and beneficiaries will ultimately be some of the world’s largest technology corporations. The public has a right to know what exactly Andhra Pradesh is receiving in return—what concessions have been granted, what public infrastructure is being created at public expense, what enforceable obligations the companies have undertaken, and what proportion of the economic value generated will remain in the state.

Perhaps most striking is the contrast the HRF draws between the government’s eagerness to facilitate these projects and its neglect of existing commitments to the region’s people. The Babu Jagjivan Ram Uttarandhra Sujala Sravanthi project, a critical lifeline for North Andhra’s water security, has remained largely stalled for years, with just 2 percent physical progress according to the government’s own socio-economic survey. Originally conceived to provide drinking and industrial water for around 1,200 villages and 30 lakh people, this project carries enormous social promise for water in agriculture, drinking water, and broader water security. A government that has failed to deliver this long-promised lifeline cannot credibly invoke the welfare of the same people to justify water and resource-intensive projects whose principal beneficiaries will be large technology corporations. The HRF notes that even when information was sought under the Right to Information Act, the government’s responses have been marked by evasiveness rather than transparency, with frequent recourse to claims of confidentiality and non-disclosure agreements. There have also been sustained attempts to suppress criticism on social media and restrict online content. The organization’s conclusion is direct: a government cannot claim to act in the public interest while keeping the public in the dark. If the government is genuinely confident that these data centers are environmentally sustainable, water-secure, power-efficient, and employment-generating, it should immediately place in the public domain the complete environmental assessments, cumulative-impact studies, water allocations, power requirements, public infrastructure costs, employment commitments, and all concessions extended to the companies. The people of Visakhapatnam and North Andhra deserve convincing answers, not accusations of misinformation.

At the heart of this conflict lies a fundamental question about what kind of development Andhra Pradesh truly needs and who should bear the costs of technological progress. The HRF’s opposition is not to technological investment itself, but to the proposition that such investment should proceed without transparent assessment of its social, ecological, and economic costs. Environmental responsibility cannot mean destroying a catchment first and defending the clearance later. Water security cannot mean changing the government’s own figures from 1 TMC to 3.5 TMC to 3 TMC. Green energy cannot mean ignoring the enormous power and infrastructure footprint of hyperscale computing. Employment cannot mean converting construction and hypothetical ecosystem jobs into permanent employment statistics. The scale of these projects demands full disclosure, independent scrutiny, and public debate, not secrecy and fait accompli. The people of Visakhapatnam, who will live with the consequences of these decisions for generations, deserve nothing less than complete honesty about what is being committed in their name. Whether the government will rise to this challenge or continue to dismiss legitimate concerns as misinformation remains to be seen, but the HRF’s insistence on accountability has ensured that these crucial questions cannot simply be ignored away. The future of Visakhapatnam’s environment, its water security, and the well-being of its people may depend on whether these questions receive the serious consideration they deserve.