On November 3, voters in 10 states decided 41 local ballot measures on data centers, and they sided against the industry in all but one, and in Ohio, where more than half the measures were held, several passed with close to 80 percent support.
That result settles the policy question in those towns, but it does little to settle the people living in them. Data center fights have become some of the most heated local disputes in the US, and the stretch around a vote or a council decision is when that heat tends to turn personal. Officials, developers, and staff who now have to enforce a ban are all more visible than they were before.
Of the 41 measures, 28 were written to limit data center development, including 17 outright bans, and 13 were written to make development easier through rezoning or non-binding statements of support. Voters sided against data centers almost everywhere. The Washington Post counted at least 29 jurisdictions approving bans or restrictions, and Bloomberg put the night at 30 of 35 called measures going against the industry.
Ohio carried most of that weight, with 21 measures across 18 municipalities. Eleven towns passed bans, and the margins in several were lopsided:
The same pattern showed up outside Ohio. Voters in Bloomington, Illinois, and in Peru and Wiscasset, Maine, approved moratoriums, and nearly 80 percent of voters in Joliet Township, Illinois, backed restrictions.
One result stands out from a security perspective. In Piqua, Ohio, voters passed a data center ban and recalled three city commissioners on the same ballot. That makes it plain that residents now hold individual officials responsible for these projects, and the anger behind a recall carries on, election or not.
All results are unofficial until local election officials certify them. In Ohio, county boards have until November 24.
Where voters didn't get the final say, the tension played out at the council table. In Hermantown, Minnesota, just outside Duluth, the council was set to vote on a Google data center on roughly 200 acres on Monday, October 26. That meeting was called off after two hours of chanting and protest outside the chambers.
The council moved the vote to Friday, October 30, and capped in-person attendance at 85, with a virtual option for everyone else. After about four hours of public comment, councilors unanimously passed all six resolutions late that night. Opponents linked arms in the chambers earlier in the week, while supporters showed up in matching green shirts, so both sides arrived organized.
The approval leaves plenty unresolved. Three lawsuits are still pending, challenging the environmental review, the zoning process and the ownership of the land. Google also needs a wetland permit and state approval of its electric service agreement before construction can start. Meanwhile, three first-time candidates ran for two open council seats largely on the data center issue. Each step is another public decision point, and each can bring the same crowd back.
The record from the past year shows that threats cluster around meetings, votes and approvals. A CNN review of more than 100 police reports found roughly 70 involving alleged threats, intimidation or planned attacks tied to data center opposition. Those included more than a dozen bomb threats at construction sites in Iowa, Maryland, Utah and Virginia, with Loudoun County, Virginia alone logging at least nine in under a year.
Threats against officials have followed the same calendar. In Salix, Iowa, a council meeting set to vote on a one-year moratorium was postponed after death threats and what the mayor called terrorist threats. Emporia, Kansas, moved two commission meetings online and dropped public comment after its leaders were threatened. In Indianapolis, shots were fired at a city councilor's home, and a "NO DATA CENTERS" note was found outside.
The Marshall, Michigan case matters most for this week. Its council passed the moratorium opponents had asked for, and ten days later police told members they were the subject of a credible death threat tied to the project. Officials are being threatened whichever way they vote, so a ban passing does not mean the risk has passed.
The pressure is also wearing on the people who run local government. In Saline Township, Michigan, the treasurer resigned at a public meeting, citing threats over a data center being built there. Online, the Soufan Center found hundreds of posts with threat language between July 2025 and July 2026, with a surge beginning in April that had not receded.
The next few months will bring a steady run of follow-on decisions, and each one gives an angry audience a date and a place to show up. Several are already in motion:
Beyond these dates, data centers are now the local face of a national argument about AI over power, water, jobs and local control. That anger reaches anyone connected to the build-out, from developers and utilities to the tech companies and executives behind them. US security teams that treat AI as a standing risk category, with ongoing threat monitoring, will see the next flashpoint coming sooner than teams that react town by town.