As AI companies race to build the infrastructure powering the next generation of technology, data centers are proliferating across the country—increasingly landing in, or even being courted by, rural communities that have little experience dealing with large-scale industrial development, and even less warning when a project arrives.
One such project is reportedly bearing down on a 15-acre property in Muscogee County, GA.
The land has been in Debbie Jackson’s husband’s family since the mid-1800s and holds a cemetery with 22 graves. It sits less than two miles from the proposed footprint of Project Ruby—a $5.18 billion, 650-megawatt hyperscale data center being developed by Habitat Real Estate Partners.
Jackson learned about the project in February. Since then, she has been weighing concerns about fire safety, noise, light pollution, water contamination, and what the development might do to her property value.
“It’s all very up in the air,” she told the Columbus Ledger-Enquirer.
For homeowners in her position, the hard truth is that options narrow significantly once a project is approved.
When a large development like a data center gets proposed near your home, the instinct is often to wait and see. But by the time a project clears the permitting process, the window for intervention is largely closed.
“If the local municipality process for approval has been followed and completed, the best opportunity for challenging the data center has passed,” says Howard Jacobson, chief operating officer at Stronglast Builders.
That process—zoning hearings, special use permits, land development plans—is the primary arena where citizens can obtain information and formally object.
Once a project clears that hurdle, a neighbor’s remaining options are largely limited to litigation, which Jacobson described as expensive and rarely successful when the developer and municipality have followed proper procedure.
“A judge may temporarily delay implementation of an approved land use to allow the litigants to present their cases,” Jacobson says, “but local municipality land-use decisions generally are difficult to reverse.”
Litigation can, however, create enough public pressure to push a developer toward modest concessions—like expanded buffer zones or additional noise mitigation—even if it can’t stop a project outright.
In Jackson’s case, the local planning commission already voted 5-1 to expand Project Ruby’s proposed buffer from 75 feet to 500 feet, though Jackson considers that insufficient, according to her Columbus Ledger-Enquirer interview.
One notable exception: If a development involves federal funding, residents may have more pathways.
“When the development is funded with private money, the studies and assessments are bypassed—with federal money, you can litigate,” says Jillian Hishaw, an agricultural and land-use attorney and author of “Systematic Land Theft.”
But even that route has gotten harder. A 2025 executive order, Hishaw notes, now “allows the feds to bypass all federal environmental assessments.”
For many homeowners, the more immediate concern isn’t legal—it’s financial. What does a massive industrial neighbor do to your home’s value?
The honest answer right now is: Nobody knows for certain, because the data center boom is too recent for clear patterns to emerge.
Hishaw, who has spent 13 years providing legal services to rural landowners through her nonprofit, says she predicts values near these facilities will decline over time—particularly as the cumulative effects on natural resources, water, and land use become clearer.
“It is too early to tell,” she says, “but I predict in a few years, it will drive the value of the land down because there will be no more natural resources to farm or live on.”
According to the Columbus Ledger-Enquirer, Jackson herself is already weighing whether to stay or sell—a calculus complicated by an $800 monthly mortgage that won’t be paid off until 2044, and her belief that the data center would push her property value down regardless.
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For homeowners trying to assess their own exposure, the most relevant comparison may be other large industrial or utility neighbors—power plants, distribution centers, cell towers—which have documented histories of affecting adjacent residential values, generally negatively, and generally more severely the closer the proximity.
If you live in an area where data center development is expanding—which increasingly means rural communities across the South and Midwest, including Georgia, Texas, and Ohio—the time to act is before a project enters the permitting process.
The first and most important step is monitoring local zoning meetings. Most land-use battles are won or lost at the municipal level, before most residents even know a project is being proposed. Sign up for alerts from your county planning and zoning board and show up.
“The zoning process is the primary means by which citizens can obtain information about and challenge any rezoning, special-use permit, or land-development plan,” Jacobson says.
It also pays to know what’s on your land before a developer comes knocking. Jackson’s situation is complicated by a historic family cemetery and what she believes may be unmarked Indigenous graves.
Hishaw advises that homeowners in similar situations request an archaeological survey before permits are approved, and reach out to the state historic preservation office—and, if Indigenous remains may be present, the Bureau of Indian Affairs and the relevant tribal historic preservation office.
If the land is recognized as sacred and part of the national registry, Hishaw notes, it could become a legitimate obstacle for the developer.
FOIA requests are another underused tool. Public records can reveal what environmental assessments were completed and whether the developer received any waivers. With privately funded projects, Hishaw says, those studies are frequently bypassed, meaning neighbors may not have the full picture of what was reviewed.
Finally, don’t go it alone. Hishaw is currently finalizing a model policy document that landowners can use as a guide when attending planning and zoning meetings—a sign of how widespread this issue is becoming. “It is an epidemic at this point,” she says.
For Debbie Jackson, options are constrained. The project hasn’t been finally approved, which means there is still a public process to engage. But the window for meaningful intervention gets smaller with each procedural step.
For everyone else watching the data-center boom expand toward their communities: The lesson from Jackson’s situation isn’t that neighbors are powerless, but that power is time-sensitive. The homeowners who fare best in these situations are the ones who show up to the first meeting—not the one after permits are signed.
