“I’m not very familiar with the subject; it’s a bit of a secret,” the pharmacist says. “You’re the one telling me about it!” adds a surprised local resident. Ten kilometers southeast of Châteauroux, the small town of Étrechet, with barely 1,000 residents, is slowly learning about an industrial project landing on its doorstep: the construction of an huge new data center by Google.

The scarce public information comes from the council meeting of June 23, 2025, which was covered by local media. The project is to be located in the Ozans Joint Development Zone (ZAC), adjacent to Étrechet, where there are 500 hectares of available land. Google, through its subsidiary Tricolore Computing— owned through an Ireland-based holding company—plans to acquire 195 hectares there, the equivalent of 273 soccer fields, for a reported €58.5 million.

The company confirmed that it was exploring “the possibility of acquiring land in Châteauroux in preparation for the potential expansion of our cloud infrastructure and data centers in France.” Among dozens of new projects of this type currently under development in France [1], this one is shaping up to be one of the largest, requiring more than 500 MW of electrical power.

This would be the first data center operated directly by Google on French soil. Today, when you use the search engine, send an email via Gmail, or consult Google Maps, your data is routed to so-called colocation data centers, hosted by third-party cloud operators such as Equinix in the Paris region or Digital Realty in Marseille.

At the local level, the only information available comes from Gil Avérous, president of the metropolitan area and mayor of Châteauroux, who is running for reelection in the municipal elections on March 15 and 22, 2026. He is a former member of conservative party Les Républicains, which he left in 2023. He also served for a few months as Minister of Sports, Youth, and Community Life in the Barnier government. The Google data center was not a campaign issue, strictly speaking, compared to priorities like health and safety. Nonetheless, it is included in the section on economic development in Gil Avérous’ electoral platform. Yet, on the streets of Étrechet, no one seems to be truly aware of the situation. “We have some information, but we’re not revealing anything as the municipal elections approach,” explains a resident handing out campaign brochures.

Local influence

Officially, nothing has been finalized. Google is expected to give its final answer in June 2026, after further studies. The multinational corporation says that “the project is still in the very early stages, so there are no concrete details regarding the timeline, the technologies to be used (in particular cooling systems), or energy sources.” Which is surprising given the expected size of the project and the announced investment.

In the meantime, the US company is rolling out a strategy to build regional influence, ramping up local initiatives and promises of economic benefits. Google France started in 2024 with the creation of the “AI Academy,” a training program for local elected officials, in partnership with the organisation Villes de France. This group represents medium-sized cities with populations between 10,000 and 100,000 and their inter-municipal councils and its chairman is no other than Gil Avérous. According to our sources, the Châteauroux University Institute of Technology has already been tasked with creating a program designed to train future employees of the data center, which is scheduled to open at the start of the next academic year.

For Ophélie Coelho, an associate researcher at IRIS and author of Geopolitics of the Digital Age (L’Atelier, 2025, in French), such initiatives constitute “industrial diplomacy on the ground.” Their goal is to establish their presence early on, even before construction begins. “They reach out to local stakeholders and stage their positive contribution to society: that’s their strategy,” she explains.
“Then Google asks the National Commission for Public Debate to organize public consultations.” But these processes remain tightly controlled: “The discourse is extremely formal, the few dissenters are given very little time, and above all, these discussions have no impact on the final decision.”

Tech-Friendliness

In Châteauroux, digital technology has long been the central political focus of the municipal administration. A former national delegate for the digital economy under President Nicolas Sarkozy, Gil Avérous has made technology the backbone of his action—and, above all, his communication strategy with near-daily posts on Facebook and Instagram, polished videos, and carefully crafted storytelling. The latest accolade: the national label “Villes Internet” (Internet Cities) was awarded to Châteauroux.

A number of local elected officials follow this tech-friendly vision. A few kilometers from Étrechet, in Buzançais, the Val-de-l’Indre urban community sold 10 hectares, divided into six plots, to Decknet so it could build a data center there, scheduled to open in 2027. Economist Nicolas Bouzou, founder of the firm Asterès, was commissioned by the Prefecture and the Deparmental Council to think up a revitalization plan for the region dubbed “Indre 2030”, which evokes a future of data centers, gigafactories, and fleets of robotaxis. Bouzou was mentioned in the international investigation into the “Uber Files” revealed by Le Monde. The American platform had commissioned him “to conduct customized studies and defend its interests in the media." The department’s prefect, Thibault Lanxade, also appears to be a strong supporter of this strategy: "Autonomous vehicles represent real opportunities to be seized," he told ICI Berry regarding the Indre 2030 plan. Prior to his appointment by the government in 2023, he led the Luminess Group, which specializes in the digitization and digital transformation of organizations.

For Jean Delavergne, co-secretary of the local section of the Green Party, this digital rollout is made possible by “the feudal way in which Gil Avérous manages the region.” The political opposition denounces “a technocratic approach” blind to social and environmental realities. As for Gil Avérous, who who is known for his violent attacks on opponents—whom he describes, according to several sources, as “eco-terrorists”—he did not respond to our requests for comment.

"Next time, it’ll be SpaceX"

The Ozans area, where Google’s data center is set to be built, is one of 26 “turnkey” sites— « ready-to-develop » plots of land with administrative streamlining to facilitate the rapid arrival of projects—announced by the government at the 2025 AI Summit. But the history of this industrial wasteland is marked by many industrial schemes that have come to nothing. As early as 2012, nearly 500 hectares of farmland were acquired to accommodate a project led by a Chinese investor promising 5,000 new jobs, spearheaded by former mayor Jean-François Mayet. The project never came to fruition.

Seven years later, a data center project led by Green Challenge, a subsidiary of the Dutch group Mados, with a budget of 700 million euros, met the same fate. “Next time, it’ll be SpaceX,” quips Éric Domenge-Abeau, the lead candidate for the Left coalition in Châteauroux. This is a direct reference to 2016, when the mayor released a video—dubbed in English—inviting Tesla to set up shop in the Ozans commercial zone. The video addresses Tesla’s CEO directly: “Hello Elon, I’m Gil Avérous and my ambition is to convince you to come here!” His 3-minute-40-second video, set to cheerful music, highlights the economic appeal of the metropolitan area and ends with this message: “Welcome Tesla, welcome to Châteauroux.”

Today, despite road preparations, the area remains virtually empty, except for a building owned by Soprema Steel, a manufacturer specialized in metal structures. On the ground, skepticism prevails. “This has been going on for years. We’ll believe in the projects when they actually happen,” says a local resident, resigned. Emmanuel de Saint Pol, a farmer whose land was expropriated in 2012, now farms his former land on a lease. “Does it make me angry? No. I’m mostly just tired of it. Now, nobody cares. Why? I don’t know. Maybe we’ve lost our energy.”

An environmental activist points out the local economic context: “The region was marked by the departure of U.S. forces from the NATO base in the 1960s and by the gradual weakening of its industrial base. There is a strong desire for a transformative project.” In search of industrial renewal, the municipal administration sticks to its strategy of attracting investments. For Gil Avérous, as he puts it in his platform, Google’s arrival represents “a historic opportunity,” and he promises: “You must be the ones to reap the benefits.”

"It will be difficult to demonstrate the project’s social value"

However, there is reason for caution. According to a report by the Seine-Saint-Denis Local Energy and Climate Agency, data centers generate on average one job per 10,000 m². When applied to the announced 195 hectares (or 1.95 million m²), this ratio corresponds to approximately 200 direct jobs. A small figure compared to the 273 soccer fields of land involved. For the collective Le Nuage était sous nos pieds, these jobs are created primarily through subcontracting: “Few companies create real jobs. It will be difficult to demonstrate the social value of the project.”

The project comes with another promise: the recovery of so-called “waste heat,” heat generated by IT equipment that runs ceaselessly. In Seine-Saint-Denis, this argument was presented as a lever to facilitate acceptance among residents, with the plan of connecting data centers to the heating systems of public housing and facilities such as swimming pools. However, in Étrechet, feasibility is a big issue. The 10 km distance from Châteauroux would make energy transfer costly and inefficient, due to transmission losses and the need for additional infrastructure. One expert, who wished to remain anonymous, estimates that “only a fraction—about one-third—of this heat could be recovered, which is largely insufficient.”

Beyond these questions, one obstacle holds the entire project back: the electrical power supply. The region currently lacks the capacity to power such infrastructure. Existing high-voltage lines are already at capacity, forcing RTE, the grid operator, to completely reorganise the electrical grid in the department. To meet demand, it plans to double the capacity of the 400,000-volt power line connecting the Éguzon dam to Marmagne. A public hearing was help in 2025, with construction not expected to begin before 2032. The project is estimated at nearly 300 million euros, and directly determines the feasibility of the data center, as Gil Avérous himself emphasized during a presentation organized by the National Commission for Public Debate: “For a conventional data center, it’s fine; for a large scale project, we’re limited. We don’t have the capacity to host large data centers.”

An environmental activist involved in the process, who requested anonymity, claims to have tried to obtain details from Enedis and RTE to no avail. “We can’t get any information; it’s top secret—they’ve been ordered to keep their mouths shut.”

"Culture of secrecy"

This code of silence also applies to local officials. When asked about the progress of the data center project, Étrechet Mayor Marc Descouraux replied laconically: “Where does it stand? I won’t tell you, because I don’t know—the metropolitan area is in charge.” The mayor of Buzançais, a town west of Châteauroux, is equally cautious, refusing to even name the American company: “Apparently, we’re not supposed to say its name.”

This discretion is consistent with the usual modus operandi of Big Tech, explains Maxime Colin, an environmental lawyer at environmentalist NGO France Nature Environnement: “Their strategy has always been, on a national scale, to keep quiet so that projects can grow and to only allow society address the problem later.”

Cécile Diguet, an urban planner at Studio Dégel who has developed specific expertise on data centers, confirmed this in a 2019 study conducted for the national environmental agency ADEME: “Data center projects are often concealed at first. They don’t disclose their true nature. Facebook’s code name was Vatas. The local community only knew that the project required 80 to 120 hectares, a lot of water, and a lot of electricity. But they had no idea what the operator’s activities entailed from the outset and well into the project’s development. Big Tech’s culture of secrecy can thus run counter to the need for foresight and urban and economic planning in local areas.”

This strategy of “concealment” also extends to public consultation procedures. In Wissous, in the Essonne department, Amazon presented its data center project step by step in order to reduce the risk of legal challenges and avoid protests. According to Maxime Colin, public information is often minimal, if not nonexistent. “Yet the public still wants to have a say; data centers are topics of interest. But there is a desire on the part of industry players to keep things under wraps.”

For Ophélie Coelho, this lack of transparency fuels the very mistrust it claims to avoid. “Companies remain cautious for fear of criticism. But by refusing to publish specific data—particularly on their energy and water consumption—they achieve the opposite effect,” she explains. “The lack of concrete data encourages unfounded criticism, which is then easy to discredit.”

"Digital sovereignty"

One thing is certain: Google, Amazon, and other data center project developers can count on the French government’s support. “Establishing data centers on our soil is a priority, in order to enhance our digital sovereignty,” stated Anne Le Hénanff, Minister Delegate for Artificial Intelligence and Digital Affairs, in a guide supporting the establishment of data centers in France.

However, installing new digital infrastructure within France is not enough to guarantee any kind of sovereignty when the bulk of the technology, capital, and operators remain foreign-owned. The entire chain—from undersea cables to servers and applications, including chips and software—remains under the control of Big Tech. As for funding, the 109-billion-euro investment plan announced by Emmanuel Macron at the AI Summit comes mainly from foreign investors such as Brookfield (Canada) and MGX (United Arab Emirates). A few French players, such as Thésée and Data4, are involved in some projects, but with minority shares. In Châteauroux, Google’s decision to name its subsidiary “Tricolore Computing” is more a form of gesturing than of actual French control.

The government and the major players behind the data center projects have joined forces to weaken the few regulations governing these facilities. According to the registry of the French High Authority for Transparency in Public Life (HATVP), Google lobbied in support of the bill on simplifying economic life. Its article 15 aims to classify data centers as “projects of major national interest” (PINM). This status would allow government to impose certain developments, through a prefect or a minister, despite opposition from local elected officials, and waive urban planning rules—particularly regarding building height—and certain environmental constraints. It would also grant priority access to strategic resources such as land, water, or electricity.

In Marseille, a proposed data center has already underlined conflicts over access to these resources. Organizations such as La Quadrature du Net and Le Nuage était sous nos pieds have expressed their concerns about these legislative changes.

"It will be difficult to mobilize"

Within the Châteauroux metropolitan council, the opposition remains a minority. Nevertheless, several objections to Google’s project have been raised, such as the fact that it is an American company subject to U.S. law, whose tax contribution in France is inexistent. These elected officials also denounce land sealing, which has exacerbated the recent flooding episodes in France. Data centers are major water consumers, which heightens tensions, particularly given the severe water stress Indre area experienced a few years ago.

A major uncertainty remains: the community’s ability to mobilize if the project were to go ahead. “We’re like a big retirement home,” remarks an environmental activist, half-ironically, half-resigned. If the project moves forward, “we won’t have time to catch our breath! It will be difficult to mobilize. We are vigilant, but we know the balance of power is fragile.” Gaspard Mathé, a reporter for La Nouvelle République, adds to this by describing the region as “unaccustomed to major environmental struggles.” Emmanuel de Saint Pol, a farmer, shares this view: “Mobilize—for what? No one will follow.” Jérémie Godet, vice president of the Centre-Val de Loire Regional Council in charge of climate issues, believes the choice of location is no accident. He says he is “convinced their strategy is to target regions where opposition is weak, if not nonexistent.”

Available land, elected officials desperately seeking an economic boost, an aging population: this wouldn’t be the first time Google has bet on such a combination. The multinational corporation ispresent in Belgium since 2010, in Hainaut, a rural province bordering the Hauts-de-France region. Fifteen years after the initial discussions, the data center now spans 50,000 m² and is set to expand further, at an additional cost of 5 billion euros. The facility was established in a “sparsely populated and remote” area, where the sale of unused municipal land provided a welcome source of revenue for a financially strained council. According to freelance journalist Maïté Warland, information has been minimal: public consultations were “rather brief”, environmental studies remained vague, and there was no comprehensive assessment of the energy impact. A spokesperson for the grid operator even told her: “We don’t know how we’re going to manage Google in two or three years.”

Data centers already account for nearly 1.5% of national electricity consumption in Belgium, with a projection of 10% by 2035, moving the country closer to Ireland, where they account for about 22% of demand. On the employment front, 1,000 to 1,500 jobs were originally promised, but today “we don’t have precise figures,” says the Belgian journalist, who also expresses doubts about the actual proportion of these jobs that will benefit local workers. “In 2024, when questioned in Parliament about the site’s water and electricity consumption, a minister invoked trade secrets,” laments Maïté Warland. Recent governments were also “very supportive and very lax” regarding these infrastructure projects. “They turn a blind eye to the mess,” she concludes.