AI Is Killing My Hometown. It’ll Kill Yours Too.

Our world is being consumed by artificial intelligence, and my hometown is ground zero for its storage. We’ve always been the country’s testing grounds, and eventual dumping grounds. We’re useful until we aren’t, and now our land is coveted once again. In the borough of Archbald, data center developers are set to erect “51 Walmart supercenters” that don’t sell food, but instead house your AI prompts.

They want more than 14% of Archbald’s available land. Even if your hometown is spared—your future isn’t. I can tell you firsthand as someone only three years out of college, I’m currently training software that will eventually replace me. I spend my week preparing a computer to replace me, and perhaps the very people who just graduated.

I live in neighboring Scranton, Pennsylvania, the birthplace of a President, the childhood stomping grounds of W.S. Merwin, and the once “Anthracite Capital of the World.” We claimed the first electric trolley, and contributed to the nation’s railways. We built this country—or at least helped it flourish. Scranton has always been a backbone of sorts, even if the powerful take us for useful idiots.

We're useful until we aren't.

History has a way of repeating itself, and in the modern world we’ve become an ideal candidate for more wealth extraction. They’re looking to loot the remnants of our industrial past by snagging access to high-voltage transmission lines that run directly through our area. They tell us our energy bills won’t go up, or its performance won’t be impacted—but we’re used to being sold short.

Back in the anthracite boom our region at least benefitted from jobs that lasted longer than a few years. We saw actual investment—because the executives doing the extracting lived locally. Now, we’re prime real estate for the systems designed to make us all jobless. A few miles north of Scranton sits Archbald, Pennsylvania. It’s a quaint town, with wonderful people. To Silicon Valley they’re just numbers, but to us they’re family worth fighting for.

But right now, we’re clearing the land before we’ve even cleared the air on what these projects do. Local communities are told to expect a windfall—a narrative directly manufactured by the state capital. Governor Josh Shapiro recently outlined his “GRID” initiative—and as of yesterday, the Pennsylvania House passed a bill codifying it. While the bill passed with bipartisan support and now moves to the State Senate, a look beneath the bipartisan praise reveals why local communities are sounding the alarm.

It’s populist posturing from a career politician whose mind is detached from Pennsylvania and instead focused on Pennsylvania Ave. The plan feels like an early bode of corporate compliance—a down payment from future donors that confirms his willingness to leave his constituents behind.

Under Shapiro’s plan, the bulk of jobs are temporary, and the language is deliberately vague—only requiring “good faith” discussions after the damage is done. Tech companies worth billions don’t need “commonwealth support.” Their pockets are deep enough to sidestep the scheme altogether. Sure, they offer construction jobs with the plan requesting the recruitment of at least 200 jobs during the construction phase, and a meager 50 jobs thereafter—to be “delivered” on or before the fourth anniversary of participation in this initiative. This plan doesn’t just alarm us—it solidifies the sentiment felt across our region.

We haven’t forgotten about our past, and we’re fiercely protective of our future. In an area like ours, we’ve learned all we have is each other. Even if politicians question our ability to debate the devastation of our natural land—we won’t let up, and as our nation approaches our 250th birthday, why would we? We even wear the local politicians' resignations as a badge of honor.

It’s populist posturing from a career politician whose mind is detached from Pennsylvania and instead focused on Pennsylvania Ave.

The future we’re protecting isn’t just our own. The fight we’re engulfed in has implications larger than the thousands of people that call my region home. We’re rushing systems that will systematically change the way we live. Automation and Artificial Intelligence continue to gain ground on us common folk. Corporations don’t want questions from subordinates; they want concession and “stress-free” wealth extraction. Robots don’t question their corporate overlords, but people watching their home and their children’s future evaporate do.

In our country students are promised a prize for taking on debt as a tradeoff for prosperity, but where will AI and automation leave us? Recent graduates are facing the toughest entry-level job market in years and this time it feels unfair to attribute it solely to historical trends.

The real trend is the consistent silence from our public servants, and the contempt they display when questioned. It’s a top-down effort marketed as a material requirement for national security that doesn’t actually benefit constituents but instead commands their rebellion.

It’s an unfortunate but fitting narrative. It’s a fight we won’t forgo—in a way, it’s reminded us of what’s important. Today, our “tech renaissance” has become blanketed in corporate oligarchy supported by the executive branch, and pushed by our local politicians. We’re labeled as conspiracy theorists and called crazy for questioning it.

The institutional contempt goes all the way to the top. Fears of overreach are at an all-time high. According to a recent Wired report detailing federal law enforcement priorities, the FBI has tracked broad domestic threat categories like “Anti-Tech Extremists.” Historically, lists like this have been used to discredit genuine critique, effectively quelling legally protected dissent.

By viewing systematic skepticism through the lens of national security, the elite class implicitly reframes those defending their own valleys as contrarians at best, or “anti-American” at worst.

People standing together as Americans in the face of a government more interested in controlling them rather than serving them isn’t extremist. It’s a mentality that was used to found the very nation looking to discredit our efforts. We aren’t combatants; we’re concerned citizens feeling left without answers.

This isn’t a fight unique to Pennsylvania nor is it a story separated from American history. In fact, it’s a story only fitting for a country like ours at a time like this. While people celebrate, others contest the consumption of their hometown. We do so not only to protect the places and people we love, but to fight for the very future of this nation. The fight isn’t possession over land in Pennsylvania—it’s a powerplay aimed at people it views as unprofitable.

Our anger should be directed towards the very companies that commanded our families’ loyalty for generations. We remember those silly lines about how we’re “family” and that “we’re in it together.” Now it’s our turn, hear our cries. We simply ask to be left alone, and for our futures to not be up for cost cutting. We’ve remained loyal, and now without debate, we’re no longer useful.

The fight isn't possession over land in Pennsylvania—it's a powerplay aimed at people it views as unprofitable.

The government has no formal plan to remedy the looming unemployment. The people have questions that go unanswered, and their very dissent may eventually be questioned as “extremist.” We’re American and in our nation dissent has always been fashionable—it’s woven into the very fabric of our founding documents and sits within the DNA of everyone who calls it home.

As you celebrate our nation’s semiquincentennial, ask yourself, is it us who are “anti-American?” Or has the elite and political class forgotten their place in our society? When “representatives” vote at the behest of donors and special interest groups, real people suffer. In our country such is a recurring theme, but it simply shouldn’t be.

Even if your hometown is spared—your future isn't.

Joshua K. Burke — AI Is Killing My Hometown. It'll Kill Yours Too.