In a bustling lab in Santiago, Chile’s vibrant capital, ambitious researchers are racing against time, eager to harness the power of artificial intelligence before the global wave leaves their nation behind.
Water vapor rising from cooling towers at Google’s data center in Santiago, Chile. The data center has become a symbol of the environmental toll caused by tech infrastructure.
Meanwhile, in the streets of Cerrillos, a neighborhood nestled on Santiago’s southern fringes, passionate activists are fiercely opposing the construction of massive data centers – the very infrastructure that fuels this AI revolution.
Within the hallowed halls of the presidential palace, government officials meticulously devise strategies to expand Chile’s technological footprint on a tight budget. Their goal: to integrate AI without depleting precious natural resources or provoking a public backlash.
Across Chile, the rise of artificial intelligence has ignited heated political debates. This has transformed the arid South American nation of 20 million people – a country typically far from the epicenter of global tech discussions – into a compelling case study of a society wrestling with the complex trade-offs inherent in the AI arms race.
Chile has actively sought international investment and nurtured local talent, building its capacity for AI. These initiatives promise economic growth, yet they also pose significant environmental threats and deepen the nation’s reliance on American tech behemoths. Proposed government plans to regulate new data centers have sparked widespread protests and, most recently, intense parliamentary debates.
Many Chileans, who often view AI with skepticism or indifference, question whether these ambitious pursuits are truly worth the cost.
Rodrigo Cavieres, a prominent voice in the Socio-Environmental Community Movement for Water and Land (MOSACAT), which has actively protested against large tech corporations, articulates the sentiment: “AI is being fetishized. Data centers are being prioritized over the well-being of our population.”
In Santiago, protesters have demonstrated against data centers, successfully compelling Google to abandon plans for a second site in Chile.
These tensions in Chile mirror similar conflicts unfolding worldwide. Nations from the United Arab Emirates to the Netherlands face a daunting decision: risk overinvesting, straining their environments, and facing public backlash from the AI boom, or risk being left irrevocably behind.
These crucial debates often stem from pivotal moments, much like the one experienced by Álvaro Soto, director of the Chilean National Center for Artificial Intelligence, in 2023. That year, a simple interaction with an early version of the ChatGPT chatbot made him realize Chile’s potential isolation in the AI landscape. When asked about Chilean literature, ChatGPT largely credited Pablo Neruda, the celebrated 20th-century poet, overlooking a rich tapestry of other literary achievements. This, Soto noted, was a clear indication that AI models were not being developed to genuinely reflect the diverse cultures and languages of nations like Chile.
Today, he and a team of researchers are diligently training their own AI model, focusing on overlooked data from Latin America. In June, Chilean President Gabriel Boric emphasized in his state of the union address that the country must wholeheartedly embrace AI. His administration is actively working to simplify the process for foreign companies establishing data centers and to seamlessly integrate AI tools into daily governance.
However, despite this strong political will, communities directly impacted by AI data centers remain deeply dissatisfied. In northern Santiago, a local group is vocally protesting an Amazon site, perceiving it as environmentally damaging gentrification. Nearby, another group is actively demonstrating against a Google data center, concerned about its potential impact on a vital wetland. A third, organized effort in Santiago’s southern outskirts successfully pressured Google to withdraw its plans for a second data center in Chile.
In response, President Boric’s government now plans to direct future data center construction away from densely populated Santiago, aiming instead for the more sparsely inhabited north. This shift, however, raises new environmental concerns among activists, who worry about the potential impact on the ecologically sensitive Atacama Desert, an area already scarred by extensive mining operations.
“There are these moments in Chile where it’s like looking into the future,” observes Marina Otero, an architect and Harvard lecturer specializing in data centers. “The struggle over AI will continue. It’s a clear sign of things to come.”
The Ecstasy and Agony
Matías Muchnick, the chief executive and founder of NotCo, at the company’s Santiago laboratory, which uses precise measurements of food preparation to feed an A.I. recipe engine.
One morning in a lab-like kitchen in Santiago, the innovative food-tech startup NotCo was hard at work. Their mission: to leverage artificial intelligence in solving a pressing challenge for major food and snack brands – replacing food dyes recently banned by U.S. health secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.
NotCo employs an advanced AI-powered engine, meticulously trained on molecular data, to re-engineer ingredients for some of the world’s largest food brands. To develop this groundbreaking technology, the company, now valued at $1.5 billion, required computing power far beyond local capabilities. In 2018, CEO and founder Matías Muchnick reached out to Google, securing access to specialized microchips designed for AI applications.
“We wanted to build a research and development powerhouse, and that made our lives way, way easier,” Mr. Muchnick affirmed.
NotCo has quickly become a shining example of how Chilean enterprise can successfully harness AI. Yet, the very infrastructure necessary to support such innovation has triggered significant public opposition.
NotCo’s offices in Santiago. NotCo has become a sign of Chilean technological knowhow.
In 2015, Google established its inaugural Latin American data center in Quilicura, a community on the outskirts of Santiago, adjacent to a sensitive wetland. According to environmental impact records submitted during the project’s proposal phase, the facility consumes 50 liters of water per second for cooling its vast array of computers—an amount roughly equivalent to the daily usage of 8,000 Chilean households. A Google spokesperson later stated that the site’s water consumption last year was significantly lower, comparable to that of a single golf course.
Historically, older data centers often rely on water evaporation to cool overheating computers. While newer technologies are designed for water conservation and recycling, environmentalists continue to highlight the substantial water demands of many data centers.
Rodrigo Vallejos, a dedicated local activist, shared compelling video footage of the area’s past, depicting lush marshlands and vibrant lagoons. Today, much of that landscape lies parched, even during the rainy season.
Before and after footage of the wetlands in Quilicura, Chile, gives a sense of the environmental impact on the area. Videos by Rodrigo Vallejos and Marcos Zegers
For Mr. Vallejos, the trade-off has been woefully unbalanced. He points out that the data center provides minimal local employment, and the designated “community offset” – a park situated next to a cemetery – sees very little public use.
“Ultimately, we risk becoming little more than an artificial intelligence warehouse for the world,” he lamented.
Rodrigo Vallejos, an activist and a law student, has taken a leading role in the protection of the Quilicura wetland.
In many respects, Chile is already evolving into such a hub. The country boasts 33 data centers, and this number is projected to double by 2030, according to Chile Data Centers, a prominent industry organization.
Many Chileans are only just beginning to grasp the function of these facilities and their broader environmental effects. When Google announced plans in 2019 for another data center in nearby Cerrillos, residents initially anticipated job creation. However, subsequent environmental filings revealed a facility with minimal staffing that would consume an estimated 228 liters of water per second—the equivalent of what approximately 40,000 households might use.
Tania Rodríguez, a determined resident, took it upon herself to alert her neighbors, knocking on doors to voice concerns about the project and galvanizing community resistance. Her efforts paid off: last year, Google publicly withdrew its plans.
Yet, Ms. Rodríguez is far from declaring victory. Representatives of a local Google subsidiary have recently recommenced community outreach, signaling renewed interest in another data center development.
“We are not against artificial intelligence – it’s a technology we absolutely need to develop,” Ms. Rodríguez stated. Nevertheless, she remains resolute in her commitment to protest against Google, emphasizing, “we must be efficient in how we utilize our natural resources, because that is absolutely vital for human survival.”
The Astronomy Model
The Vera Rubin Observatory in Cerro Pachón, Chile. In the 1990s, foreign astronomers vied to build telescopes in the country’s deserts.
In 2024, Sebastián Howard, an official within Chile’s Ministry of Science, Technology, Knowledge and Innovation, made a startling discovery: tech companies were planning to construct 30 new data centers over the next four years, with nearly all of them concentrated around Santiago—a region already grappling with severe drought conditions.
“We didn’t have the energy for it,” Mr. Howard remarked, referring to the capital’s strained resources. “Most critically, we didn’t have the water.”
Mr. Howard spearheaded a government initiative to redirect data center development away from the capital. He and his team developed a sophisticated tool to identify optimal locations that would minimize environmental and social impact. Their research led them to Antofagasta, a northern desert city rich in solar energy potential.
Their forward-thinking strategy drew inspiration from Chile’s successful astronomy model. In the 1990s, as international astronomers competed to build powerful telescopes in the country’s exceptionally clear-skied deserts, the Chilean government implemented a groundbreaking rule: 10 percent of all telescope observation time had to be allocated to local researchers. This policy transformed Chile into a global leader in astronomical research.
Mr. Howard and his colleagues envision a similar future for AI. “If these companies want to invest here, we need to find a way for them to ensure that this infrastructure is also going to be used for our universities and local companies,” he asserted.
Globally, many nations concerned about access to AI have chosen to build their own data centers. Under Chile’s proposed plan, however, domestic companies and universities would instead gain access to the immense computing power provided by foreign corporations.
Selling this innovative concept has proven challenging. Many perceive the government’s plans as an attempt to favor large corporations at the expense of public welfare. Activists have highlighted a controversial environmental rule change that could significantly reduce transparency regarding water and electricity consumption by these facilities.
At a workshop last year, organized to explain AI development to community leaders, Mr. Howard faced a chorus of angry shouts after stating, “It’s a privatized country. These companies can do whatever they want.”
“The moment you lose the capability to understand how your machine is working, or the ability to even build your own machine, that’s the moment you lose,” said Aisén Etcheverry, Chile’s former minister of science, technology, knowledge and innovation.
Whether tech giants will fully embrace the government’s plan to relocate data centers to the northern regions remains uncertain. Felipe Ramírez, who oversees Amazon Web Services in Chile, expressed concerns that positioning data centers nearly 680 miles from Santiago could lead to significant internet lag – a critical issue for voice-based AI, where even a millisecond delay can negatively impact user experience.
“It makes sense on paper, but the reality is that I don’t know if we’re going to end up training models worldwide in Antofagasta,” he conceded.
Nevertheless, the government is forging ahead. Aisén Etcheverry, a presidential adviser and former minister of science, technology, knowledge and innovation, confirmed that discussions with major firms are ongoing. She expressed optimism that a final plan would be announced by the end of the year.
Etcheverry warns that if Chile fails to influence how AI systems interpret its language, history, and institutions, the nation risks being excluded from shaping its own future. “The moment you lose the capability to understand how your machine is working or the ability to even build your own machine, that’s the moment you lose,” she stated emphatically. “We don’t want that.”
Pascale Bonnefoy contributed reporting.
A correction was made on Oct. 22, 2025: An earlier version of this article incorrectly reported the expected timing of the government’s final plan for encouraging data center development in the northern part of Chile. The hope is to announce the plan by the end of the year, not before national elections next month.
Paul Mozur is the global technology correspondent for The Times, based in Taipei. Previously he wrote about technology and politics in Asia from Hong Kong, Shanghai and Seoul.
A version of this article appears in print on , Section B, Page 1 of the New York edition with the headline: How Chile Embodies A.I.’s No-Win Politics.