Andhra Pradesh is making an enormous bet on data centres. Google's proposed AI and data-centre infrastructure in Visakhapatnam is being projected as transformative for the State, bringing investment, employment and economic growth.
I am not arguing that Andhra Pradesh should not attract such investment. My questions are different: What is the State promising in return? How much public money, land, electricity and water are being committed? What will citizens receive in return? And are citizens even allowed to know the terms of the bargain?
I filed an RTI application seeking a copy of the MoU signed between the Andhra Pradesh government and Google. The Information Technology, Electronics and Communications Department refused to provide it, citing commercial confidence and third-party information under Sections 8(1)(d) and 11 of the RTI Act.
Yet government orders that subsequently became public give us glimpses of the bargain. They record a proposed investment of ₹87,520 crore, an initial allotment of 480 acres at a 25% discount that was subsequently increased to 601.4 acres, and significant fiscal and infrastructural concessions. One government order alone provides around ₹23.2 crore in stamp-duty and registration-fee exemptions. Other orders show high-level committees considering company requests for restructuring incentives and modifying various conditions.
If public resources are being committed on this scale, why should the basic agreement remain beyond public scrutiny? What exactly has been promised? What obligations has the company undertaken? How many permanent jobs will actually be created? And what happens if those expectations are not met?
My concern about the allocation of public resources did not begin with data centres. Years ago, an RTI to the Greater Visakhapatnam Municipal Corporation showed that Coca-Cola was being supplied water at a lower rate than ordinary citizens, even as communities adjoining the facility faced serious water problems of their own. That experience has stayed with me, because it matters when we discuss infrastructure requiring enormous, highly reliable supplies of electricity and water. Data centres are now being treated as “mission-critical” infrastructure, with an expectation of uninterrupted service and priority during disruptions.
There may be an operational case for such reliability. But as a matter of public policy it raises an unavoidable question: when water or electricity becomes scarce, whose claim receives priority?
The issue becomes sharper when we look at the government's commitments to some of Andhra Pradesh's most vulnerable citizens. Under PM-JANMAN, more than 43,000 houses were sanctioned for Particularly Vulnerable Tribal Group households in Andhra Pradesh, while fewer than 10,000 had been completed by mid-2026. The present State government itself promised an additional ₹1 lakh per PVTG household to supplement the assistance provided by the Union government. Yet our study found that none of the households we covered had received this promised amount — and this is a promise made by the present government itself, not one inherited from an earlier one.
There is a similar issue with ration delivery in tribal areas. After the present government discontinued doorstep delivery, people in remote hilltop habitations once again have to travel down to collect their ration and carry heavy loads back to their villages.
Our rough estimate is that restoring doorstep delivery specifically in tribal areas would require around ₹10 crore. Yet there appears to be little urgency even for this relatively modest intervention. A recent RTI response I received also showed that the Tribal Welfare Department had made no representation seeking special consideration for tribal areas.
I am not suggesting that ₹23 crore in stamp-duty exemptions can simply be transferred to ration delivery, or that industrial incentives and welfare expenditure are interchangeable budget heads. The comparison is about priority and State capacity.
The government often cites lack of money or administrative constraints for such gaps. But when a large investment is considered a priority, the State demonstrates remarkable capacity: it can negotiate with corporations, create high-level committees, modify policies and conditions, identify land, design incentive packages and organise the necessary infrastructure. The real question is: for whom is that capacity mobilised?
My concern about the Google MoU is not based merely on one rejected RTI. The political dispensation presently governing Andhra Pradesh also has a longer history on transparency. After State bifurcation, Andhra Pradesh took years to establish a functioning Information Commission. Thousands of appeals and complaints remained stranded, appointments were delayed, and judicial intervention became necessary before the statutory appellate machinery became functional. Against that background, the refusal to disclose the Google MoU deserves particular scrutiny — it raises a larger question about the willingness of the State to allow citizens to scrutinise decisions involving enormous public resources.
This is not a case for or against data centres, nor for shifting incentive money to welfare line items. The question is one of political priority. A State that struggles to find relatively modest sums to fulfil commitments already made to some of its most vulnerable citizens is simultaneously demonstrating extraordinary willingness to mobilise money, infrastructure and administrative machinery for large corporate investments.
When public money, land, water, electricity and administrative attention are limited, whose claims does the State consider urgent? And there is one more public resource that belongs on that list: information. Citizens cannot meaningfully judge the choices being made in their name if they are not even allowed to know the terms on which those choices are being made.
Chakradhar Buddha
Send your opinions/comments to [email protected]