Dreams and Water: The Mapuche Perspective
Moira Millán, a Mapuche figure, shares that when rivers or streams appear in dreams, one must pay close attention. “The colour of the water reveals the state of the soul,” she remarks. Residing by the Corcovado River in Argentina’s Chubut province, Millán, a weychafe (meaning “warrior” in Mapudungun), reflects on the significance of pure, free water, referred to as ko, which flows through the veins of the Puelwillimapu territory. This water not only nourishes crops and livestock but serves as a vital source of life.
In Mapuche cosmology, every element of nature possesses a newen, or life force. Extraction of resources is only permissible with prior consent, as humans—known as che—are not seen as owners of the land, but rather as integral parts of an interconnected system. However, what happens when these essential resources begin to dwindle?
“What is life like when you have no water?” questions Nélida Askalipe from the Nahuelpan community in Chubut. In the precordillera region, women traverse up to six kilometres to secure water for their homes, alleviating the impacts of scarcity, hunger, and poverty. They also confront institutional powers that, as they assert, disrupt the natural reciprocity in the name of progress.
“We step out and support these struggles because we are aware of the consequences of land destruction, as if it were our own bodies,” Askalipe adds. This profound connection between “bodies-territory” has propelled Mapuche women to the forefront of the fight against megamining and other forms of extractivism in Argentine Patagonia.
The Unseen Costs of AI Development
In early June, President Javier Milei published an opinion piece in a prominent international outlet, proclaiming that Argentina is ready to embrace artificial intelligence (AI) to liberate itself. He likened this ambition to the spirit of Dutch merchants who transformed Amsterdam into the financial capital of the 17th century, asserting that the nation seeks to create the most attractive legal and fiscal environment for AI companies poised to define the 21st century.
Jessica Gentile, coordinator of the socio-environmental collective Red Ecosocialista, acknowledges that AI is among the most significant technological advancements of our time and could serve as a tool for development. However, she argues that the discussion should focus on the purpose and beneficiaries of this transition.
Gentile places Milei’s statements within a broader strategy by the current government to provide Silicon Valley barons with a legal and economic framework that facilitates the appropriation of Patagonia—one of the world’s most vital reserves of water and gas—for this new infrastructure. Among the mentioned magnates is Peter Thiel, founder of Palantir Technologies, who has recently relocated to Argentina.
In a time of unprecedented demand for computing, energy, and storage, the government proposed the Super RIGI in June 2026. This initiative aims to expand the Incentive Regime for Large Investments (RIGI), which was approved in 2024, to include new industries such as AI megadatacentres. The proposal, still pending Senate approval, offers zero tariffs on imports, reduced employer contributions of 10% for new hires, and guarantees stability in taxation, customs, currency, and regulations for 30 years.
Environmental Concerns Surrounding Data Centres
In a 2025 interview with a business publication, Emiliano Kargieman, co-founder and CEO of Satellogic, unveiled plans for the “first AI data centre in Latin America”, backed by OpenAI. Three provinces—Neuquén, Río Negro, and Chubut—competed for the project, with the governor of Neuquén, Rolando Figueroa, celebrating it as part of provincial economic diversification beyond hydrocarbons. However, updates on the project’s progress remain sparse.
Danila Suárez Tomé, an educator and researcher at the Institute of Philosophical Research, challenges the narrative that links the expansion of AI and data centres with progress. She emphasises the need to stop viewing AI as an intangible “cloud”. “Data centres consume vast amounts of electricity and freshwater for cooling systems to prevent overheating,” she points out. “This can exacerbate water stress in installation areas, prioritising server cooling over the water rights of local communities and regional economies.”
For over 15 years, northern Patagonia has grappled with water stress, compounded by decades of conflict over megamining and oil extraction. Neuquén extended its Agricultural Emergency for drought until late 2026, with historical low water flows. Similarly, Río Negro imposed restrictions on non-priority water uses in January 2026.
In August 2026, the Chubut Legislature declared a year-long water emergency. A month prior, Governor Ignacio Torres announced plans for a data centre in the Trelew Free Trade Zone in partnership with Polish firm Green Capital. The proposed Atlas GigaHub, set to commence in 2027, would feature approximately 3,000 MW of capacity and 10,000 MW of renewable energy generation and storage. While marketed as a renewable energy project, the water demand specifics remain unspecified, prompting provincial deputy Juan Aquino to note that the legislature has requested an unaddressed report on the matter.
Mapuche Women and the Fight Against Environmental Degradation
The International Energy Agency estimated that global data centres consumed around 560 billion litres of water in 2023. The Green Grid explains that the water efficiency of these structures can vary significantly depending on cooling systems, climate, and energy sources. However, the accuracy of these figures remains contested due to a lack of transparency. A 2021 study in the United States indicated that less than a third of operators measure and publicly report their actual consumption.
Argentina currently lacks legislation regulating data centres and their impacts on water ecosystems. Cristian Fernández, legal coordinator at the Foundation for Environment and Natural Resources, warns that this legal void becomes more pressing with the potential sanctioning of the Super RIGI. In the context of a data centre project, “water could be treated merely as a commodity by investors.”
From the banks of the Corcovado River, Moira no longer speaks of “stress” or “water crisis,” but rather of “environmental refugees.” She describes entire families forced to abandon their ancestral lands due to the inability to sustain their lives with mere containers of water. Many precordillera communities endure prolonged water cuts or contaminated aqueducts, severely impacting local production and family agriculture.
Resistance Against Corporate Exploitation
Moira staunchly opposes the Atlas GigaHub project, presented by the provincial government as eco-friendly. “The governor claimed the project would be installed near Comodoro, in the coastal area, and would not affect the water basins of the rivers’ tributaries, but we believe the reality will be different,” she asserts. “The impact of data centres on our territories is extremely concerning.”
Nélida Askalipe shares similar doubts. In her community, Nahuelpan, just 13 kilometres from Esquel, water is already contaminated by the Urban Solid Waste Treatment Plant. “These past few years have been incredibly tough. The governors are not the ones suffering; we are the ones living in these territories,” she laments.
Vilma Pérez, from the Union of Community Assemblies of Trelew, further highlights the crisis: “There is no water in the popular neighbourhoods. The Senguer River is practically dry, and the Chubut River loses more than half its water due to diversions by businesses like Benetton. And now, amidst this turmoil, they want to establish a data centre, with all that entails.”
Irma Caupán Perriot, a social psychologist of Mapuche descent and representative of the Movement of Indigenous Women and Diversities for Good Living, views data processing centres as yet another issue in a region already burdened by mining, fracking, and recurrent wildfires each southern summer. This dangerous mix not only disrupts the ecosystem but threatens the living conditions of its inhabitants, a phenomenon they term “terricidio”—a concept birthed over mate in Buenos Aires, aimed at naming the systematic killing of the Earth and all tangible and spiritual forms of life.
“Women are the land that gives birth to life,” proclaims Askalipe. “We cannot allow this.”
The Ongoing Struggle for Water and Land Rights
Over the past three decades—and from the perspective of Mapuche communities, since the formation of the Argentine state—women have spearheaded many struggles against dispossession and extractivism. In March 2003, a non-binding municipal plebiscite in Esquel rejected a gold and silver extraction project by Meridian Gold with 81% of the vote, leading to Provincial Law No. 5001, which prohibits open-pit mining and cyanide use. Nearly 20 years later, the “Chubutazo” emerged in response to a mining zoning law that enabled activities in the central plateau, forcing then-Governor Mariano Arcioni to backtrack in the face of popular resistance