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• Jess D’Souza, a small-time pig farmer in Klevenville, is challenged to sustain her livelihood in the wake of a sudden federal funding cut.

• After years of taking no salary, she had hoped 2025 would be the first year she turned a profit, aided by Wisconsin’s participation in the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s Local Food Purchase Assistance program, designed to support underserved farmers and bolster local food systems. But the Trump administration abruptly rescinded the program, upending Jess’ plans.

• As she contends with the government’s broken promise and weighs whether to raise or sell her newest piglets, Jess seeks to build a more resilient food system independent from political whims.

Two piglets jostled in the barnyard as Jess D’Souza stepped outside. Neither youngster seemed to be winning their morning game of tug-of-war over an empty feed bag.

Jess approached the chicken coop. She swung open the weathered door. The flood of fowl scampered up a hill to a cluster of empty food bowls.

Groans resembling bassoons and didgeridoos leaked from the hog house as groggy pigs stirred. Jess often greets them in a singsong as she completes chores.

Hi Mama! Hi babies! 

She asks if she can get them some hay. Or perhaps something to drink? The swine respond with raspy snorts and spine-rattling squeals.

Jess unfurled the hose from the water pump as pigs trudged outdoors into their muddy pen.

“Is everybody thirsty? Are you all thirsty? Is that what’s going on?”

That morning, Jess slipped a Wisconsin Farmers Union beanie over her dark brown hair and stepped into comfy gray Dovetail overalls — “Workwear for Women by Women.” The spring wind was still crisp. Bare tree branches swayed across the 80-acre farm.

She filled a plastic bucket, then heaved the water over a board fence into a trough.

Growing up, the Chicago native never imagined a career rearing dozens of Gloucestershire Old Spots pigs in Klevenville, Wisconsin — an agricultural enclave surrounded by creeping neighborhoods of the state’s capital and surrounding communities.

She can watch the precociously curious creatures from her bedroom window much of the year. Their skin is pale, dotted with splotchy ink stains. Floppy ears shade their eyes from the sun like an old-time bank teller’s visor.

Jess spends her days tending to the swine, hoisting 40-pound organic feed bags across her shoulder and under an arm. Some pigs lumber after her, seeking scratches, belly rubs and lunch. Juveniles dart through gaps in the electric netting she uses to cordon off the barnyard, woods and pastures up a nearby hill.

She knows she shouldn’t view her pigs like pet dogs, but she coos at them when she works. Right until the last minute.

Jess hadn’t anticipated politics would so dramatically affect her farm.

Last year, Jess doubled the size of her pig herd, believing the government’s agriculture department, the USDA, would honor a $5.5 million grant it awarded to Wisconsin. 

Under the Biden administration, the agency gave states money for two years to run the Local Food Purchase Assistance program, or LFPA, which helped underserved farmers invest in local food systems and grow their businesses.

In Wisconsin, the state, Indigenous tribes and several farming groups developed a host of projects that enabled producers to deliver goods like plump tomatoes and crisp emerald spinach to food pantries, schools and community organizations across all 72 counties.

The Trump administration gutted the program in March, just as farmers started placing seed orders. For her part, Jess must anticipate the size of her pork harvests 18 months in advance. She banked on program funding as guaranteed income.

This was supposed to be the year Jess, 40, broke a profit after a decade of toiling. She has never paid herself.

Jess chuckles as she admits she worries too much. She’s an optimist at heart but mulls over questions that lack ready-made answers: How will she support herself following her recent divorce? How are her son and daughter faring during their tumultuous teens? How will she keep the piglets from being squished by the adults?

Now, if she can’t find buyers for the four tons of pork she expects to produce, will she even be able to keep farming?

The world, she thinks, feels like it’s on fire. 

***

In childhood, Jess, the elder sibling, strove to meet her parents’ expectations. School was her top priority. Academic achievement would lead to a good job, material comfort and happiness. She realized only as an adult that her rejection of this progression reflected a difference in values, not a personal deficiency.

She almost taught high school mathematics after college, but didn’t like forcing lukewarm students to learn.

Jess moved in 2005 to Verona, Wisconsin, where she planted fruit trees and vegetable gardens in her suburban yards. But a yard can only produce so much. She wanted chickens and ducks and perennial produce.

Jess can’t pinpoint a precise moment when she decided to farm pigs.

She attended workshops where farmers raved about Gloucestershires. The mamas attentively care for their offspring. Jess wouldn’t have to fret that the docile creatures would eat her own kids. Pigs also are the source of her favorite meats, and the breed tastes delicious. Her housemate wanted to harvest one.

It took almost 3 ½ years to name the farm after Jess and her then-husband located and purchased the property in 2016. 

She hiked it during a showing and discovered a creek and giant pile of sand in the woods that for her children could become the best sandbox ever.

What did the place encapsulate, she mused.

She chronicled life on “Yet to be Named Community Farm” across social media: Photographs of piglets wrestling in straw piles next to lip-smacking pork entrees.

Also, lessons learned.

“I like to tell people I’m a recovering perfectionist, and farming is playing a large part in that recovery,” Jess posted to Facebook. She can’t develop the perfect plan in the face of unpredictability. Farmers must embrace risk. Maybe predators will infiltrate the hen house, the ends of a fence don’t quite align or a mama will crush her litter. 

On the farm, life and death meet.

Some days, Jess can only keep the dust out of her eyes and her wounds bandaged.

Years later, the creatures living on the land still insist she take a moment to pause.

Jess once encountered a transparent monarch chrysalis. She inspected the incubating butterfly’s wings, noticing each tiny gold dot.

The farm instills a sense of wonderment.

When the idea for a name emerged, she knew.

Wonderfarm.

***

In March, a thunderstorm crashed overhead, and Jess couldn’t sleep. Clicking through her inbox at 5 a.m., she had more than five times her usual emails to sift through.

The daily stream of news from Washington grew unbearable. Murmurings that LFPA might be cancelled had been building.

President Donald Trump’s administration wasted no time throttling the civil service since he took office in January. Billionaire Elon Musk headed a newly created Department of Government Efficiency that scoured offices and grants purportedly seeking to unearth waste and fraud.

The executive branch froze payments, dissolved contracts and shuttered programs. Supporters cheered a Republican president who promised to finally drain the swamp. Detractors saw democracy and the rule of law cracking under hammer blows.

But agriculture generally gleans support from both sides of the aisle, Jess thought. Although lawmakers disagree over who may claim to be a “real” farmer versus a mere hobbyist, surely the feds wouldn’t can the program.

Like the lightning overhead, the news shocked.

LFPA “no longer effectuates agency priorities,” government officials declared in terse letters sent to states and tribes.

Its termination left Jess and hundreds of producers and recipients in a lurch. The cut coincided with ballooning demand at food banks and pantries while congressional Republicans pushed legislation to shrink food assistance programs.

LFPA is a relic of a bygone era, Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins said in May.

She smiled as she touted the administration’s achievements and defended agency reductions before congressional appropriations subcommittees.

Sen. Tammy Baldwin, D-Wis., pressed the secretary, asking if the department will reinstate “critical” food assistance programs. One in five Wisconsin children and one in 10 adults — often elderly, disabled or employed but struggling — are unable to or uncertain how they will obtain enough nutritious food.

“Those were COVID-era programs,” Rollins said, shaking her head. “They were never meant to go forever and ever.”

But LFPA also strengthened local food infrastructure, which withered on the vine as a few giant companies — reaching from fields to grocery aisles — came to dominate America’s agricultural sector.

The pandemic illustrated what happens when the country’s food system grinds to a halt. Who knows when the next wave will strike?

***

Nearly 300 Wisconsin producers participated in LFPA over two years. A buyer told Jess their organization could purchase up to $12,000 of pork each month — almost as much as Jess previously earned in a year.

Wisconsin’s $8 million award was among the tiniest of drops in the USDA’s billion-dollar budget. The agency’s decision seemed illogically punitive.

Only a few months earlier, Biden’s agriculture department encouraged marginalized farmers and fishers to participate so underserved communities could obtain healthy and “culturally relevant” foods like okra, bok choy and Thai chilis.

Then the Trump administration cast diversity, equity and inclusion programs as “woke” poison.

Cutting LFPA also clashes with Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s Make America Healthy Again initiative and his calls to ban ultra-processed foods. Farmers and distributors wondered what goods pantries would use to stock shelves instead of fresh produce. Boxed macaroni?

The aftershocks of the canceled award spread through Wisconsin’s local food distribution networks. Trucks had been rented, staff hired and hub-and-spoke routes mapped in preparation for three more years of government-backed deliveries.

For a president who touts the art of the deal, pulling the plug on an investment that neared self-sufficiency is just bad business, said Tara Turner-Roberts, manager of the Wisconsin Food Hub Cooperative.

Democratic Gov. Tony Evers accused the Trump administration of abandoning farmers, and Attorney General Josh Kaul recently joined 20 others suing to block grant rescissions.

Meanwhile, participants asked the agriculture department and Congress to reinstate the program. Should that fail, they implored Wisconsin legislators to fill the gap and continue to seek local solutions.

Jess is too.

***

Jess alternately texted on her cellphone and scanned a swarm of protesters who gathered across the Wisconsin State Capitol’s lawn.

She had agreed to speak before hundreds, potentially thousands, of people and was searching for an organizer.

Madison’s “Hands off!” rally reflected national unrest that ignited during the first 75 days of Trump’s term. In early April, a coalition of advocates and civil rights groups organized more than 1,300 events across every state.

Jess pulled out a USDA-branded reusable sandwich bag, which she had loaded with boiled potatoes to snack on. She and her new girlfriend joined the masses and advanced down State Street to the University of Wisconsin-Madison campus.

A hoarse woman wearing a T-shirt covered in peace patches and a tie-dye bandana directed the marchers. She led them in a menagerie of greatest protest hits during the 30-minute walk past shops, restaurants and mixed-use high-rises.

“Money for jobs and education, not for war and corporations!” her metallic voice crackled through a megaphone. 

Trump’s administration had maligned so many communities, creating a coherent rallying cry seemed impossible. The chant leader hurriedly checked her cellphone for the next jingle in a dizzying display of outrage.

“The people, united, will never be defeated!”

“Say it loud! Say it clear! Immigrants are welcome here!”

Jess leaned into her girlfriend, linking arms as they walked. 

They ran into a friend with violet hair. Jess grinned sheepishly, trying not to think about the speech.

“You’ll be fine,” her friend said.

The chant captain bellowed. 

“Hands off everything!”

A black police cruiser flashed its emergency lights as the walk continued under overcast skies.

An hour later, Jess stood atop a cement terrace, awed by the sea of chatter, laughter and shouts that swamped the plaza.

A friend took her photo. Jess swayed to the chant of “Defund ICE!” A protester walked past, carrying a sign bearing the silhouette of Trump locking lips with Russian President Vladmir Putin.

Someone passed Jess a microphone. The crowd shouted to the heavens that “trans lives matter!” A cowbell clanged.

She grinned.

“I don’t want to slow us down,” Jess began.

She described her dilemma as the crowd listened politely. The government broke its commitments. She struggles to pay bills between unpredictable sales. Some farm chores require four working hands. 

Jess only has two.

“LFPA kind of gave me hope that I’d be able to keep doing the thing that I love,” she said.

Bystanders booed as she recounted the night of the fateful email. Jess chuckled and rocked on her foot, glad to see friends in the audience.

“The structures around us are crumbling,” she said, shrugging. “So let’s stop leaning on them. Let’s stop feeding them. Let’s grow a resilient community.”

The crowd whooped.

 ***

It’s hard for Jess to stomach meat on harvest days.

Naming an animal and later slaughtering it necessitates learning how to grieve. Jess had years to practice.

The meat processor’s truck rumbled up the farm driveway at 7 a.m. in late April.

Jess spent the previous week sorting her herd, selecting the six largest non-breeding swine. She ushered them to either side of a fence that bisected the barnyard.

It took roughly 30 minutes for the two butchers to transform a pig into pork on Jess’ farm. The transfiguration occurred somewhere between the barnyard, the metal cutting table and the cooler where the halved carcasses dangle from hooks inside the mobile slaughter unit.

The butchers unpacked their gear in the gentle morning glow. Jess carried a plastic tray of eggs, squash shavings and mango peels to the pen.

The snack helps lure anxious pigs during the harvest. It’s also a final gift for the one they are about to give.

The butchers employed an electrical stunner that resembles a pair of barbecue tongs. A coiled cord connects the contraption to a battery that releases an electric current.

When pressed to a pig’s head, the animal seizes and passes out. The butchers cut its chest before it awakens.

An hour into the harvest, Jess guided more swine from a trailer, where a cluster slept the previous night, along with a seventh little pig that wasn’t headed to the block.

A male began to urinate atop a dead female — possibly mating behavior. Jess smacked his butt to shoo him away. She regretted it. 

He bolted across the yard, grunting and sidestepping whenever Jess approached.

“Just leave him for the next round,” one of the butchers said.

Jess remembers her first on-farm slaughter years ago when a female spooked and tore through the woods. Jess kept her as a breeder.

The agitated male disappeared behind the red barn. He sniffed the air as he peeked around the corner.

The standoff lasted another hour. One of the butchers returned with a 20-gauge shotgun. He unslung it from his shoulder, then walked behind the building.

Jess turned away. She covered her ears. A rooster crowed.

The crack split the air.

The other worker hauled the pig across the barnyard, leaving a glossy wake in the dirt.

Jess crossed the pen, shoulders deflated, and stepped over the dividing fence to feed the others.

A 6-month-old trotted over to her. Jess squatted on her haunches and extended a gloved hand. 

“Are you playing?” she asked. “Is that what is happening?”

***

The May harvest never happened.

Nearly all the females were pregnant, even though they aren’t designated breeders. Jess will postpone the slaughter day for now.

She needs to decide whether to raise her spring piglets or sell them. It all depends on how quickly she can move product, but she’s leaning toward keeping them.

The pork from April’s butchering is on ice as she works her way down a list of potential buyers. She still serves people in need by selling a portion to a Madison nonprofit that distributes Farms to Families “resilience boxes.”

Jess marks the days she collects her meat from the processor. She defrosts, say, a pack of brats and heats them up for dinner. 

She celebrates her pigs.

Jess and her farming peers are planning for a world with less federal assistance.

One idea: They would staff shifts at the still-under-construction Madison Public Market, where fresh food would remain on site 40 hours a week. No more schlepping meat from cold storage to a pop-up vendor stand.

She dreams of a wholesale market where buyers place large orders. One day maybe. No government whims or purse strings.

Like seeds that sprout after a prairie burn, some institutions will survive the flames, she thinks. Perhaps it doesn’t have to be the ones in Washington. 

Those that remain will grow anew.

This story is part of a partnership with the Mississippi River Basin Ag & Water Desk, an editorially independent reporting network based at the University of Missouri School of Journalism in partnership with Report for America and funded by the Walton Family Foundation.

Wisconsin Watch is a member of the Ag & Water Desk network. Sign up for our newsletters to get our news straight to your inbox.

Wisconsin pig farmer holds on at Wonderfarm as Washington breaks a promise is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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• Wisconsin has seen a handful of new data center proposals, including projects in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin Rapids, Port Washington and Kenosha. Microsoft broke ground in 2023 on a 450-megawatt, $3.3 billion campus in Mount Pleasant at the former Foxconn site — a project that has twice paused. 

• Data centers use lots of electricity — accounting for nearly 4.5% of U.S. electricity consumption in 2023. 

• Wisconsin is among states that have offered tax breaks and power rate discounts to tech companies building data centers.

• Tech companies promise billion-dollar investments, high-tech jobs and property tax revenue — arguing communities would be passed over if not for the incentives.

A build-out of new data centers — the often-gargantuan warehouses of power-gobbling microchips that power cloud computing, artificial intelligence and social media — is capturing the attention of utilities and states, which, anticipating potential profits, are compelled to satisfy the energy needs of tech companies.

Giants like Amazon, Google, Meta and Microsoft are contracting nationally with utilities, which face a resulting boom in power demand. In 2023, data centers accounted for nearly 4.5% of U.S. electricity consumption, a figure that is expected to balloon up to 12% by 2028. 

Wisconsin has seen a handful of new data center proposals, including projects in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin Rapids, Port Washington and Kenosha. Microsoft broke ground in 2023 on a 450-megawatt, $3.3 billion campus in Mount Pleasant at the former Foxconn site, although work on the data center has since paused twice.

Utilities generally operate under state-granted monopolies that enable the companies to cover service costs and earn a return on their infrastructure investments. The public is a “captive ratepayer,” meaning they lack other options.  

Normally, this ensures utilities grow in line with societal energy demands, but when a few choice customers add significant load to the grid, priorities can change.

To attract investment, states compete to woo Big Tech with competitive incentives, including discounted power rates. More than 30 states, including Wisconsin, exempt data centers from the sales tax on information technology equipment.

But the courtship can become a race to the bottom.

Companies often promise billion-dollar investments, high-tech jobs and property tax revenue, marketed as zero-cost to states — arguing communities would be passed over if not for the incentives. 

Less discussed, however, are the impacts of the new electric loads and the ways utilities can spread energy costs to the public.

At worst, construction of new power facilities could prove unneeded if a data center project fails to come to fruition or its power needs change, potentially leaving the public to foot the bill.

Those are some of the issues discussed in a recent white paper produced by Harvard University researchers, who express skepticism that consumers won’t absorb data center energy costs. 

Ari Peskoe, who directs Harvard’s Electricity Law Initiative, and legal fellow Eliza Martin reviewed almost 50 utility proceedings, documenting how utilities can subsidize the electricity demands of trillion-dollar corporations and simultaneously capture a profit by passing on costs to ratepayers.

Wisconsin Watch environmental reporter Bennet Goldstein recently spoke to Peskoe. Their interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Where is the United States headed with respect to electricity use?

Our electricity use had been basically flat for the past 15 years, and now suddenly that’s projected to change pretty dramatically and pretty quickly. And it’s data center growth that’s really leading that charge.

These data centers are just massive, massive energy users. A single facility can use as much energy as a large city. There’s a facility in Louisiana that’s being built now that may be as much as two gigawatts. The city of New Orleans is one gigawatt. The rate-setting process just isn’t designed for these massive new facilities.

Can you describe the ways in which data center companies receive subsidies to site a project?

The simplest way that this can happen is just that the utility builds a piece of infrastructure — a new power line, a new power plant — and it’s designed primarily to meet the needs of one of these large data centers, and the utility would spread the costs across to all consumers. 

But we think that doesn’t really make sense when, in some cases, there are billions of dollars of infrastructure being built for a single wealthy consumer. Utilities benefit from it a lot.

Your paper noted that utility contracts with data centers are treated as confidential agreements, not subject to public evaluation. Why does this matter and what other trends did you notice in the proceedings you reviewed?

A rate case is how the utility sets rates for everyone, and that’s a very public process.

Most of the proceedings we looked at were about these, sort of, “side deals” between a data center and a utility. Very few parties participate in these proceedings, so that’s a problem for regulators because regulators have to make decisions based on the evidence that’s before them. Here, there’s often only one party. It’s the utility, and it makes it very hard for regulators to rule against the utility when there’s not any competing evidence.

In some states, regulators are supposed to evaluate, for example, whether there are economic development benefits of the contract that make it in the public interest even if it is shifting some costs to other ratepayers. In some states, regulators do have to find that their contract does not burden other ratepayers. 

These sorts of issues about cost allocation are generally heavily disputed when there are other parties participating, so we don’t put a lot of stock in the claims that these secret contracts are not burdening other ratepayers.

Are new data centers and accompanying infrastructure to power them good investments for the public?

When you hear one of these facilities being announced, sometimes they are being announced with great fanfare. Elected officials like to announce big projects. Some of these facilities get big press releases and press conferences, and the governor is up there smiling about it. 

But, there ought to be some mechanism to ensure that the potentially very expensive infrastructure being built for these facilities is not being paid for by the public, but by the data center. We can’t make a specific claim about a confidential deal, but we’re skeptical that these deals are not shifting costs.

They’re a bad deal for ratepayers, looking at electricity costs — not considering the wider societal effects of these facilities and the construction jobs.

What are alternatives that would spare customers these costs?

These confidential contracts: Let’s get rid of them. Let’s do a more public, transparent process that encourages and allows for more participation. Let’s include these data centers in rate cases and figure out what terms and conditions make sense for them.

Allow the data centers to contract for infrastructure with developers who are not the utility. You have companies that are not utilities competing in markets to build power plants to sell that power. If you can have a contract just between a data center and a power plant developer, the utility is not part of it, and therefore, there’s no danger that those costs might somehow trickle through to other consumers’ bills.

How can ratepayers advocate for themselves?

Public utility commissions do have some public processes, particularly for the construction of new projects. Even if that contract is secret, if they’re going to build a new power plant, there’s typically a public process around that. Those processes can often attract attention and have public hearings and opportunities for the public to weigh in.

How about creating special rates for very large customers like a recent southeast Wisconsin proposal from We Energies for “very large customers”?

It makes a lot of sense to establish separate terms and conditions for utility service for these very, very large energy consumers. It’s billions of dollars of costs, and it makes sense to put some contractual system or a tariff system in place that makes sure those entities are responsible for those costs. 

There’s a risk that the utility starts to build this infrastructure and potentially invest hundreds of millions, even billions of dollars. The market changes — as maybe we’re seeing right now — and suddenly that data center developer doesn’t want to complete their facility for any number of reasons. Now who’s going to be left bearing the billion-dollar cost that the utility just spent? You want to make sure it’s on the data center.

What does the construction of more data centers mean for curbing greenhouse gas emissions?

A lot of the new growth is going to be met by natural gas power plants. We’re seeing that in Louisiana, for example. A lot of states have strong clean energy goals. About 20 or so states have committed to 100% clean power by some future date. (Wisconsin’s goal: that all electricity consumed within the state be 100% carbon-free by 2050.) Those goals are premised on how much energy is going to be sold in that state. If there’s more energy sold, that means we have to build more clean energy to meet those goals. It’s already a challenge to meet the goals as it is.

Data center construction is booming, and it could affect utility rates is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.

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Wisconsin is no exception to national trends when it comes to courting Big Tech. 

The state has seen a handful of new data center proposals, including projects in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin Rapids, Port Washington and Kenosha. Microsoft broke ground in 2023 on a 450-megawatt, $3.3 billion campus in Mount Pleasant at the former Foxconn site, although work on the data center has since paused twice.

Wisconsin lawmakers on the state’s finance committee included a sales tax exemption in the 2023-25 state budget based on a standalone bill that received bipartisan support.

The tax exemption, subject to approval by the Wisconsin Economic Development Corp., includes land, site improvements, IT and cooling equipment and electricity. The agency has approved three data centers to date.

Other states have enacted the model legislation at the urging of utilities and industry groups like NetChoice and the Data Center Coalition. NetChoice’s president noted at a legislative hearing that Wisconsin has long provided exemptions on agricultural and manufacturing equipment and asked lawmakers why they couldn’t do the same for America’s capital investment leaders.

Madison-headquartered Alliant Energy helped pay for a study that determined Wisconsin was at a competitive disadvantage to neighboring states. 

The paper estimated that a hyperscale data center developed in the Milwaukee-Waukesha metro region could create 300 jobs, generate $3 million in annual state and local tax revenue and provide more than $87 million in annual economic output.

In a June 2023 hearing, the sales tax exemption bill’s co-sponsor, Rep. Shannon Zimmerman, R-River Falls, said attracting data centers would actually have a “positive effect” on ratepayers’ electric bills from the “consumption and contribution of companies that will build these.”

To qualify for the exemption, a developer must invest at least $50 million to $150 million within five years, depending on the county population.

The state estimated that a typical data center would decrease tax collections by $8.5 million during the initial construction phase, followed by an annual reduction of $735,000. Additionally, if equipment is replaced on a five-year schedule, the sales tax would decrease by an additional $1.6 million on an annualized basis.

Microsoft’s data center campus has inherited additional perks initially designated for Foxconn: discounted electricity rates for Microsoft buildings located within a designated information technology zone. In future phases of Microsoft’s project, the company may purchase Lake Michigan water via the city of Racine, a rare arrangement in light of the Great Lakes Compact, which regulates the use and withdrawal of lake water.

We Energies intends to construct more than $2 billion in natural gas infrastructure, including two new plants and a pipeline, to meet the power demands of Microsoft’s data center, which is its largest anticipated electric load. This prompted concerns that ratepayers will be saddled with the new, fossil-fuel plants if the data center project is scaled back or canceled.

The utility has objected to such concerns, noting that the infrastructure is necessary to increase “reliability, resiliency, and dispatchability” of natural gas for its current customers.

Additionally, it has proposed a new rate structure, known as a tariff, for “very large customers,” which the company developed to meet the Microsoft and Port Washington data centers’ electric needs. 

The rate would assign costs that result from new or expanded power plants and transmission lines along with electricity proportional to data center use, thereby protecting We Energies’ “customers and shareholders from harm.”

Wisconsin’s utility regulator, the Public Service Commission, is reviewing the proposal. We Energies has requested approval by the year’s end.

Tax breaks and electricity discounts: How Wisconsin woos Big Tech is a post from Wisconsin Watch, a non-profit investigative news site covering Wisconsin since 2009. Please consider making a contribution to support our journalism.