The planning commission chair in Upper Merion Township, a suburb roughly 20 miles from Philadelphia, opened a long-awaited session on a major data center plan with a caution suited to the middle school setting.

Do not cause disruptions, Matt Popek warned the crowded room. Anyone interrupting would be removed. He noted that strong opinions were expected.

No one was removed during the four-hour session on Wednesday, yet interruptions were frequent. Shouts, boos, clapping, chants, and sighs echoed throughout.

One speaker asked opponents to stand, and the entire audience rose and cheered. The gathering showed a community standing together against large-scale data centers, the commenter said.

Most frustration targeted Brian O'Neill, the Philadelphia developer leading MLV Ventures. His firm wants to build an AI data center complex spanning more than 4.5 million square feet on five parcels and drawing 500 to 900 megawatts of power, potentially ranking among the largest such facilities in the Northeast.

Size, environmental effects, and limited early details have fueled resident anger since the plan surfaced earlier this year.

Courtney Smith of the local group Upper Merion Against Data Centers said the issue has united people from varied backgrounds.

If community input carries no weight, she asked, what does that say about society. At some point resident voices must matter, she added.

Upper Merion is one of many towns nationwide opposing the massive facilities needed for AI tools from firms such as OpenAI, Anthropic, Meta, Google, and Microsoft.

In these places, resistance unfolds at town halls, schools, and centers where routine planning sessions now draw hundreds. The scene was clear on Wednesday in Upper Merion.

The session grew heated. Developers and officials clashed over missing details. Sarcasm and pointed exchanges marked the evening.

A Packed Auditorium

Despite summer heat, people lined up around 5 p.m., an hour before doors opened and two hours before the meeting start. Opponents handed out signs and stickers outside.

Longtime resident Jen Rae, who lives near one proposed site, voiced worry over constant noise, a frequent complaint about such facilities.

Attendance built slowly at first. By 6 p.m. roughly 35 people sat inside, raising questions about whether opposition had cooled since May.

By start time the room was full.

Applause, Jeers, and a Missing Presentation

Most attendees clearly opposed the project. Developers received cheers when introduced but heckling once they spoke.

One commenter told O'Neill to drop the smile while raising noise concerns. The issue is not data centers themselves, she said, but their placement near homes.

Transparency stood at the center. After the May meeting, officials and residents expected detailed project information. Developers argued the requests went beyond early-stage requirements.

They promised to answer questions yet fell short.

O'Neill's team claimed a PowerPoint had been sent, but the commission never showed it, citing a submission just 10 minutes before the session.

The missing slides became a repeated joke. When pressed for facts, developers often could not recall specifics.

O'Neill once said he could not remember noise figures without the slides and guessed about 50 decibels from memory, calling it like a quiet suburb. The room groaned loudly.

The absent file turned into a running gag that the crowd began to anticipate.

One commission member noted dryly that it was unfortunate the slides were unavailable to support the claims.

Both residents and officials left frustrated. As an observer, the lack of answers was clear.

After public comments, the commission said it would not recommend approval for the first three sites. The final two locations will be discussed in August.

Applause closed the night.