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You’ve probably noticed — even Trump has noticed — but the reason why is as complicated as the grid itself.

You’re not imagining things: Electricity prices are surging.
Electricity rates, which have increased steadily since the pandemic, are now on a serious upward tear. Over the past 12 months, power prices have increased more than twice as fast as inflation, according to recent government data. They will likely keep rising in years to come as new data centers and factories connect to the power grid.
That surge is a major problem for the economy — and for President Trump. On the campaign trail, Trump vowed to cut Americans’ electricity bills in half within his first year in office. “Your electric bill — including cars, air conditioning, heating, everything, your total electric bill — will be 50% less. We’re going to cut it in half,” he said.
Now Trump has mysteriously stopped talking about that pledge, and on Tuesday he blamed renewables for rising electricity rates. Even Trump’s Secretary of Energy Chris Wright has acknowledged that costs are doing the opposite of what the president has promised.
Trump’s promise to cut electricity rates in half was always ridiculous. But while his administration is likely making the electricity crisis worse, the roots of our current power shock did not begin in January.
Why has electricity gotten so much more expensive over the past five years? The answer, despite what the president might say, isn’t renewables. It has far more to do with the part of the power grid you’re most familiar with: the poles and wires outside your window.
Before we begin, a warning: Electricity prices are weird.
In most of the U.S. economy, markets set prices for goods and services in response to supply and demand. But electricity prices emerge from a complicated mix of regulation, fuel costs, and wholesale auction. In general, electricity rates need to cover the costs of running the electricity system — and that turns out to be a complicated task.
You can split costs associated with the electricity system into three broad segments. The biggest and traditionally the most expensive part of the grid is generation — the power plants and the fuels needed to run them. The second category is transmission, which moves electricity across long distances and delivers it to local substations. The final category is distribution, the poles and wires that get electricity the “the last mile” to homes and businesses. (You can think of transmission as the highways for electricity and distribution as the local roads.)
In some states, especially those in the Southeast and Mountain West, monopoly electricity companies run the entire power grid — generation, transmission, and distribution. A quasi-judicial body of state officials regulates what this monopoly can do and what it can charge consumers. These monopoly utilities are supposed to make long-term decisions in partnership with these state commissions, and they must get their permission before they can raise electricity rates. But when fuel costs go up for their power plants — such as when natural gas or oil prices spike — they can often “pass through” those costs directly to consumers.
In other states, such as California or those in the Mid-Atlantic, electricity bills are split in two. The “generation” part of the bill is set through regulated electricity auctions that feature many different power plants and power companies. The market, in other words, sets generation costs. But the local power grid — the infrastructure that delivers electricity to customers — cannot be handled by a market, so it is managed by utilities that cover a particular service area. These local “transmission and distribution” utilities must get state regulators’ approval when they raise rates for their part of the bill.
The biggest driver of the power grid’s rising costs is … the power grid itself.
Historically, generation — building new power plants, and buying the fuel to run them — has driven the lion’s share of electricity rates. But since the pandemic, the cost of building the distribution system has ballooned.
Electricity costs are “now becoming a wires story and less of an electrons story,” Madalsa Singh, an economist at the University of California Santa Barbara, told me. In 2023, distribution made up nearly half of all utility spending, up from 37% in 2019, according to a recent Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory report.

Where are these higher costs coming from? When you look under the hood, the possibly surprising answer is: the poles and wires themselves. Utilities spent roughly $6 billion more on “overhead poles, towers, and conductors” in 2023 than in 2019, according to the Lawrence Berkeley report. Spending on underground power lines — which are especially important out West to avoid sparking a wildfire — increased by about $4 billion over the same period.
Spending on transformers also surged. Transformers, which connect different circuits on the grid and keep the flow of electricity constant, are a crucial piece of transmission and distribution infrastructure. But they’ve been in critically short supply more or less since the supply chain crunch of the pandemic. Utility spending on transformers has more than doubled since 2019, according to Wood Mackenzie.
At least some of the costs are hitting because the grid is just old, Singh said. As equipment reaches the end of its life, it needs to be upgraded and hardened. But it’s not completely clear why that spike in distribution costs is happening now as opposed to in the 2010s, when the grid was almost as old and in need of repair as it was now.
Some observers have argued that for-profit utilities are “goldplating” distribution infrastructure, spending more on poles and wires because they know that customers will ultimately foot the bill for them. But when Singh studied California power companies, she found that even government-run utilities — i.e. utilities without private investors to satisfy — are now spending more on distribution than they used to, too. Distribution costs, in other words, seem to be going up for everyone.
Sprawling suburbs in some states may be driving some of those costs, she added. In California, people have pushed farther out into semi-developed or rural land in order to find cheaper housing. Because investor-owned utilities have a legal obligation to get wires and electricity to everyone in their service area, these new and more distant housing developments might be more expensive to connect to the grid than older ones.
These higher costs will usually appear on the “transmission and distribution” part of your power bill — the “wires” part, if it is broken out. What’s interesting is that as a share of total utility investment, virtually all of the cost inflation is happening on the distribution side of that ledger. While transmission costs have fluctuated year to year, they have hovered around 20% of total utility investment since 2019, according to the Lawrence Berkeley Labs report.
Higher transmission spending might eventually bring down electricity rates because it could allow utilities to access cheaper power in neighboring service areas — or connect to distant solar or wind projects. (If renewables were driving up power prices as the president claims, you might see it here, in the “transmission” part of the bill.) But Charles Hua, the founder and executive director of the think tank PowerLines, said that even now, most utilities are building out their local grids, not connecting to power projects that are farther away.
The second biggest driver of higher electricity costs is disasters — natural and otherwise.
In California, ratepayers are now partially footing the bill for higher insurance costs associated with the risk of a grid-initiated wildfire, Sam Kozel, a researcher at E9 Insight, told me. Utilities also face higher costs whenever they rebuild the grid after a wildfire because they install sensors and software in their infrastructure that might help avoid the next blaze.
Similar stories are playing out elsewhere. Although the exact hazards vary region by region, some utilities and power grids have had to pay steep costs to rebuild from disasters or prevent the likelihood of the next one occurring.
In the Southeast, for instance, severe storms and hurricanes have knocked out huge swaths of the distribution grid, requiring emergency line crews to come in and rebuild. Those one-time, storm-induced costs then get recovered through higher utility rates over time.
Why have costs gone up so much this decade? Wildfires seem to grow faster now because of climate change — but wildfires in California are also primed to burn by a century of built-up fuel in forests. The increased disaster costs may also be partially the result of the bad luck of where storms happen to hit. Relatively few hurricanes made landfall in the U.S. during the 2010s — just 13, most of which happened in the second half of the decade. Eleven hurricanes have already come ashore in the 2020s.
Because fuel costs are broadly seen as outside a utility’s control, regulators generally give utilities more leeway to pass those costs directly through to customers. So when fuel prices go up, so do rates in many cases.
The most important fuel for the American power grid is natural gas, which produces more than 40% of American electricity. In 2022, surging demand and rising European imports caused American natural gas prices to increase more than 140%. But it can take time for a rise of that magnitude to work its way to consumers, and it can take even longer for electricity prices to come back down.
Although natural gas prices returned to pre-pandemic levels by 2023, utilities paid 30% more for fuel and energy that year than they did in 2019, according to Lawrence Berkeley National Lab. That’s because higher fuel costs do not immediately get processed in power bills.
The ultimate impact of these price shocks can be profound. North Carolina’s electricity rates rose from 2017 to 2024, for instance, largely because of natural gas price hikes, according to an Environmental Defense Fund analysis.
The final contributor to higher power costs is the one that has attracted the most worry in the mainstream press: There is already more demand for electricity than there used to be.
A cascade of new data centers coming onto the grid will use up any spare electron they can get. In some regions, such as the Mid-Atlantic’s PJM power grid, these new data centers are beginning to drive up costs by increasing power prices in the capacity market, an annual auction to lock in adequate supply for moments of peak demand. Data centers added $9.4 billion in costs last year, according to an independent market monitor.
Under PJM’s rules, it will take several years for these capacity auction prices to work their way completely into consumer prices — but the process has already started. Hua told me that the power bill for his one-bedroom apartment in Washington, D.C., has risen over the past year thanks largely to these coming demand shocks. (The Mid-Atlantic grid implemented a capacity-auction price cap this year to try to limit future spikes.)
Across the country, wherever data centers have been hooked up to the grid but have not supplied or purchased their own around-the-clock power, costs will probably rise for consumers. But it will take some time for those costs to be felt.
In order to meet that demand, utilities and power providers will need to build more power plants, transmission lines, and — yes — poles and wires in the years to come. But recent Trump administration policies will make this harder. The reconciliation bill’s termination of wind and solar tax credits, its tariffs on electrical equipment, and a new swathe of anti-renewable regulations will make it much more expensive to add new power capacity to the strained grid. All those costs will eventually hit power bills, too, even if it takes a few years.
“We're just getting started in terms of price increases, and nothing the federal administration is doing ‘to assure American energy dominance’ is working in the right direction,” Kozel said. “They’re increasing all the headwinds.”
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Today’s top-of-the-line electric vehicles are self-driving computers on wheels built to feel as futuristic and digital as possible. They come with artificial intelligence-powered assistants, enormous touchscreen interfaces, and huge batteries.
The Slate pickup truck’s signature feature? Hand-crank windows.
As Slate Auto has developed its attempt at the bare-bones EV over the past couple of years, its 1990s-nostalgic manual windows became a symbolic choice, one meant to signal just how far it was willing to go in pursuit of affordability. On Wednesday, Slate gave us a fuller picture, revealing the details about its vehicle and providing a glimpse at how the Jeff Bezos-backed startup plans to sell an EV truck at an entry-level price. But while the pickup’s lack of power windows or a built-in stereo system are attention-grabbers, a lot of the savings lie under the skin.
Just how cheap is it? The “Blank Slate,” a version of the truck with zero bells and whistles, starts a hair under $25,000. This is a compact truck in the spirit of decades past, with two seats up front and nothing more. For a Slate that seats more than a couple, choose the SUV or fastback configuration that bumps up the price to about $30,000 or $32,000, respectively.

From there, Slate’s à la carte model takes over. Choosing a wrap to make your whole truck a color other than gray costs $499, though blessedly, Slate provides dozens of color choices as opposed to the handful of neutrals and muted colors offered on a typical new car. The portal to design one’s Slate becomes a rabbit hole of possible choices — custom taillight designs, roof racks, and wheels — all of which add a little or a lot to the price of the truck. These add-ons can quickly propel a Slate deep into the mid- or even high-$30,000s range if you’re not careful. The point, though, is that the $25,000 EV is front and center.
To achieve this starting price required a heavy dose of vintage or simplified tech. Roll-down windows and no built-in stereo speak to drivers who aren’t automotive engineering experts. But as reviewers and online commenters have noted, crank windows aren’t a make-or-break money-saver — they might knock off $20 or $40 per vehicle — and so few companies use them now that Slate had to go out of its way to source them from Brazil.

A bigger cost-cutter was Slate’s embrace of old-school manufacturing and its willingness to consider “yestertech” that’s still perfectly serviceable, but has fallen out of use because better systems have come along. The chassis, for example, is made of ordinary steel — 250 pieces welded together as opposed to the more efficient stamping methods that have taken over automotive manufacturing. While Slate has a familiar, inexpensive MacPherson suspension up front, its rear uses a design called the De Dion that dates back to the late 1800s. (The Autopian has a nice technical write-up about why this choice makes sense.)
We often default to calling EVs smartphones on wheels because of the Tesla approach to making them — the so-called software-defined vehicle that routes its main functions through touchscreen interfaces and gets new features via over-the-air updates. So perhaps a comparison to the phone industry is apt. In the same way budget-conscious buyers were waiting for Apple to make the “affordable iPhone,” drivers have been waiting for the automakers to roll out the entry-level EV. But instead of the cheap Tesla, what we got is the Slate, which is something more like a flip phone on wheels.
That’s not to say it won’t succeed. Flip phones are enjoying a resurgence, after all, powered by their low price and by growing dissatisfaction with life in this age of touchscreens. But Slate’s unusual position in the car industry makes it difficult to predict how American drivers will respond. For those shopping solely on price, Slate may not measure up. The cheapest gas-powered cars in America include the likes of the Toyota Corolla, Hyundai Elantra, and Volkswagen Jetta, and their starting price in the mid-$20,000s includes the basic creature comforts you’d expect from a modern car, not to mention seating for at least four. In a world that still had the $7,500 federal tax credit for buying an EV, the Slate would undercut these gas-burners. In this world, it can’t (though you could add a slew of options to the Slate before it would cost the same as the $35,000 electric truck under development at Ford’s skunkworks operation).

What Slate has going for it, though, is its ability to become the exact car you’d like. Normal cars come with three or four “trim levels,” each of which adds a thousand dollars or two in exchange for more features. In practice, many people are stuck with whatever version they can actually track down at a dealership. Slate follows the Tesla-Rivian model of direct-to-consumer sales, and its trademark customizability means buyers are limited to picking from two or three versions of a car, but can design every single piece of their truck.
To be sure, lots of people don’t want this. Many are presumably happier buying a car off the familiar lot without the mental overload of choosing every single thing about their vehicle. The question is whether a quorum of drivers are ready for a new way to buy a car — or at least, so fed up with fluctuating gas prices and the out-of-control prices of new vehicles that they’re ready to take a chance on rolling their windows again.
Current conditions: France just recorded its hottest day ever, with Wednesday’s temperatures soaring to just under 111 degrees Fahrenheit; nearly 50 people died drowning while seeking respite from the heat • A pair of 7.1-magnitude earthquakes struck Venezuela, collapsing buildings in Caracas • Wind has whipped the Cottonwood Fire, one of six wildfires raging in Utah, into a larger blaze now covering 60,000 acres — and it’s still at 0% containment.
New Jersey Representative Frank Pallone, the ranking Democrat on the House Energy and Commerce committee, joined calls for a national moratorium on data center construction ahead of Wednesday afternoon’s markup of a series of bills related to the buildout of infrastructure to support artificial intelligence software. In a statement, Pallone described the bills as a “useful first step,” but one that, “compared to the challenges the American power grid is facing,” amounts to “not nearly enough.” Rather, he backed a “national AI data center moratorium until we can find a way to ensure they don’t harm our nation’s air, water, and power bills.” Pallone’s new public position makes him one of the highest-ranking Democrats yet to back the idea, championed by the likes of Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, of halting permitting on new data centers in response to the growing blowback from voters.
Pallone’s shift comes in response to the Ratepayer Protection Act, which would enshrine into law the voluntary pledge tech companies signed with the White House to pay for grid costs from their server farms. Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin wrote earlier this week that the bill was “not so much an anti-artificial intelligence or anti-data center bill, but rather a move to insulate further data center development from political pressure stemming from rising electricity costs.” When Pallone made his statement a day later, Matthew wrote: “Well, at least one influential lawmaker seems to agree with me.”
The Iran War has cost the average American car owner an extra $156 and the average SUV driver another $232 in gasoline costs, according to new data from the policy shop Third Way. But the newly mapped analysis, shared exclusively with me, shows that Republican-leaning states in the Mountain West and beyond paid some of the highest prices for a conflict. Alaska saw one of the biggest spikes, with gas prices rising by $1.40 per gallon, a 39% increase. Wyoming followed close behind, with prices soaring by $1.37 per gallon, a 50% surge. Prices in Utah, meanwhile, climbed by $1.30, or 47%. That stands in contrast to many big Democratic-leaning states. New York’s gas prices rose by $1.23, or 41%, while California’s prices went up $0.94, or 20%. That, of course, doesn’t reflect where the prices were already high. I just returned this week from a trip to Los Angeles, where gas was nearly twice as expensive as in New York City.
Century Aluminum, America’s largest primary aluminum producer and the developer behind the first new U.S. smelter in 50 years, has inked a deal with a green cement startup to supply a key raw material. Brimstone, known as a major player in the race to commercialize green cement, also generates alumina. On Wednesday, the startup unveiled a memorandum of understanding with Century Aluminum to establish a domestic “mine to metal supply chain” for aluminum made from scratch rather than scrap. “Foreign sources, including China, currently dominate global alumina production. Brimstone is bringing alumina production home and doing it at a globally competitive price,” Brimstone CEO Cody Finke said in a press release. “Brimstone is upending the massive global imbalance by producing alumina from rock quarried here in the United States.”
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Until the nation’s flagship reactor project came online and transformed Southern Company’s Alvin W. Vogtle Generating Station in eastern Georgia into America’s most powerful atomic electrical plant, Arizona’s Palo Verde Generating Station was the No.1 nuclear facility by size in the country. The desert state is now looking to reclaim its mantle. The trio of utilities Arizona Public Service, Salt River Project, and Tucson Electric Power said Wednesday they are continuing “to work together to explore adding nuclear generation in Arizona.” The next step, the companies said, is a siting study that’s expected to be completed within the next six months. The Arizona Corporation Commission, the regulator in charge of utilities in the state, is holding an informational workshop today.
Meanwhile, the developer behind Canada’s flagship reactor design — which, because it’s cooled with pressurized heavy water, can run on raw uranium — just submitted initial paperwork to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission to start the licensing process to approve what’s known as the CANDU. Pronounced CAN-do and produced by manufacturer AtkinsRéalis, the reactor is the workhorse of the Canadian and Indian fleets and can be built reliably, but requires more maintenance than the light water reactors that run on enriched uranium and make up the entire U.S. fleet. “As the United States enters a new chapter in its civilian nuclear program, AtkinsRéalis is uniquely positioned, as the steward of CANDU technology, to help advance the country’s ambitious energy policy through proven, low-cost reactor technology with a world-class reputation,” Ian L. Edwards, the company’s president and chief executive, said in a statement. As I told you last month, the CANDU is at the heart of Canada’s new nuclear strategy.

The world needs a lot more copper. And while siting and building new mines takes time, two of the planet’s biggest producers are preparing to increase production at existing mines. On Wednesday, London-based Anglo American and the Chilean state-owned Codelco inked a deal to increase production through a joint venture at Los Bronces and Andina copper mines in the South American nation. The joint mining plan is expected to unlock 2.7 million metric tons of additional copper over a 21-year period, delivering an average of 12,000 tons per year. The increase comes with “minimal capital investment” and should bring the new supply online by 2030. “This agreement represents a more efficient and responsible way to develop one of the world’s leading copper districts,” Bernardo Fontaine, Codelco’s chairman, said in a statement. “It allows us to make better use of existing infrastructure, capture greater benefits for Chile, and move forward with a long-term vision based on operational excellence, sustainability, and the responsible use of resources.”
If green hydrogen is the stuff made with clean electricity and water and blue hydrogen is made with natural gas equipped with carbon capture, then the orange stuff is found in underground rock formations where naturally occurring gas forms and then is encouraged to continue forming through artificial means. Heatmap’s Katie Brigham did a good job of explaining the concept here. Well, now a French renewables developer FDE is promising to start producing orange hydrogen “by late 2028 or early 2029” after finding a naturally-occurring underground reservoir in northern France that can be tapped and stimulated to produce additional fuel, Hydrogen Insight reported.
How China saved the world from $200 oil.
Turn your mind back to early March, soon after Iran announced that it was closing the Strait of Hormuz. Energy experts told us to expect calamity.
Roughly 20% of the world’s oil and liquified natural gas supply moved through the narrow waterway, they said, and we would not soon be able to replace it. Oil prices would rocket to $150 or $200 a barrel. The world faced the worst energy supply shock in history.
We braced ourselves. We waited. And then … it didn’t happen.
Sure, the global oil benchmark rose to about $115 a barrel. Energy prices increased everywhere, and Southeast Asia faced a real crunch. But the worst consequences never hit. Europe didn’t run out of jet fuel, we didn’t get $8 gas across the United States, and the global economy did not shut down. Why?
We can now say with confidence: China bailed us out (and itself out, too). Without fanfare, the country slashed its energy imports and conducted a massive release from its strategic stockpiles of crude oil and liquid fuels. It eliminated something like 5 million daily barrels of oil demand, or about 5% of global oil demand.
Although it might seem technical, the implications of that silent intervention are huge for geopolitics, climate policy, and the future of the oil market. That’s why it’s the topic of today’s episode of Shift Key, Heatmap’s podcast. I encourage you to listen to my conversation with oil analyst Rory Johnston as he walks me through the wonky details — how we know China did this (math and satellite imagery), whether it has a modern precedent (it doesn’t), and what it all means (potentially a lot). He calls this public discovery of China’s latent power “the most important thing” we learned from the Iran war.
Anyway, I won’t ruin the conversation. (You can listen to Shift Key for free on any podcast platform, by the way.) But I do want to mull some of the implications here. The most important, to my mind, has to do with market power.
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In oil markets, we often talk about “swing producers.” Saudi Arabia and other OPEC+ countries can shift the global oil price not just because they oversee a large share of the world’s oil production, but also because they can flex domestic production at will. They can increase or decrease their own output to affect the global marginal barrel’s price, stabilizing prices (or hiking them) as needed. (This originates partly from geological luck; Saudi Arabia’s reserves seem particularly well suited to rapid ramp-ups or ramp-downs in drilling and pumping.)
That suggests a mirrored role: a “swing consumer.” What if a country had such large oil stockpiles that it could ramp up or ramp down its imports at will, such that it could move global demand for oil at the margin? Such a thing has never existed in the history of the global oil market, at least to my knowledge. America has experimented with mini-versions of this idea in the past; the Biden administration released oil from the Strategic Petroleum Reserve in 2022 to depress prices after Russia invaded Ukraine. Outside of oil, China already plays a similar role in many global mineral markets, single-handedly shifting global prices for iron, lithium, copper, and other commodities.
But China's actions over the past few months suggest that its domestic oil stockpiles might now be so big that the country can play a swing role in global liquid fuels markets. After President Trump announced that he had reached a deal with Iran, I reflected in this newsletter on the fact that the world now had two energy systems, at least in the transport sector: a legacy liquid fuels system and a rival electricity system. These systems’ supply is divided among the world’s powers. The U.S. is the largest oil and gas producer in the world, but China is the largest manufacturer of solar panels, EVs, and batteries.
Yet if China is also now the world's swing consumer of oil, it suggests the country now has much more influence over the world’s most critical energy inputs in any form — fossil, electric, or mineral — than we had once thought. That isn’t my only Heatmap-relevant takeaway from the Iran war. But it is one I suspect we will remember for years to come.