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Where climate hawks meet China hawks.

Why are relations between China and the United States deteriorating? Why does the global outlook feel like it’s darkening? A few weeks ago, Brian Deese, President Biden’s former top economic aide, offered a theory on Shift Key, the podcast I cohost with Princeton engineering professor Jesse Jenkins.
We started by asking Deese whether the U.S. should import the cheap electric cars that Chinese companies are beginning to churn out by the millions.
He began by politely disputing the premise of our question. It was wrong to assume, he said, that China is a “market-based economy and a market-based actor.” It would even be wrong to assume we’re in “a balanced and sustainable global trading” system.
He continued:
In terms of the global trading system, we have this enormous imbalance because China has this enormous excess savings. And what they’re trying to do to try to solve the acute economic challenges that they face is to plow that into manufacturing with the explicit goal of trying to dominate — not just try to gain competitive edge, but dominate particular industries. And when they do that … they flood markets with cheap goods.
These “excess savings” impose their own burden on the United States, he said, so we can’t just accept the cheaper consumer goods and move on. “We, the recipient countries, end up paying a lot of the cost of those Chinese subsidies and those Chinese policies,” Deese said. “We end up paying by our own industries, our own capabilities being diminished and derogated in a way that they wouldn’t have that imbalance not existed.”
If these ideas seem to you to be coming out of nowhere, you are probably not alone. What could Chinese financial savings have to do with the success of its EV industry? But for people who have followed left-ish-wing arguments about trade and geopolitics over the past few years, what Deese is saying is immediately familiar. He is glossing a set of ideas argued most famously by the 2020 book Trade Wars Are Class Wars, by the finance professor Michael Pettis and the financial journalist Matthew C. Klein.
These ideas are widely understood in the world of heterodox economists who resist neoclassical approaches to the field but have received little airing in the broader press. Yet they are increasingly important to understanding how the Biden administration sees the world. As Dylan Matthews of Vox has noted, the Biden administration can sometimes seem like a perplexing alliance of left-wing economic thinkers and China hawks. The Klein-Pettis book is the intellectual mortar fusing those two camps.
The book’s argument is nuanced and wide-ranging, but here is a brief summary. The global economy, Klein and Pettis argue, suffers from a destabilizing and dangerous imbalance, which, if left unchecked, could spiral into a global war. The cause of this imbalance is that since 1991, a handful of countries — notably China and Germany — have passed policies that depress their workers’ wages. These actions have included higher taxes, welfare cuts, lower environmental standards, and sometimes open graft, but they all achieve the same end: They impose great costs on the working class, artificially suppressing citizens’ income and reducing their quality of life, to the benefit of each country’s industrial leaders.
This, the “class war” of the book’s title, has rippled across the global economy in several ways. It has, first, allowed China and some European countries to build up a disproportionately large share of the world’s manufacturing industries. Since workers there are paid so much less than they would be elsewhere, companies are happy to relocate their factories to profit from cheap costs and (in China) low environmental standards. But because Chinese and German workers are systematically underpaid, they cannot afford what they are producing, thus forcing other countries to buy their artificially cheap finished goods. These are the titular “trade wars.”
This is not the end of the story. According to Klein and Pettis, China’s “class war” policies — such as its hukou system, which has created a roving migrant class within the country who lack access to welfare benefits — has artificially enriched its wealthy elite. These industrialists, executives, and officials cannot spend their money as fast as they earn it, meaning that they must save it. Specifically, they seek to save it in U.S. dollars, the world’s reserve currency, snapping up dollar-denominated bonds, stocks, and mortgages. This, in turn, drives up asset prices and generates artificial credit bubbles in the United States and its ally countries, as the world’s extra cash seeks a productive outlet somewhere in the American economy. And because global demand for U.S. financial products pushes up the cost of a U.S. dollar, it makes any goods produced in America more expensive, which further dings the competitiveness of American manufacturers versus their Chinese or German peers.
In short, over the past few decades, “the world’s rich were able to benefit at the expense of the world’s workers and retirees because the interests of American financiers were complementary to the interests of Chinese and German industrialists,” Klein and Pettis write. But note that there is a destabilizing cyclical mechanic to this story too: As China takes more global manufacturing, its excess savings build up further, which slosh around the global economy and generate larger and larger credit bubbles.
This is what Deese was referring to when he condemned China’s “enormous excess savings,” and this is why he identifies those savings as a key driver of China’s manufacturing boom. In the Klein-Pettis worldview, the underlying cause of the destructive tendency in the global economy is the way that its economy systematically steals from the poor and enriches the wealthy. As Deese told us:
China needs to decide if it loves this unsustainable, unbalanced, in many cases, illegal manufacturing strategy more than it hates the kind of domestic reforms it would actually need to take to boost domestic consumption, produce more balanced growth as it becomes a more mature economy.
This intellectual strain has long been present in the Biden administration’s thinking, but recently it has taken on a new prominence. On Wednesday, Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen warned China against flooding global markets with cheap green technology exports while speaking at a Georgia solar factory. “China’s overcapacity distorts global prices and production patterns and hurts American firms and workers, as well as firms and workers around the world,” she said.
Biden himself has even begun to sound this note. You can see the soft influence of Trade Wars thinking in his promise that Chinese electric vehicles will not overwhelm American automakers. “China is determined to dominate the future of the auto market, including by using unfair practices,” he said in a statement last month. “I’m not going to let that happen on my watch.”
For Klein and Pettis, and presumably for the Biden administration, these “unfair practices” can be relieved only by China allowing the consumption share of its economy to rise. They argue that China must stop plowing money into unsustainable investment projects and instead allow its economy to be piloted by consumers, not party officials.
That this would require revising the country’s political system, which concentrates power in the hands of the economic elite, is what makes it so unlikely. On the other hand, if China fails to reform its system, then the consequences could be even more painful: Klein and Pettis suggest that a similar dynamic among the late-19th century Great Powers led to World War I.
Ultimately, Trade Wars Are Class Wars does not predict what will happen. The authors are clear that America’s and China’s economic growth are not necessarily in conflict; only the current dynamic makes it seem so. But the book also suggests a few ideas that it does not fully articulate — presumably because Pettis, who is a professor at Peking University, lives in Beijing.
The biggest of these is that China’s political economy could metastasize into far more malign forms than it holds today. If you think about a country’s politics and economy as necessarily growing and changing together — its politics taking a form that its economics can tolerate, and vice versa — then China’s politics and economy are not necessarily destined to grow along a consumer-friendly path. Today, China produces more solar panels and electric cars than it can consume, and it must find a way to get rid of them. But there are other lines of business — and political styles — that have a demonically self-disposing tendency.
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The two economic booms resemble each other somewhat. But data centers have a far more dire PR problem.
This is an edition of Heatmap Daily, an evening review of the day’s news written by our executive editor. Sign up for it here.
In Pennsylvania, the governor required data center developers to comply with new restrictions. Texas began its mandatory audit for grid-connected data centers. And Nebraska limited tax incentives for data centers and started a new task force.
In Wisconsin’s governor race, candidates began posturing over who will treat data centers the toughest; in Michigan’s Senate race, the GOP candidate Mike Rogers called for a statewide moratorium on them. A Politico analysis found that of the more than 100 campaign ads mentioning data centers this election, none have put the technology in a positive light.
It makes sense, then, that when Heatmap published its most recent polling on data centers — finding that 75% of Americans oppose their local development — it seemed to blow up. But there’s one aspect of that polling that I want to discuss here, because I think it has been underacknowledged.
It’s this: According to our polling, data centers are about as unpopular in urban areas as rural areas. They’re slightly less unpopular in the suburbs.
The differences in disapproval, to be clear, aren’t enormous. Local data center development is 63 points underwater in rural areas and 60 points underwater in urban areas. That’s close enough to our poll’s 2.3% margin of error that it may just be noise. Even in the suburbs, data center development is 58 points underwater — a small distinction.
But it represents a big shift from the political geography of recent decades, where cities and rural areas have tended to disagree profoundly over policy. Since the 2000 election or so, cities have elected Democrats, rural areas have picked Republicans, and then the parties have fought over the suburbs.
Data centers, however, appear to unite these two partisan bases against some of the country’s largest companies — and some of our political systems’ odder ducks. Heatmap’s polling earlier this year found that AI YIMBYs tend to be urban, largely Trump-voting men who are optimistic about technology. And in March, the Republican pollster Echelon Insights found that some of data centers’ biggest fans were MAGA Republicans with graduate degrees living in cities.
These results help explain why Republicans have suddenly turned on a dime against data centers: Their base has rejected it. As a political reporter friend put it to me, after looking at our data, you don’t want to be on the wrong side of a trend that’s uniting college-educated and non-college-educated Americans.
In trying to understand this transition, I’ve tried to think about other technologies that have undergone similar investment booms in recent American history. One oft-made comparison is fracking, which expanded quickly across the country in the 2010s. Many commentators — myself included — have suggested that data centers may follow fracking’s example, where blue states ban a new type of economic activity and red states welcome it. The red (and sometimes purple) states then get to reap much of the resulting economic growth — and the tax receipts — while everyone has to deal with the emissions. The revelation that data centers are driving a new natural gas boom only deepens the link.
But there’s one big problem with that analogy: Fracking was never this unpopular. While fracking has rarely commanded a large majority of support among the mass public, its popular nadir came in spring 2020, when 60% of Americans told Pew that they opposed an expansion of fracking. (Its popularity began to recover after President Biden took office — a classic case of thermostatic public opinion.)
In every poll that we could find at Heatmap, too, expanding fracking always commanded a majority of Republican support. Throughout the 2010s and 2020s, rank-and-file Republicans have wanted to “drill, baby, drill.” But they don’t seem to want to “compute, baby, compute.” And that means — among other things — energy and climate analysts like me need to find another analogy.
Temperatures are high, but electricity drama is low.
The Texas summer isn’t over — highs today are forecasted to be at or above 100 degrees Fahrenheit in much of the state — but so far the state’s grid has held up.
In the past month or so, Texas’ grid has hit a number of generation records, according to data collected by Grid Status. Those include its highest load ever (91,308 megawatts on July 22), its highest level of renewables generation (53,000 megawatts on August 13), maximum wind output (29,000 megawatts on June 29) and, most notably, its maximum battery discharge (some 13,256 megawatts earlier this week, on August 23, at 7:45 p.m.).
And all the while, the grid has been stable, which is by no means guaranteed in Texas.
The state’s grid operator, ERCOT, has not issued a single “conservation appeal” so far this summer, asking Texans to voluntarily reduce electricity consumption to support the grid. By contrast, in 2023, the grid manager issued six between August 24 and August 30.
Those conservation appeals were almost always given for the late afternoon and early evening, when demand typically peaks thanks to demand from workers returning home and cranking up their air conditioning. That’s also when the grid has to ramp up dispatchable resources quickly to compensate for solar falling off the grid as the sun sets.
“We’re really seeing peak demand divorced from peak prices,” Joshua Rhodes, research scientist at the University of Texas, told me. This means that when demand is at its highest on a summer day — say around 4 p.m. this past Monday, when load was over 90 gigawatts — real-time prices were about $46 per megawatt-hour, according to Grid Status. At that time, natural gas made up about 42% of the grid and solar 36%. Compare that to the same time in 2023, when real-time prices were $85 per megawatt-hour during peak usage times and wind and solar combined made up around 20% of the grid.
As Abby Lestina, principal market analyst at Grid Status, put it to me, “The lack of pricing action would lead to the conclusion that the grid is more stable.”
Another positive side effect of that stability is that batteries on the system can still charge even when demand is at its highest, and then discharge in the evening to help make up for lost solar. “Even when we were setting peak demand records, we’re still on net charging batteries, which at first blush feels so wrong,” Rhodes told me. “We have so much solar on the system that we’re charging batteries when prices are low, getting ready to discharge as the sun goes down before the wind picks back up.”
Let’s take Monday as an example again: At 7:50 p.m., when solar was down to just 1.5% of the mix on the grid, batteries were discharging 11,573 megawatts and real-time prices were around $125 per-megawatt-hour. On the same Monday of 2023, real-time prices at 7:50 p.m. were bouncing up and down from just below the statutory peak of $5,000 per megawatt hour and batteries were putting out just over a gigawatt.
“Because we have so much battery capacity online, it hasn’t been all that exciting,” Olivier Beaufils, head of US central at Aurora Energy Advisors, told me, referring to the hand-off from solar to batteries. “The price action, it’s like 150 bucks, not thousands, and that’s really because of this battery capacity.”
Texas is also aided by friendly geography — there are extensive solar projects in the western part of the state, while the load is largely in the Texas Triangle in the eastern part of the state, giving solar panels an extra hour or so to serve high demand later in the day.
Average electricity bills in Texas, an energy-hungry state, sat at $252 a month in July, according to Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub, up just 2.3% in the past year, while rates are virtually unchanged at 16 cents per kilowatt-hour.
Along with California’s CAISO, ERCOT dominates battery deployment in the United States. According to the energy consulting firm GridLab, “ERCOT alone has deployed nearly 10 times more storage than PJM, MISO, SPP, and the Southeast combined.”
If anything, Texas’ solar and grid battery industries have been a victim of their own success. In Texas, where battery projects are brought online by investors seeking profits in the energy markets, generators make money by selling when prices are high. The same lower prices that show batteries are making the grid more stable are also revenues that battery operators are no longer getting.
“We’ve added so much battery capacity that they’ve cannibalized, they’ve eaten their own lunch,” Beaufils told me. “The situation’s a bit difficult for those operators.” California’s battery storage sector, by contrast, originated with a state mandate for utilities, jumpstarting the industry by force.
Of course, these types of cycles are nothing new to the energy business, especially in Texas.
“ERCOT’s characterized by these boom-bust cycles, and so the market’s never perfectly going to be in a supply-demand equilibrium,” Kevin Lee, head of advisory services for the central U.S. at Aurora Energy Research, told me. “Sometimes you have a little bit less capacity than you need, sometimes a little bit more. But generally, whenever you have a little bit less, the price signals go up, and then that’s driving more investment.”
While Texas still leads the country in battery additions so far this year, other states besides California are beginning to catch up, including Arizona. Thankfully, there’s still more sun yet to store.
Voltpost announced two new models today designed to mount on walls and ceilings.
Voltpost, the company putting electric vehicle chargers on lampposts, is now expanding to parking garages.
On Wednesday, the company unveiled two new configurations that can attach to the walls and ceilings of parking garages, lots, and other locations without easy access to streetlights or utility poles. Like Voltpost’s signature pole-mounted design, the ceiling- and wall-mounted options avoid the expensive construction work required by freestanding charging infrastructure. In theory at least, that should allow the company to deploy more chargers faster.
“Our mission has always been to decarbonize mobility by democratizing charging access,” Jeff Prosserman, Voltpost’s co-founder and CEO, told me. “And the real value proposition is that, when you can leverage the existing infrastructure, you can significantly reduce the cost, the timeline, and the physical footprint of chargers.”
The second Trump administration hasn’t made things easy. Almost immediately after taking office, Trump officials began slashing Biden-era programs designed to support the EV charging buildout, including the National Electric Vehicle Infrastructure and Charging and Fueling Infrastructure programs. Along with a handful of environmental groups, 17 states sued in May of last year to force the federal government to release NEVI funding and quickly received a preliminary injunction unfreezing the program. A similar group sued in December over the CFI funding, and though that case is still pending, Prosserman told me he expects to see a positive resolution before the end of the year.
Though the death of the EV tax credit has shrunk its addressable market, Voltpost has emerged relatively unscathed. “Honestly, that doesn’t really impact us at all,” Prosserman told Heatmap’s Katie Brigham last year. “At the end of the day, EV adoption will either increase X or Y percent in a given year, but it’s going to continue to increase year over year. We’re past the tipping point, going from early adopters into the mainstream.”
That said, he also told Katie that the company was taking a “more conservative approach” to growth as climate tech investment dried up. Voltpost itself also received several federal grants that are still in limbo. Instead, the company focused on its strategic partnerships with the likes of AT&T and Zipcar, and in July signed an agreement with InCharge Energy to handle installation and maintenance. To date, Voltpost’s funders include RWE Energy Transition Investments, a private equity vehicle within German energy giant RWE, alongside Twynam Funds Management, Exelon Foundation, Good News Ventures, and Climate Capital.
Like its lamppost chargers, Voltpost’s wall- and ceiling-mount kits work with Tesla and non-Tesla vehicles alike, and come with demand management software that responds to electricity time-of-use price signals to enable cheaper charging where and when possible. As for the cost of the kits and how many the company plans to install initially, Prosserman wouldn’t say.
Since deploying its first lamppost chargers in New York in 2024, Voltpost has expanded into California, Massachusetts, and Washington, D.C., among other states. It has more than 100 deployments in the pipeline through the end of this year, and is aiming for 10,000 by 2030. The point, Prosserman told me, is not to stand out in these communities, but rather to fit in.
“It’s not going to be just about greenfield project development if we’re going to decarbonize a planet across all aspects,” Prosserman said. “We’re really looking at building something that’s integrated, that fits in the fabric of the built environment and communities.”