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An excerpt from David Lipsky’s The Parrot and the Igloo: Climate and the Science of Denial
Let’s say you’ve shipped out as a denier.
You’re in it for the action, the dollars, the travel, the fun. And you shade your eyes, glance up at a tall number: 97%, the percentage of active-duty climate researchers who accept man-made climate change.
This is what pollster Frank Luntz understood in 2002. “Voters believe that there is no consensus about global warming,” Luntz wrote, in his famous battle memo. “Should the public come to believe that the scientific issues are settled, their views about global warming will change accordingly.”
And this is what was also understood by Dr. S Fred Singer and Frederick Seitz, two of the graybeard prophets who launched the global-warming skepticism movement in the 1990s, that crucial tipping point in the battle between the warmers and the deniers. A word — a concept, a percentage — was your enemy. And every six years the IPCC, the international climate science body, would stamp along on its five thousand legs and drop down another big dose of consensus. Plant it in the headlines of every newspaper. Here was the spot on the tree to carve your “X.” As you spit in your palms and lifted the axe.
Dr. Singer, an atmospheric physicist who would become one of the world’s most prominent climate deniers, tried twice. The anti-consensus petitions have names: The Leipzig Declaration, the Heidelberg Appeal. They sound like spy movies: lovelorn and crestfallen thrillers starring a tongue-tied Jason Bourne, about the cities where he tried to make his feelings known.
The appeal came first, in 1992. Dr. Singer and an associate helped arrange a conference in Heidelberg, Germany. Scientists were invited to sign a petition.
At first, Dr. Singer called it a “statement.” Time passed, coasts cleared. And he was like a man alone at the breakfast bar, filling his plate. Dr. Singer called it “strongly worded.” Said the appeal “expressed skepticism on the urgency for global action to restrict greenhouse-gas emissions.” That it “urged statesmen to go slow on climate-change policies.”
As it happens, the Heidelberg Appeal never once mentions global warming. It’s very pro-science. It’s just not at all anti-climate science.
But it was a list of science names and got weaponized anyway. When denial Senator James Inhofe quoted the petition in Congress, this is how the message ran. “The Heidelberg Appeal, which says that no compelling evidence exists to justify controls of anthropogenic greenhouse gas emissions. They agree it is a hoax.” Two possibilities: Either the senator had never read the appeal, or he hoped you hadn’t.
Dr. Singer took a firmer hand on the next go-round. New and improved — now with global warming.
This was 1995. Earlier that year, Dr. Singer had sent a fossil fuel company his prospectus. For a very reasonable $95,000, the scientist promised to help “stem the tide towards ever more onerous controls on energy use.”
His hook was ozone. The spray cans that had been phased out, Dr. Singer explained, “all on the basis of quite insubstantial science.”
So if funds were provided “without delay,” Dr. Singer could deliver: an event, a panel, and a round number — “a Statement of Support by a hundred or more climate scientists.” With the Singer specialty: “This Statement could then be quoted or reprinted in newspapers.”
I don’t know whether Dr. Singer ever secured his funding. But that November, a panel did convene: in Leipzig, Germany. And one year later, his Statement did appear: the Leipzig Declaration. With the promised one hundred signatures.
The names crinkled brows. (Harvard’s John Holdren, later science advisor to the Obama White House, wrote of them as a mirage or the dream you reconstruct over breakfast: the list “dissolves under scrutiny.”) Sleuths from Danish Broadcasting attempted to track down the 33 European signers. Four could not be located. Twelve denied signing or even knowing about any Leipzig Declaration. Three were offended to hear their names were associated with it. The Statement had also been signed by dentists, lab techs, engineers, and one off-course entomologist who landed briefly on the page.
But the Leipzig Declaration packed its bags and coast-to-coasted anyway — from the Wall Street Journal to the Orange County Register, migrating also to Canada, London, Scotland, Australia, New Zealand. “It is widely cited by conservative voices,” write journalists Sheldon Rampton and John Stauber. “And is regarded in some circles as the gold standard of scientific expertise on the issue.”
Dr. Singer identifed a hardy, Band of Brothers spirit among his “one hundred climate scientists.” As he explained in the Wall Street Journal, “It takes a certain amount of courage to do this.”
What it didn’t necessarily take was a degree in science. Florida’s Saint Petersburg Times ran their Leipzig story on the front page. Because (a) Florida, sea level. And (b), one signer was a local, the weather guy over at Tampa Bay’s WTVT. Who lacked “a Ph.D. in any scientific field,” the paper noted. “Or, for that matter, a bachelor’s.”
Dr. Singer had met his quota by reaching out to these sportscasters of the air. Twenty-five weathermen signed in, a big klatch from the state of Ohio. This included Richard Groeber, owner and operator of Dick’s Weather Service: you dialed his phone number and he told you the weather.
The Petersburg newshound dialed. Was Dick Groeber, he asked, really a scientist?
“I sort of consider myself so,” Groeber replied. “I had two or three years of training in the scientific area, and 30 or 40 years of self-study.”
The reporter brought his concerns to the keeper of the signatures, Dr. Singer. The scientist’s answer is a testament to the virtue of persistence, of keeping an eye fixed always on the prize. What was truly important, Dr. Singer said, was “the fact that we can demonstrate that 100 or so scientists would put their names down.”
And I wonder if it bothered Dr. Singer. If it’s the story of his outranked life. That for the Oregon Petition — the signature list that did go over the top — the push came from the bigger, better honored, more consequential Fred.
This article was excerpted from David Lipsky’s new book "The Parrot and the Igloo."Courtesy W.W. Norton
I don’t know who took care of the introductions. I do know S. Fred Singer sent Arthur Robinson — a biochemist, five-time Republican nominee for Oregon’s 4th congressional district, and the founder of the Oregon Institute of Science and Medicine, a privately funded lab — material to beef up the research paper that accompanied the Oregon Petition. And I know that the Marshall Institute —— founded by the other Fred, Dr. Seitz, the physicist and tobacco industry consultant Business Week once called the “granddaddy of global-warming skeptics” — dispatched two specialists, climate Sherpas, to lug and guide Arthur along the trickier science crevasses.
One of them was later exposed on the front page of The New York Times. Dr. Willie Soon had been the beneficiary of $1.2 million in fossil fuel largesse. The last of his dinosaur generation to find their way into the tar pits.
“In correspondence with his corporate funders,” the Times reported in 2015, Dr. Soon “described many of his scientific papers as ‘deliverables’ that he completed in exchange for their money.”
And then a beautiful single-sentence short story: capturing the whole project and spirit of denial. “Though often described on conservative news programs as a ‘Harvard astrophysicist,’ Dr. Soon is not an astrophysicist and has never been employed by Harvard.”
Arthur cowrote his paper with the two Dr. Seitz specialists, and a fellow member of the Oregon Institute faculty: his 21-year-old son, Zachary.
This father-son teamwork produced something strange. First, their paper said climate change would not occur. Then, somewhat unexpectedly, it reversed field and explained that the change was already in progress and accomplishing marvels.
Their concluding sentences drop the effort of science entirely. The language pans across streams and meadows — takes in a drowsy summer morning, with the sound of bees. “We are living in an increasingly lush environment of plants and animals,” the Robinsons write, a little dreamily, “as a result of the CO2 increase. Our children will enjoy an Earth with far more plant and animal life than that with which we are now blessed. This is a wonderful and unexpected gift of the Industrial Revolution.”
Arthur’s paper had never been published or peer-reviewed. It was entirely homeschool.
And here’s where you can appreciate the great, freewheeling advantage of having fun. Arthur Robinson and Frederick Seitz collaborated on a tremendous prank.
Arthur had his report professionally printed. Now this home-cooked meal, this sloppy Joe, resembled an entrée at the end of a Food Network episode. The National Academy of Sciences produces one of the world’s most distinguished journals. Garnishing with font and layout, Robinson labored until his blessing looked, in the words of the journal Nature, “exactly like a paper from the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.”
Everybody has the one résumé line they lean on. It’s whispered before you sweep over to shake hands; it will lead the obituaries when you step away forever. Frederick Seitz was the former National Academy president — publishers of the Proceedings journal whose format Arthur had copied.
Dr. Seitz wrote the letter that accompanied the Oregon Petition.
The United States is very close to adopting an international agreement that would ration the use of energy. ... This treaty is, in our opinion, based upon flawed ideas. ...We urge you to sign and return the petition card.
Dr. Seitz signed with his résumé line: Past President, The National Academy of Sciences.
A cover letter from an Academy president. A paper formatted to look exactly as if it had been published in the Academy magazine. (Plus the plural we urge, the institutional in our opinion — the speaking voice of an organization.) Arthur and Seitz had pulled off the greatest soundalike in denial history.
The package was then sent all across America — as one researcher wrote, to “virtually every scientist in every field.” And how could recipients fail to believe, tearing open their envelopes, that the Academy was reaching out to them, at an hour of scientific need?
In 1996, Nature had written about the “dwindling band of skeptics.” You picture palm fronds and breakers, the shoreline from Lord of the Flies: a rocky atoll among rising seas.
This line vexed deniers. It so bugged S. Fred Singer he ascribed it, for ease of attack, to Al Gore. (The scientist loved to attack the vice president.). So the other aim of the petition: to grow the movement, at least in the eyes of key readerships in the Washington metro area.
It really was their weakness: Demographics. Max Planck once made an ice-eyed observation about scientific change. It doesn’t result from fresh evidence, or the Kevlar argument. Positions get too dug in for that. It steals on gradually, in calendars and gravesides. “A new scientific truth does not triumph by convincing its opponents and making them see the light,” the physicist wrote. “But rather because its opponents eventually die, and a new generation grows up that is familiar with it.”
The plain truth was the deniers weren’t getting any younger. Actual science was drawing the young PhDs. (When S. Fred Singer addressed a roomful of such climatologists in the spring of the Oregon Petition, the reception was not hostile. It was charity. His audience “politely pointed to datasets and to scientific research,” wrote science journalist Myanna Lahsen, “none of which Dr. Singer appeared to be familiar with.”) It’s why the great denial work was brought off by Frederick Seitz, 86, and S. Fred Singer, 78; and by Arthur Robinson, aged 56, whose footsteps two-time Nobel Prize laureate Linus Pauling had long ago banished from institutional hallways.
“What will happen is clear,” Arthur told supporters, in a sort of pre-invasion essay, as his envelopes mustered at the post office. “The warmers will be deprived of the central pillar that underlies their entire campaign.”
This was that tall, shade-throwing word: consensus. “Remove their facade of scientific consensus, and they will likely lose — if it is removed in time.”
And it worked. In the House and Senate, lawmakers said the petition proved climate change was “bogus” — a non-issue for “the vast majority” of scientists. (They needed something like it to be true. So they went ahead and believed it into truth.) It worked because it’s a big library, and we’re all busy people. And, as the bibliothecary Jorge Luis Borges once observed, “The person does not exist who, outside their own specialty, is not credulous.”
“Happy Earth Day, Al Gore!” Fred Singer wrote in his Washington Times column. “Your much-touted ‘scientific consensus’ on global warming has just been exposed as phony.” They’d finally found a way to bring down the tree.
In 2001, Scientific American went through Arthur Robinson’s signature books. Present on Arthur’s list were names submitted in a spirit of substitute-teacher abuse. (Arthur told the Associated Press that he had “no way of filtering out a fake.”) There was Shirl E. Cook and Richard Cool and Dr. House, and the presumably dependable Knight and the presumably less steady Dr. Red Wine, also the accommodating Betty Will, the in-terrible-distress W. C. Lust. Also someone who gave their name only as Looney. Plus a dash of celebrity like Michael J. Fox and John Grisham and the dramatis personae of the medical series M*A*S*H. Even some businesses, like R. C. Kannan & Associates, and Glenn Springs Holdings, Inc., had found a way to lift the pen and get involved. Dick Groeber — Dick’s Weather Service — had once again elected to lend the effort the weight of his endorsement. All these names appeared on Arthur’s petition as it was cited in Congress.
Arthur claimed only one false name was ever found to soil his list. (Some jokester had snuck on Dr. Geri Halliwell — Ginger Spice, of the empowerment band Spice Girls.) But post-media, all these names were quietly withdrawn. W. C. Lust and Betty Will and Glenn Springs Holdings, Inc., and Dick’s Weather Service, scrubbed from history.
The names Scientific American examined were real. Barrier to entry was not high. If you claimed a bachelor’s in math, science, or engineering, to Arthur’s way of thinking you were a climate scientist. (Even so, Dick Groeber had no real business being on this list.) Your kid’s math teacher could sign. So could her shop teacher, and the veterinarian.
These names were Styrofoam peanuts, packaging, and brushed aside. Scientific American took “a random sample of 30 of the 1,400 signatories claiming to hold a Ph.D. in a climate-related science.”
Of the 26 names they could identify through the databases, “11 said they still agreed with the petition.” The magazine went on, “One was an active climate researcher, two others had relevant expertise, and eight signed based on an informal evaluation. Six said they would not sign the petition today, three did not remember any such petition, one had died, and five did not answer repeated messages.” The magazine estimated that Arthur had managed about 200 climate researchers — “a small fraction of the climatological community.” Remove number from box, shake off the packaging: What Arthur Robinson and Frederick Seitz had delivered was a sweaty means of confirming the consensus.
And still there were international headlines (“NO SCIENTIFIC CONSENSUS ON GLOBAL WARMING”). And still Frederick Seitz and S. Fred Singer could make their use of the data.
Dr. Seitz told reporters the petition represented “the silent majority of the scientific community.” (Which meant at least 51 laconic percent.) And Dr. Singer called it “the largest group of scientists ever,” as if the petition combined a Caltech homecoming weekend with an especially congested Burning Man.
Arthur kept up the petition drive. Yet among supporters, he couldn’t quite bring himself to call the signers colleagues. The tongue values what it values.
“We’ve got now about 17,000 scien—” Arthur caught himself. “People with degrees in science.” As of 2008, he’d nearly doubled his figure.
S. Fred Singer experienced the same performance trouble. In 2012 he was still quoting it. Because it was the only thing — Arthur had given the movement the strongest evidence it ever had. But even the famously reliable Singer tongue went rogue. “There’s hundreds of us — thousands,” he said on PBS. “Look, 31,000 scientists and engineers signed a statement.” Then the scientist went a bit green. “Look, they’re not specialists in climate.”
But in 1998, when the ground was fresh, Dr. Singer told Congress that signers were “specialists in fields related to global warming.” He told readers, while the issue was being contested, they were “experts in the pertinent scientific fields.”
Arthur’s website gives his patriotic side of the figure. “31,487 American scientists,” he writes. “Including 9,029 Ph.D.s.” You needed a data point, a comparison.
So, for the doctoral number: America is home to half a million science and engineering PhDs. Arthur netted 1.8%. His yield was small. And for the bachelor’s number: We’ve awarded 10 million first degrees in science and engineering. Here Arthur’s petition was an absolute crash: 0.3%.
Arthur again sounded the Academy horn in a press release. “More than 40 signatories are members of the prestigious National Academy of Sciences.” But Arthur had withheld the comparison. The Academy’s got 2,200 members. His yield was eerily consistent: 1.8%. The generally accepted number for climate scientists and warming is 97% to 3%. Arthur’s fate was to spend 25 years as superintendent of a consensus he loathed.
This article was excerpted and condensed from David Lipsky’s book The Parrot and the Igloo: Climate and the Science of Denial, available now from W. W. Norton & Company ©2023.
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On a new loan guarantee, a Nord Stream 2 revival, and AI-aided oil recovery
Current conditions: As Tropical Storm Lorenzo looks likely to dissipate over water by Friday, AccuWeather has slashed the season’s forecast to six hurricanes from nine • Severe thunderstorms near Little Rock, Arkansas, and Memphis, Tennessee, are likely too spotty to relieve long-standing drought in the Mississippi River Basin • The Netrokona district of northeastern Bangladesh is scorching in temperatures nearing 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
A rendering of the future Cascade Advanced Energy Facility. Amazon
A year after Amazon invested in the small modular reactor developer X-energy, the tech giant has unveiled its plans to build a nearly gigawatt-sized plant in southeastern Washington, where it will install the nuclear company’s next-generation technology for the first time. The Cascade Advanced Energy Facility is set to begin construction “by the end of this decade,” with hopes of generating power from up to a dozen of X-energy’s 80-megawatt high-temperature gas-cooled reactors sometime “in the 2030s.” Amazon plans to build the plant in three phases, with four reactors at each stage, eventually reaching 960 megawatts in capacity. Located in Richland, Washington, along the Columbia River, the facility will nearly double the output of the Pacific Northwest’s only nuclear plant, the nearby Energy Northwest’s Columbia Generating Station.
In a sign of what Heatmap’s Katie Brigham called “the nuclear dealmaking boom” back in August, rival microreactor developer Oklo suggested at a recent public meeting in Tennessee that it may propose building some of its reactors near the Oak Ridge site of its debut nuclear waste recycling project, the Knoxville News Sentinel reported Monday. On Tuesday, meanwhile, the U.S. Army announced its new Janus program, which aims to supply bases by 2028 with microreactors like the ones Oklo aims to build, which generate 20 megawatts of electricity or less. The reactors would be owned and operated by private companies. “What resilience means to us is that we have power, no matter what, 24-7,” Jeff Waksman, principal deputy assistant secretary of the Army, told The Wall Street Journal.
The Department of Energy’s Loan Programs Office has largely revoked deals made under the previous administration since President Donald Trump returned to office. But on Thursday morning, the agency’s in-house lender announced a $1.6 billion loan guarantee to a subsidiary of utility giant American Electric Power to upgrade and rebuild about 5,000 miles of transmission lines across Indiana, Michigan, Ohio, Oklahoma, and West Virginia. “This loan guarantee will not only help modernize the grid and expand transmission capacity but will help position the United States to win the AI race and grow our manufacturing base,” Secretary of Energy Chris Wright said in a press release.
The move came a day after a federal judge blocked the Trump administration’s effort to fire thousands of federal workers amid the ongoing government shutdown. At a hearing Wednesday, U.S. District Judge Susan Illston, a Clinton appointee based in California, granted labor unions’ request for a temporary restraining order to halt the dismissals. The hearing took place at the same time White House budget director Russ Vought appeared on the late conservative commentator Charlie Kirk’s podcast to preview his plans to lay off as many as 10,000 federal workers as the shutdown continued. The hearing will pause the job cuts for the roughly 4,000 workers who received notice so far. Illson said during the hearing that she granted the temporary restraining order because administration officials had “taken advantage of the lapse in government spending, government functioning, to assume that all bets are off, that the laws don’t apply to them anymore, and that they can impose the structures that they like on the government situation that they don’t like,” News From The States reported. “Things are being done before they’re thought through — very much ready, fire, aim.” Nearly 200 employees at the Department of Energy began receiving notices last week, as I wrote in yesterday’s newsletter.
The underwater explosion of the Nord Stream 2 pipeline connecting Germany to Russia’s gas supply remains one of the world’s biggest geopolitical whodunnits, and Berlin’s fellow European Union members seem keen to keep it that way. In just the past two days, Poland and Italy blocked extradition requests to send suspected saboteurs to Germany for trial. But the Germans aren’t just looking to figure out who’s responsible for destroying the megaproject. The Federal Ministry for Economic Affairs and Energy is considering restarting the certification process for the pipeline, the daily newspaper Der Tagesspiegel reported Wednesday. The previous German government had ruled out a restart of the pipeline in March after news broke that Russian President Vladimir Putin’s business allies were angling to restore the project. In June, the new government under conservative Chancellor Friedrich Merz began examining legal avenues to block any future plans to reactivate the pipeline, the Financial Times reported at the time. But under current law, the economic ministry said this week a restart “cannot be ruled out in the medium term.”
Ohio passed a new law to fast-track energy projects on former coal mines and brownfields, Canary Media reported Wednesday. Called House Bill 15, the legislation took effect in August and lets the state’s Department of Development designate the former industrial sites as “priority investment areas” at the request of local governments. Roughly a third of Ohio’s 88 counties ban wind, solar, or both, but the language in the bill makes clear that “it was meant to be technology-neutral,” Rebecca Mellino, a climate and energy policy associate at The Nature Conservancy, told Canary’s Kathiann M. Kowalski.
A transition from coal could yield significant health benefits, as The New York Times reported on Tuesday. A recent study found that, when a coal-processing facility near Pittsburgh shut down, the number of emergency room visits for respiratory issues in the surrounding area dropped by about 20% in the month following the closure.
The world’s annual consumption of oil isn’t expected to peak until the mid-2030s, and by 2050 it will reach a cumulative 1 trillion barrels, according to the consultancy Wood Mackenzie’s forecast. But production that’s either already onstream or ready for development is expected to gradually decline to 650 billion barrels per year by the mid century. What will make up the difference? “Traditional exploration will play its part but can’t get anywhere near bridging a gap of this scale,” Wood Mackenzie analysts wrote in a blog post on Wednesday. “Even the 21st century’s biggest new play, Guyana, with 15 billion barrels of oil, barely makes a dent.” To identify potential new resources, Wood Mackenzie rolled out a new AI-powered benchmark called Analogues, which “uses a machine learning method known as clustering to identify each field’s closest matches across 60 different attributes spanning rock properties, fluid characteristics, and commercial factors.” The AI tool could increase the share of recoverable conventional oil reserves by nearly 42%.
A chart showing how the AI "analogues" could bolster oil drilling. Wood Mackenzie
Fusion energy is rapidly accelerating in the U.S., and the Department of Energy is poised to release a national plan for speeding up the deployment of the technology. In the meantime, states can prepare by beefing up regulatory capacity, speeding up permitting, clearing interconnection queues, and creating special tax credits. That’s according to a new roadmap from the Clean Air Task Force. “As fusion energy moves closer to commercial reality, states have a window of opportunity to prepare,” Jack Moore, a fusion policy consultant at CATF, wrote in a blog post. “Proactive policy design today can help states position themselves to create an effective environment for fusion energy deployment tomorrow.”
Editor’s note: This story has been updated accurately reflect oil demand by 2050.
This thing is a certified clunker.
Americans certainly got the message about the end of the EV tax credit. With the $7,500 benefit set to disappear at the end of September, electric vehicle sales surged to record numbers in the third quarter of 2025 as buyers raced to beat the deadline.
The rising tide lifted just about all EVs — but not the struggling Tesla Cybertruck. According to new numbers from Kelley Blue Book, Tesla sold just 5,385 Cybertrucks from July to September, less than half as many as it delivered during the same period in 2024. The company is now expected to sell around 20,000 of the metal EVs this calendar year. That’s down from around 50,000 last year, and less than 10% of the 250,000 total Elon Musk once predicted as the truck’s annual sales figure.
Cybertruck was well on its way to flop status before these sales numbers. With its purposefully jarring aesthetic, the EV for edgelords was never going to be as popular as Musk proclaimed, and that was before his relationship to Donald Trump and online provocations pushed many more people away from the Tesla brand. Cost didn’t help, either. Tesla once said it would sell a $40,000 basic version of Cybertruck, a price point that might have enticed some buyers beyond the Musk fanboys who became early adopters, but the cheapest one you can actually buy today is around $60,000.
Still, the vehicle’s third-quarter performance is particularly damning in comparison to nationwide EV sales, where the tax credit’s demise ignited a fire sale. Americans bought more than 430,000 EVs during the quarter, an increase of about 40% from the second quarter of 2025 and about 30% from the third quarter of last year. Popular vehicles including the Chevy Equinox EV, Hyundai Ioniq 5, Ford Mustang Mach-E, and Honda Prologue surged to sales of more than 20,000 during the quarter. Electric trucks including the Rivian R1T, Ford F-150 Lightning, and GMC Hummer EV saw sales increases despite having high prices that rival the Cybertruck’s.
Tesla itself, despite months of bad press, did well, too. The brand’s share of the overall EV market continues to wane, reaching a new low of 41%. But the surge temporarily stabilized its tumbling sales, with plenty of people snatching up Model 3s and Model Ys while the getting was good. Those two vehicles remained the two best-selling EVs in America, with Tesla selling more than 114,000 Model Ys and more than 53,000 Model 3s.
Yet the good times did nothing to spur driver interest in Cybertruck. In fact, public enthusiasm for the vehicle might be even lower than it seems, because it turns out that one of the top customers for Musk’s electric tank is Musk himself. Electrek reports that his other companies, such as SpaceX and xAI, have been accumulating Cybertrucks as their company cars. Tesla is replacing some of its own fleet with Cybertrucks, as well.
The move makes sense for Musk. Because of weak overall demand, Cybertrucks are sitting idle on lots; selling them to his businesses at least puts them to work. The scheme also might improve the appearance of Tesla’s sales numbers, Electrek speculates. By locking in some of these sales with a downpayment before the end of September, Tesla can deliver Cybertrucks to Musk’s other business in the weeks to come and still get the tax credit on them. The approach could boost sales numbers for a fourth quarter that’s likely to be difficult with the disappearance of the federal incentive.
Now that Cybertruck has become Elon’s Edsel, Tesla’s hopes for an EV sales revival lie largely with the new “Standard” versions of its two best-sellers. These trim levels strip away some of the amenities from the Models 3 and Y to bring their starting prices down to $37,000 and $40,000, respectively. It’s far from clear that this will succeed. Anyone shopping for an EV solely on price could wait for the upcoming new versions of the Nissan Leaf and Chevy Bolt, which are expected to come in at $30,000 or less. The Equinox’s $35,000 starting price, five-grand less than even the budget Model Y crossover, has spurred its recent success.
Still, with 320-plus miles of estimated range and at least some of Tesla’s best features, the budget versions could be compelling cars at those prices. At the very least, they’ll speak to more drivers than the Cybertruck does.
It’s already conquered solar, batteries, and EVs. With a $2 billion new turbine factory in Scotland, it may have set its next target.
Batteries, solar panels, electric vehicles. The story of renewable energy deployment globally is increasingly one of China’s fiercely competitive domestic industries and deep supply chains exporting their immense capacity globally. Now, it may be wind’s turn.
The Chinese turbine manufacturer Ming Yang announced last week that it plans to invest $2 billion in a factory in Scotland. The facility is scheduled to start production in late 2028, churning out offshore wind equipment for use in the United Kingdom, which has over 15 gigawatts of offshore wind capacity, as well as for export, likely in Europe.
The deal comes as China finds itself at a kind of domestic clean energy crossroads, in terms of both supply and demand. On the former, the country has launched a campaign aimed at softening the cutthroat domestic competition, overproduction, and price wars that have defined many of its green industries, especially electric vehicles.
At the same time, China is setting out to alter its electricity markets to put renewable energy on a more market-based footing, while also paying coal-fired power plants to stay on the grid, as University of California, San Diego researcher Michael Davidson explained on a recent episode of Shift Key. These changes in electricity markets will reduce payments to solar and wind producers, making foreign markets potentially more attractive.
“We anticipate Chinese original equipment manufacturers will intensify their push toward international expansion, with Mingyang’s planned investment a signal of this trend,” Morningstar analyst Tancrede Fulop wrote in a note to clients. “This poses a challenge for Western incumbents, as Chinese players can capitalize on their cost advantages in a market driven by price.”
Ironically, Fulop said, the market changes will make the Chinese market more like Europe’s, which has become more price conscious as the market has matured and reductions in cost have slowed or outright stopped. “The transition is expected to make renewable developers increasingly price-sensitive as they seek to preserve project returns, ultimately weighing on wind turbine manufacturers’ profitability,” he wrote.
There’s a “cliff” coming in Chinese renewable energy deployment, Kyle Chan, a postdoctoral researcher at Princeton University, told me. “Overall, the net effect is expected to be a pretty sharp drop, and we’re already starting to see some of the effects of that.”
And turbine manufacturers would not be the first Chinese renewable industry to show up in Europe.
“There’s already an existing model” for Chinese manufacturers to set up shop in Western countries, Chan said. Chinese companies are already planning to manufacture solar modules in France, while Chinese EV maker BYD’s is planning factories in Hungary, Turkey, and potentially Spain.
China as a whole is responsible for over half of all new offshore wind capacity added in 2024, according to Global Energy Monitor, and has been growing at a 41% annual rate for the past five years. The energy intelligence firm Rystad estimates that China will make up 45% of all offshore wind capacity by 2030. Ming Yang itself claims to be behind almost a third of new offshore wind capacity built last year.
Meanwhile, offshore wind projects in the West — especially the United States — have faced the omnicrisis of high interest rates, backed-up supply chains, and Donald Trump. News of Ming Yang’s Scotland factory sent yet another shock through the ailing Western offshore wind market, with shares in the Danish company Vestas down 4% when the market opened Monday.
But with Chinese products and Chinese investment comes controversy and nerves among European political leaders. “There’re questions about tech transfer and job creation,” Chan said. “They also face some security issues and potential political backlash.”
In August, the German asset manager Luxcara announced that it would use Siemens Gamesa turbines for a planned offshore wind project instead of Ming Yang ones after backlash from German defense officials. “We see this as further evidence that a Chinese entry into the European wind market remains challenging,” analysts at Jefferies wrote to clients in August.
They were right to be skeptical — Chinese turbines’ entry into the European market has been long predicted and yet remains unrealized. “China’s increasingly cheap wind turbines could open new markets,” S&P Global Insights wrote in 2022, citing the same cost advantages as Morningstar did in reference to the Ming Yang factory announcement.
“China was already trying to angle into the European market,” Chan told me, seeing it as comparable to the U.S. in size and potentially more open to Chinese investment. “If they were kind of thinking about it before, now it’s gotten a greater sense of commercial urgency because I think the expectation is that their profit margins are really going to get squeezed.”
While China leads the world in building out renewable energy capacity domestically and exporting technology abroad, it has “decided not to decide” on pursuing a rapid, near-term decarbonization, Johns Hopkins University China scholar Jeremy Wallace recently argued in Heatmap.
While that means that the Paris Agreement goals are even farther out of reach, it may be fine for Chinese industries, including wind, as they look to sell abroad.
“Chinese firms have lots of reasons to want to build things abroad: Diversification away from the Chinese market, the zero or negative profits from selling domestically, and geopolitical balancing,” Wallace told me.
“If Brits want to have their citizens making the turbines that will power the country,” Wallace said, “this seems like a reasonable opportunity.”