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Two U.S.-based companies are betting on lithium-sulfur to compete with China.

By the time the Swedish battery giant Northvolt declared bankruptcy last month, a well-funded U.S. startup, Lyten, had already swooped in to snatch up the company’s previously shuttered Bay Area factory. With China flooding the market with its cheap lithium-ion tech, Lyten is betting that creating a fully domestic battery supply chain will require alternate chemistries — like, say, lithium-sulfur, Lyten’s recipe of choice.
Lithium-sulfur has long been a promising contender, as in theory, these batteries can have a much higher energy density — the amount of energy that can be stored in a given space — than traditional lithium-ion. They also rely primarily on cheap, abundant, and easy to access materials. “We don’t use nickel, we don’t use manganese, we don’t use cobalt, we don’t use graphite,” Keith Norman, Lyten’s chief sustainability officer, told me — all markets where China plays a leading role. Scaling up standard lithium-ion battery production to meet forecasted global demand would require opening nearly 400 new mines by 2035, according to Benchmark Mineral Intelligence. “We believe if you could snap your fingers and change that to lithium-sulfur, that mining requirement will be reduced somewhere between 80% and 90%,” Norman said.
Lyten’s customers, Norman said, want these batteries as soon as possible, and acquiring Northvolt’s old 200-megawatt plant will allow the company to begin commercial production there next year. Lyten also recently announced plans for a Reno-based gigafactory, which is scheduled to come online in 2027. Zeta Energy, a Houston-based lithium-sulfur startup, also aims to commercialize in 2025, and is set to announce the opening of its 100-megawatt plant in the coming weeks.
While both companies have dreams of enabling more efficient, lightweight, and cost-effective electric vehicles and energy storage systems, there are reasons why lithium-sulfur has yet to be commercialized.
For one, sulfur is generally a poor conductor of lithium ions, and therefore requires extra conductive material to compensate, increasing the battery’s weight. Lithium-sulfur batteries also have notoriously short cycle lives due to the “polysulfide shuttle effect,” which causes the sulfur in the cathode to dissolve in the liquid electrolyte, damaging the anode and — you guessed it — decreasing the battery’s capacity and cycle life.
“It could be solved,” Arumugam Manthiram, an engineering professor and battery researcher at the University of Texas at Austin, told me. After being involved in the initial lithium-ion battery breakthroughs of the 1980s, Manthiram said he’s seen traditional battery tech continue to improve year after year. He thinks lithium-sulfur will follow the same trajectory, only quicker. “Can it be solved in five years, 10 years? I’m optimistic.” he told me. He’s currently working with Lyten on a Department of Energy-funded grant to accelerate the commercialization of lithium-sulfur batteries for use in EVs.
Zeta thinks it’s already found the ticket, though. It claims to offer three times the energy density of traditional lithium-ion at less than half the price. While Melissa Schilling, Zeta’s head of strategic marketing and innovation, couldn’t reveal much about Zeta’s proprietary cathode, she did tell me that it’s made of a sulfur-carbon polymer that eliminates the dreaded polysulfide shuttle effect (a claim that’s been externally verified) and allows for greater electrical conductivity. The company’s lithium-metal anode is made of carbon nanotubes, a.k.a. tiny cylinders composed of carbon atoms. The nanotubes help improve the anode’s stability, thus increasing energy density compared with traditional graphite anodes while also preventing the formation of dendrites, tiny projections on the anode that can cause the battery to break down.
Zeta’s batteries can go through about eight times more charge/discharge cycles than traditional lithium-sulfur batteries, according to the company’s figures and Manthiram’s estimation of a typical life cycle. Optimizing these batteries for EVs, though, will likely mean a much shorter cycle life, which may not be on par with what lithium-ion can do. Even so, Schilling told me, “what we’re going to beat lithium-ion on is density and cost.” The company has raised $30 million to date, and is in the midst of raising its Series B round. While Schilling couldn’t reveal the names of Zeta’s initial customers, she told me that the company is collaborating with a large automaker and heavy equipment manufacturer. Zeta has also received the same commercialization grant from the DOE as Lyten.
For its part, Lyten currently provides 25% greater energy density than top-of-the-line lithium-ion batteries, Norman told me. The company expects that soon, it will be able to offer twice the energy density at half the material cost. Lyten’s tech relies upon a so-called supermaterial, three-dimensional graphene, which it’s developing in-house. This gets combined with sulfur in the cathode to form a more conductive and stable composite material.
Norman said you can think of 3D graphene like a sponge with pore sizes “perfectly designed to hold sulfur atoms.” The graphene “gives [the sulfur] conductivity and gives it a rigid structure that doesn’t allow it to break down as easily,” he told me, meaning the battery is less likely to succumb to the polysulfide shuttle effect. Lyten’s anode is also made of energy dense lithium-metal.
Lyten hasn’t publicly revealed its battery’s cycle life, however, and in a follow-up email, Norman told me that when it comes to EV batteries, Lyten is “not yet at the cycle life we need,” though the company is “seeing 20-30% improvement in lithium-sulfur battery performance each year.” For customers using lithium-sulfur for earlier-stage applications such as drones, satellites, and two- and three-wheelers, Norman wrote that Lyten’s current cycle life “meets or very nearly meets their requirements.”
The company seems to have the money to work towards these improvements. Lyten achieved “unicorn” status last year, recording a valuation over $1 billion after closing a $200 million Series B round. It counts Stellantis and FedEx among its backers, and the Department of Defense is even funding a demonstration of Lyten’s battery tech aboard the International Space Station, where lithium-sulfur cells will be tested for use in everything from satellites to space suits.
Norman told me the company’s recent purchase of Northvolt’s old Bay Area facility represents an important step in Lyten’s path to scale. The California plant was originally designed to produce lithium-metal batteries for Cuberg, a startup Northvolt acquired in 2021 and closed down this summer. Like Lyten’s and Zeta’s, Cuberg’s batteries used a pure lithium-metal anode, while its cathode was the same old nickel-manganese-cobalt chemistry that conventional lithium-ion batteries use. With this kind of chemistry, Norman told me, it would be “very difficult to ever compete on costs.”
One of the main ways that Northvolt ultimately went wrong, Norman and Schilling agreed, is that it tried to scale standard lithium-ion tech too quickly in a price-sensitive environment. “They kind of went right to these 10, 20, 30 gigawatt-hour facilities,” Norman told me. “As they tried to scale those, they ran into a lot of manufacturing challenges and just the cost and time of trying to learn that on these huge facilities kind of bit them.” Schilling told me she thinks QuantumScape, a manufacturer of solid-state batteries for EVs, is running the same risk.
To compete with the low-cost Chinese batteries flooding the market, Norman told me domestic tech has to be demonstrably better — incremental improvements in efficiency, cost, or sustainability will not be enough. “Fundamentally, you’ve got to have a differentiated battery that customers are really dying to get their hands on,” Norman told me. But he knows that if Lyten successfully commercializes lithium-sulfur, other companies and countries will quickly get into the game.
After all, major battery giants such as LG, Samsung, SK, and Panasonic are well aware of what’s going on in the lithium-sulfur space, Manthiram told me, even if they’ve yet to make any noise about it. “They are quietly doing some work, R&D. They don’t hype it because they have a product already made,” Manthiram said, referring to the company’s widely available lithium-ion batteries. “They are also watching what academic labs are doing, what Lyten is doing, what others are doing.”
These behemoths are sure to pounce when and if the timing is right. Yet Lyten and Zeta still have the opportunity to pioneer a novel battery technology that can be fully made in America — something thus far unheard of in the battery universe.
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At San Francisco Climate Week, John Reynolds discussed how the state is juggling wildfire prevention, climate goals, and more.
Blessed with ample sun and wind for renewables but bedeviled by high electricity prices and natural disasters, California encapsulates the promise and peril of the United States’ energy transition.
So it was fitting that Heatmap House, a day of conversations and roundtables with leading policymakers, executives, and investors at San Francisco Climate Week, kicked off with John Reynolds, president of the California Public Utilities Commission.
The CPUC oversees the most-populous state’s utilities and has the power to approve or veto electricity and natural gas rate increases. At Heatmap House, Reynolds — “one of California’'s most important climate policymakers,” as Heatmap’s Robinson Meyer called him — affirmed that affordability has been top of mind as power bills have risen to become a mainstream political issue across the country. California’s electricity prices are the second-highest in the nation, behind only Hawaii, according to the Electricity Price Hub.
“I’d really like to see us drive down the portion of household income that is consumed by energy prices,” Reynolds said in a one-on-one interview with Rob. “That’s a really important metric for making sure that we’re doing our job to deliver a system that’s efficient at meeting customer needs and is able to support the growth of our economy.”
The Golden State’s power premium has been exacerbated by the fallout from multiple wildfires that have devastated various parts of the state in recent years, which have necessitated costly grid upgrades such as undergrounding power lines. California-based utility PG&E has also invested in more futuristic fire solutions such as “vegetation management robots, power pole sensors, advanced fire detection cameras, and autonomous drones, with much of this enhanced by an artificial intelligence-powered analytics platforms,” as Heatmap’s Katie Brigham wrote shortly after last year’s fires in Los Angeles.
Affordability affects not just Californians’ financial wellbeing, but also the state’s ability to decarbonize quickly. “The affordability challenge that we’re seeing in electric and gas service is one that is going to make it more difficult to meet our climate goals as a state,” Reynolds said.
One contentious — and somewhat byzantine — aspect of California’s energy transition is how much of a financial incentive the CPUC should offer for residents to install rooftop solar. Net metering is a billing system that rewards households with solar panels for sending excess generation back to the grid. Three years ago, the CPUC adopted a new standard that substantially lowered the rate at which solar panel users were compensated.
“We had to slow the bleeding,” Reynolds said, referring to the greater financial burden paid by utility customers without solar panels. “The net billing tariff did slow the bleeding, but it didn’t stop it.”
Asked whether he is focused more on electricity rates (the amount a customer pays per kilowatt-hour) or bills (the amount a utility charges a ratepayer), Reynolds said both are important.
“If we can drive down electric rates, we’re going to enable more electrification of transportation and of buildings,” Reynolds said. “It’s really important to look at bills, because that is fundamentally what hits households. People’s wallets are limited by their bills, not by their rates.”
The state has terminated an agreement to develop substations and other necessary grid infrastructure to serve the now-canceled developments.
Crucial transmission for future offshore wind energy in New Jersey is scrapped for now.
The New Jersey Board of Public Utilities on Wednesday canceled the agreement it reached with PJM Interconnection in 2021 to develop wires and substations necessary to send electricity generated by offshore wind across the state. The board terminated this agreement because much of New Jersey’s expected offshore wind capacity has either been canceled by developers or indefinitely stalled by President Donald Trump, including the now-scrapped TotalEnergies projects scrubbed in a settlement with his administration.
“New Jersey is now facing a situation in which there will be no identified, large-scale in-state generation projects under active development that can make use of [the agreement] on the timeline the state and PJM initially envisioned,” the board wrote in a letter to PJM requesting termination of the agreement.
Wind energy backers are not taking this lying down. “We cannot fault the Sherrill Administration for making this decision today, but this must only be a temporary setback,” Robert Freudenberg of the New Jersey and New York-focused environmental advocacy group Regional Plan Association, said in a statement released after the agreement was canceled.
I chronicled the fight over this specific transmission infrastructure before Trump 2.0 entered office and the White House went nuclear on offshore wind. Known as the Larrabee Pre-Built Infrastructure, the proposed BPU-backed network of lines and electrical equipment resulted from years of environmental and sociological study. It was intended to connect wind projects in the Atlantic Ocean to key points on the overall grid onshore.
Activists opposed to putting turbines in the ocean saw stopping the wires as a strategy for delaying the overall construction timelines for offshore wind, intensifying both the costs and permitting headaches for all state and development stakeholders involved. Some of those fighting the wires did so based on fears that electromagnetic radiation from the transmission lines would make them sick.
The only question mark remaining is whether this means the state will try to still proceed with building any of the transmission given rising electricity demand and if these plans may be revisited at a later date. The board’s letter to PJM nods to the future, asserting that new “alternative pathways to coordinated transmission” exist because of new guidance from the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission. These pathways “may serve” future offshore wind projects should they be pursued, stated the letter.
Of course, anything related to offshore wind will still be conditional on the White House.
This year’s ocean-heating phenomenon could make climate change seem less bad than it really is — at least in the U.S.
You may have heard that we could be in for a “super” or even a “super duper” El Niño this year. The difference is non-technical, a matter of how warm the sea surface temperature in the El Niño-Southern Oscillation region of the central-eastern Pacific Ocean gets. An El Niño forms when the region is at least half a degree Celsius warmer than average, which causes more heat to be released into the atmosphere and affects global weather patterns. A super El Niño describes an anomaly of 2 degrees or higher. Some models predict an anomaly of over 3 degrees higher than average for this year.
If a super El Niño forms — and that is still a big if, about a one-in-four chance — it would be the fourth such event in just over 40 years. But the impacts could be even more severe, simply because the world is hotter today than it was in the previous super El Niño years of 1983, 1998, and 2016.
“2016 would be an unusually cold year if it occurred today,” Zeke Hausfather, the climate research lead for payment processing giant Stripe and a research scientist at Berkeley Earth, told me. “1998 would be exceptionally cold.”
And yet in a strange twist, a 2026-2027 El Niño event might actually make Americans care less about climate change. Though many parts of the world are likely to get clobbered by El Niño’s characteristic combination of hotter, drier weather, the phenomenon has the potential to alleviate some of the extreme weather we’ve seen recently in the United States.
For example, warmer, wetter conditions in the southern U.S., milder winters in the north, and increased wind shear in the Atlantic hurricane basin are all classic El Niño signatures in North America.
“It may actually mean a better snow season for the Western U.S. and the mountains, hopefully recovering our snowpack if it’s not too warm,” Hausfather said. “We might benefit from higher rainfall” next winter, which could help lift widespread drought conditions in the southwest. High wind shear usually results in reduced hurricane activity in the Atlantic by depriving the storm systems of their heat engines and causing them to be too lopsided to organize into a full-blown cyclone.
Though the body of evidence for climate change remains incontrovertible, the temporary reprieve in some of its more visible effects will almost certainly make some Americans less concerned. Blame it on evolutionary biology. Brett Pelham, a social psychologist at Montgomery College who researches egocentrism and biases, told me that humans are hardwired to pay attention to the conditions happening directly around them. “That’s great if you’re living 20,000 or 80,000 years ago,” he said. “But today, we’re pumping tons of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere, and it’s a recipe for disaster because people only care deeply about that problem if they feel the heat on a pretty chronic basis where they live.”
People are generally less likely to believe the planet is warming on a snowy day in March than they are in the summer, and a lower average state temperature is about as reliable a predictor of climate change skepticism as being a Republican, even when controlling for income, party affiliation, education, and age. Given that it is, in theory, easier to convince someone living in scorching hot Phoenix that greenhouse gases are warming the atmosphere than someone living by a lake in Minnesota, if an El Niño mellows out some extreme weather trends in the U.S. this year and next, it could also mellow some of the sense of urgency to act.
“It’s a definite implication of my work that day-to-day variation, monthly variation, and geographical variation matter,” Pelham said.
“If my data are true,” he added, “it’s going to be true on average that in places that have an unseasonably cool summer or winter, there’s going to be a temporary shift in the average attitude.”
Such shifts affect the average by just a few points either way — “they’re not night and day, like ‘I believed in climate change and now I don’t,’” Pelham stressed. But it’s undoubtedly ironic — and concerning — that heading into what could be one of the hottest years on the planet in recent history, Americans may be predisposed to feeling relatively safe.
Other parts of the world won’t have such luxury. Even a normal-strength El Niño, which looks all but certain to form this year, could cause major damage, from wildfires in parched Indonesia to catastrophic floods in East Africa to water rationing in South America. In Peru and Ecuador, El Niño is already a “current event,” Ángel F. Adames Corraliza, an atmospheric researcher at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and a 2025 MacArthur Fellow, told me. Warm coastal conditions off the continent — a known, albeit not guaranteed, global El Niño precursor — are causing deluges, landslides, and heat waves in the upper northwest corner of South America. “You can see how the impacts start extending towards other parts of the world until it reaches us,” he said.
It is possible to combat local biases. Pelham told me other researchers have found that images can break through our egocentrism. So “if we see more pictures of melting glaciers or waters rising in our own backyards, we would start to say, ‘Oh my goodness, we really have to do something about this global problem,” he said.
But to that end, coverage of climate change that might have this effect is becoming rarer. Stories about global warming have dropped about 38% since 2021; even people working in climate-related industries have “a kind of exhaustion with ‘climate’ as the right frame through which to understand the fractious mixture of electrification, pollution reduction, clean energy development, and other goals that people who care about climate change actually pursue,” my colleague Robinson Meyer wrote based on the results of latest Heatmap Insiders Survey.
Of course, there is no promise that the U.S. will skirt disaster because of El Niño. Increased rainfall means more floods and landslides; if the El Niño pushes temperatures up too high, snowpack will once again be an issue next winter. All it takes is one big hurricane forming and making landfall for it to be considered a bad storm year, which is as much a roll of the dice as anything else. And because El Niño releases ocean heat into the atmosphere, the periods immediately following it are often about two-tenths of a degree Celsius warmer, increasing the severity of heat waves and droughts. Compounded by climate change, that puts 2027 on track to be potentially the hottest year the planet has seen in human history.
“We might be at 1.45 degrees Celsius [above preindustrial levels] next year from human activity, and we might end up at 1.65 degrees because there’s a very strong El Niño,” Hausfather said. But for context, “we are seeing that much warmth added to the climate system from human activity roughly every decade,” he told me. That is, “— we’re adding a permanent super El Niño-worth of heat to the climate system” via the continued burning of fossil fuels.
There couldn’t be a worse time to let up on our collective sense of climate urgency, to put it mildly. But if El Niño makes conditions in the U.S. appear any better, then even if there’s disaster elsewhere, “you’re going to give a sigh of relief,” Pelham predicted. “You’re going to feel like [climate change is] not as bad as people have hyped it up to be.”