China’s Electric Highways: Awe, Engineering, and the Myths of Invisible Danger

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Keith Bradsher’s recent New York Times article on China’s ultra-high-voltage transmission grid is an impressive piece of reporting in scope and ambition. It captures the sheer physical magnitude of what China has built: hundreds of thousands of kilometers of high-voltage corridors, connecting wind, solar, hydro, and coal resources spread across a continent-sized nation. His description of towers marching across the land like “Martian war machines” is vivid and cinematic, and in that sense, it succeeds.

But it also crosses into a space where language starts to distort technical truth and to become negatively evocative. When readers encounter claims of villagers feeling “numb” under the wires or sparks flying from umbrellas in the rain, the story drifts from engineering toward mythology. That kind of imagery may attract clicks, but it risks feeding a new cycle of EMF hysteria that the world already learned to outgrow.

China’s grid buildout is an engineering story first. Its State Grid Corporation has developed a series of direct current transmission lines at 800 kV, 1,000 kV, and now 1,100 kV, forming the backbone of an interconnected national network. These ultra-high-voltage direct current systems carry electricity thousands of kilometers from the country’s inland hydro and solar basins to coastal cities. The Changji–Guquan ±1,100 kV link alone transmits up to 12,000 MW across 3,300 km. The physics is straightforward: for a given amount of power, raising voltage allows current to drop, and since resistive losses scale with current squared, efficiency improves dramatically. Line losses are much lower than in standard alternating current systems, but still exist. Conversion stations at each end and the resistance of the lines themselves still account for several percent of total power. The success of UHVDC is not in erasing loss but in managing it significantly downward over distance.

That background makes the anecdotal accounts in Bradsher’s piece stand out all the more. When a farmer describes feeling numb when fishing near a line or seeing sparks leap from a wet umbrella, it reads as if something alarming is happening in the air itself. Yet high-voltage transmission engineers have measured these conditions for decades. Under normal design parameters, the electric field at ground level beneath an HVDC line is strong enough to move light objects like hair or grass blades, but not to cause neurological effects. The electric field at ground level is roughly similar to the mild charge you might sense in the air just before a summer thunderstorm, completely natural levels that we are exposed to regularly.

The static field from HVDC is constant rather than oscillating, and the magnetic field is weak compared to the Earth’s own. If someone feels a tingle, it is most likely from small surface ionization currents or corona discharge at sharp metal points in humid weather. Such effects can be startling but are neither harmful nor sustained. Think of rubbing an inflated balloon in a kid’s hair, resulting in the hair standing on end, the balloon sticking to things, and maybe a static shock. Transmission clearances are set precisely to prevent electric stress in the air from reaching dangerous thresholds. In short, a person might see the occasional corona sparkle near a fencepost during a storm, but not an ongoing electrical hazard.

These facts have been confirmed repeatedly in controlled research. International studies from CIGRÉ, the World Health Organization, and national health agencies show that the public exposure fields around HVDC lines are far below levels known to cause biological impact. The U.S. Bureau of Ocean Energy Management’s review of HVDC systems found that even at full capacity, static electric fields do not penetrate the body deeply enough to produce currents of concern. The most a person might experience is a superficial tingling or the sound of corona on wet conductors. In other words, the physics is understood and mundane. It does not support the drama of numb hands or umbrellas sparking on command.

But stories like that spread quickly because they sound believable and frightening. This is a familiar pattern to anyone who has studied environmental perception. Simon Chapman and Fiona Crichton, with whom I worked closely during my time as senior fellow for wind with the Energy and Policy Institute, documented how such fears spread through communities long before any measurable exposure occurs. Their research on wind turbine syndrome showed that when people are warned about infrasound or electromagnetic fields, a predictable subset begin to report headaches, dizziness, or nausea, even when no sound or field is present. It is a textbook case of the nocebo effect, where expectation creates symptoms. They called it a “communicated disease” in their book on the non-existent wind turbine syndrome because it spreads through conversation, media, and social networks, not through biological or electrical pathways. My own work on wind energy litigation and health complaints, gathered into my 2014 report through the Institute and quoted extensively the book, showed that claims clustered around publicity events, not turbine construction or power generation.

The same lens applies easily to the narratives forming around China’s high-voltage grid. The combination of scale, strangeness, and secrecy invites myth. A million volts overhead sounds inherently menacing, even if the field on the ground is comparable to the static buildup one feels before a thunderstorm. When a respected news outlet publishes striking descriptions without grounding them in measured physics, the story takes on the logic of contagion. Fear spreads faster than power.

China’s media is much less likely to indulge in sensationalist fear mongering about technology than the west’s, and Brasher’s piece won’t be read in the hinterlands of China where transmission projects are growing. Where it will be read is in the USA and to a lesser extent Europe where the weak minded and NIMBYs — overlapping groups, in my opinion — will quote it to block necessary transmission projects and to create the illusion of health impacts where none exist. More wind turbine syndrome incoming. More EMF hysteria.

That is why technical accuracy matters. Ultra-high-voltage transmission is not just an engineering achievement. It is one of the most important tools for decarbonization. Moving clean power from interior regions to industrial centers is essential to displacing coal and balancing variable renewables. If public perception turns against these lines based on misunderstanding, it could slow progress in the world’s largest energy transition. Reporters have a role in translating awe into understanding, not anxiety. Metaphors like “Martian war machines” make for lively prose but enforce an image of menace rather than mastery.

In reality, these systems are among the safest and most carefully monitored pieces of infrastructure ever built. China’s grid operators, like western operators, maintain strict corridor distances, grounding protocols, and real-time monitoring of electromagnetic fields. Every tower, insulator, and conductor is modeled for stress, clearance, and corona onset. At scale, the program represents both an engineering triumph and a climate milestone. It is entirely appropriate to be awed by what China has achieved. It is less appropriate to leave readers believing that everyday life near a transmission corridor is physically dangerous when the evidence shows otherwise.

The lessons from wind energy still apply. Fear rooted in misunderstanding can derail clean infrastructure as effectively as any policy reversal. The antidote is consistent, measured communication grounded in physics and data. Communities need credible information more than they need vivid stories. Bradsher’s article could have inspired confidence in the global engineering community while still conveying the grandeur of the project. Instead, its most memorable moments reinforce the myth that invisible forces are at work around us, waiting to shock the unprepared.

The future of transmission, like the future of energy, depends on public trust. That trust is fragile and built on shared understanding. China’s ultra-high-voltage grid is a genuine marvel, moving more electricity farther and faster than any system before it. It deserves admiration for its scale and ingenuity, not suspicion rooted in misunderstanding. The right story to tell is not about sparks and numbness, but about a civilization learning to move power as efficiently as it moves information. That is the real electricity in the air.