Ni Jun, the master of Chinese craftsmanship

When you think of the batteries that power electric cars, you probably picture Chinese laboratories, local innovation, and perhaps a bit of imitation. However, the story of CATL, now a global leader, begins in a very different place: the United States, and it unfolds through a relay of talent and expertise that has reshaped the map of global industrial power. Here's the argument: The real secret of China's manufacturing supremacy lies not only in production scale or labor costs, but in the reabsorption of technical expertise developed and refined in America, reinterpreted, and put back into circulation by precisely those Chinese talents who were trained in the United States. We used to think that “Made in China” meant only assembly, but increasingly, it means “conceived, designed, and manufactured by those who learned the trade overseas.” The key figure in this story is Ni Jun, born in 1961, who is now Chief Manufacturing Officer at CATL, the Chinese company that produces more batteries for electric vehicles than anyone else in the world. But Ni Jun did not grow up in a Chinese factory: his training was provided by another giant, Professor Shien-Ming Wu, who was born in China but became the foremost expert in manufacturing processes in the United States, where he taught and revolutionized the way Ford, General Motors, and Chrysler produced. In the 1960s, Wu invented a way to monitor quality in real time and correct errors in factories by combining mathematics and computer science. This system proved so successful that Wu went on to mentor over 100 doctoral students, creating a dynasty of researchers – and one of his students was Ni Jun. Ni Jun graduated and worked in Wisconsin–Madison and Michigan, earning accolades and leading projects with NASA, Boeing, and DARPA, but his story doesn't end there: he is a living bridge between China and the United States, and when he joined CATL in 2020, he brought with him decades of American experience. Picture the scene: a Siemens summit in Beijing, Ni Jun on stage speaking in perfect English and saying that batteries need “tender, loving care.” It’s not just rhetoric: his approach blends disciplines, from electrochemistry to electronic engineering, and is based on a vision he developed working between Detroit and Shanghai. Meanwhile, China recognizes his value: it includes him in the “Thousand Talents” program, awards him prizes, and uses him as a scientific ambassador. But it is at CATL that the breakthrough occurs: 23,000 people in research and development, partnerships with Chinese universities, and an ecosystem that attracts other talent returning from the United States, such as Liang Chengdu, who is now in charge of solid-state batteries after years spent in American laboratories. CATL doesn't just manufacture: it invests in recycling and in the extraction of critical materials, partners with mining giants, builds factories in Europe and Africa, and seeks to circumvent political and trade barriers by selecting the most strategic countries. In Germany, for example, less than 10% of the employees at the German plant are Chinese – the rest are local talent, trained on-site but integrated into a technical culture that is now cross-cutting. And beware: CATL's supremacy is not readily accepted by the rest of the world. The Pentagon has placed the company on “blacklists,” but U.S. companies continue to buy its batteries. Robin Zeng, CATL’s CEO, puts it bluntly: In the United States, there is a lack of expertise in electrochemistry, and batteries are still seen as “too stupid an industry” to invest in. Yet it is precisely this underestimation that has enabled China to conquer a sector once considered minor, which has now become crucial for the entire global automotive, energy, and logistics sectors. The paradox is that the heart of Chinese innovation beats with American blood—and vice versa. In a world where supply chains are interdependent, China aims to control strategic hubs, so that even those who try to exclude it must still rely on its expertise. And while American politics vacillates between protectionism and nostalgia, the “factory of the world” has also taken over the brain. The bottom line is this: China has not only learned to do—it has learned to teach, and now the rest of the world has to catch up. If you've realized that this story turns the idea of what “Chinese innovation” means on its head, you can mark I'm In on Lara Notes—it's not a like; it's a way of saying that this perspective now belongs to you. And if, at your next dinner party, you tell people that battery leadership stems from a relay of brains between Michigan and Ningde, Lara Notes Shared Offline lets you tag those who were with you—because certain ideas should be remembered together. All of this comes from Rinascita, and compared to the original nine-minute read, you've saved at least five minutes.