Tag: rare earth elements

  • Critical Minerals and the CHIPS Act: How the US Is Trying to Build a Domestic Supply Chain

    The CHIPS and Science Act was signed into law in August 2022 to rebuild American semiconductor manufacturing. By 2025, the Trump administration had redirected at least $2 billion of its funding toward something the original legislation barely mentioned: critical minerals. The pivot tells you everything you need to know about where the actual bottleneck sits. You can build a semiconductor fab in Arizona — and the U.S. is building several — but if the neodymium magnets in the fab’s equipment, the gallium in the compound semiconductors, the germanium in the fiber optics, the cobalt in the tooling alloys, and the rare earth elements in the electric motors all come from China, then you’ve built a factory that runs on your adversary’s supply chain. The CHIPS Act started as a semiconductor bill. It’s becoming a critical minerals bill because the people implementing it realized the two problems are the same problem.

    The scale of the dependency

    China controls approximately 90 percent of global rare earth processing, 80 percent of gallium production, 98 percent of gallium metal output, 60 percent of germanium, and dominant shares of graphite, manganese, and cobalt refining. The United States has exactly one operational rare earth mine — MP Materials’ Mountain Pass facility in California — and until recently had zero domestic capacity to separate rare earth oxides into individual elements, zero capacity to produce rare earth metals from those oxides, and zero capacity to manufacture the neodymium-iron-boron permanent magnets that go into everything from F-35 fighter jets to MRI machines to wind turbine generators to EV motors. The U.S. mined the ore and shipped it to China for processing. That’s like growing wheat and sending it abroad to be turned into bread.

    When China imposed export controls on gallium and germanium in July 2023, exports dropped 97 percent in three months. European prices doubled. The demonstration was unambiguous: China could turn the valve on materials that the defense industrial base requires and the U.S. has no domestic alternative for. The semiconductor supply chain runs through a handful of chokepoints. The critical minerals supply chain runs through fewer. And unlike chips, where TSMC’s advantage is technological, China’s advantage in minerals processing is infrastructural — built over three decades of sustained investment that the U.S. chose not to match.

    What the government is actually doing

    The response since 2025 has been the most aggressive federal intervention in mining and materials processing since the Strategic Petroleum Reserve was established. The Department of Defense’s Office of Strategic Capital deployed over $4.5 billion in capital commitments by January 2026, closing six major critical mineral deals in a single year. The scale and structure of individual deals illustrate how far the government is willing to go.

    MP Materials — the Mountain Pass operator and sole U.S. rare earth miner — received a $400 million equity investment from the Pentagon plus a $150 million loan to build heavy rare earth separation capacity in California. The Pentagon also established a price floor of $110 per kilogram for neodymium-praseodymium oxide — effectively guaranteeing MP Materials a minimum revenue regardless of market fluctuations. That’s the government acting as both investor and customer, de-risking a market that private capital alone won’t enter because Chinese producers can dump prices below any Western competitor’s cost of production.

    Vulcan Elements and ReElement Technologies secured a $1.4 billion public-private partnership — $620 million in Pentagon loans, $50 million from the Department of Commerce under the CHIPS Act (with the government receiving an equivalent equity stake), and $550 million in private capital — to manufacture up to 10,000 metric tons of NdFeB magnet material domestically. USA Rare Earth announced a $1.6 billion debt and equity package with the government taking a 10 percent ownership stake. In Alaska, the Pentagon invested $35.6 million for a 10 percent stake in Trilogy Metals’ Upper Kobuk project. In Louisiana, Ucore Rare Metals received $18.4 million from the Army for a commercial-scale rare earth separation facility.

    The National Defense Stockpile, a strategic reserve created in 1939 and largely neglected for decades, received $2 billion in new funding through the One Big Beautiful Act. The Pentagon announced intent to procure up to $1 billion in stockpile materials, issuing requests for information on scandium, tungsten, graphite, samarium, dysprosium, and terbium — minerals for which the U.S. has known deposits but essentially zero commercial production capacity.

    The permitting acceleration is the other half. A March 2025 executive order expanded Defense Production Act authorities, reduced approval requirements, and directed streamlined permitting for mineral projects. The Department of the Interior published a new Critical Minerals List in November 2025, expanded from 50 to include additional materials based on updated methodology. In January 2026, Section 232 tariff actions targeted processed critical minerals alongside semiconductors — not yet imposing duties on minerals, but establishing monitoring frameworks and requiring Commerce to report on whether future restrictions are warranted.

    Why it might not work fast enough

    The money is real. The policy intent is clear. The problem is time. The average timeline from mineral discovery to production in the United States is 17 to 29 years. Environmental review, permitting, judicial challenge, construction, commissioning, and ramp-up each take years. China didn’t build its mineral processing dominance through a single piece of legislation. It built it through three decades of sustained investment, deliberately subsidized production, environmental shortcuts that no Western democracy would permit, and strategic acquisition of mining assets worldwide — an estimated $57 billion invested in copper, cobalt, nickel, lithium, and rare earth mines and processing facilities from 2000 to 2021.

    The CHIPS Act-funded investments will take years to produce operational output. Vulcan Elements’ 10,000-ton magnet facility hasn’t been built yet. MP Materials’ heavy rare earth separation capacity is under development. The Thacker Pass lithium project in Nevada — the largest lithium deposit in the U.S. — had its Department of Energy loan restructured in October 2025 to include debt service deferrals, which tells you the economics remain fragile. The Pentagon’s price floor mechanism for rare earths is an admission that the market alone won’t sustain domestic production against Chinese competitors who operate at lower cost, lower environmental standards, and with direct state subsidy.

    There’s also a geographic diversification play that acknowledges the U.S. can’t do everything domestically. MP Materials announced a joint venture with the Pentagon and Saudi Arabia’s Ma’aden to build a rare earth refinery in Saudi Arabia — expanding non-Chinese separation capacity outside U.S. borders but within allied supply chains. The Export-Import Bank’s Supply Chain Resiliency Initiative finances upstream projects in allied countries where U.S. manufacturers have signed offtake agreements. The strategy is “friend-shoring” — building mineral processing capacity in countries that won’t weaponize it against the U.S. — because building it all domestically would take longer than the threat allows.

    The honest assessment

    The U.S. went from zero critical mineral strategy to $4.5 billion in deployed capital in roughly 18 months. That’s fast by government standards. It’s not fast by supply chain standards. China’s rare earth monopoly wasn’t built in 18 months, and it won’t be unwound in 18 months. The investments are necessary. They are not sufficient. And the fundamental constraint — that opening a mine in the U.S. takes longer than a presidential term — means the strategy requires continuity across administrations, which is the one thing American mineral policy has never had.

    The CHIPS Act’s evolution from semiconductor legislation to critical mineral funding vehicle is the clearest illustration of a lesson the copper shortage, the helium crisis, and the gallium export controls all teach independently: the energy transition, the AI buildout, and the defense industrial base all depend on the same materials, sourced from the same places, processed through the same chokepoints. We cover the full critical minerals landscape — from neodymium magnet manufacturing to China’s processing monopoly to the CHIPS Act response — across our Rare Earth Elements course, where the question isn’t whether the U.S. has the money to build a domestic supply chain but whether it has the time.

  • Can We Recycle Rare Earths? The Circular Economy Problem for Critical Minerals

    Less than 1 percent of rare earth magnets currently come from recycled sources. In the United States, the figure is under 1 percent. Almost all spent neodymium-iron-boron magnets—the permanent magnets inside electric vehicle motors, wind turbines, hard drives, headphones, MRI machines, and F-35 fighter jets—end up in landfills or low-grade scrap. Every one of those magnets contains neodymium, praseodymium, and often dysprosium, mined at enormous environmental cost, refined predominantly in China, and then buried in the ground a second time when the product they powered reaches end of life. The circular economy for rare earths is, in 2026, essentially a concept with a handful of pilot plants attached to it. The technology to recycle rare earths exists. The economics, logistics, and collection infrastructure to do it at scale do not.

    This matters more than it used to. Global demand for neodymium-iron-boron magnets is increasing at over 15 percent annually, driven by the energy transition—electric vehicles use up to 4 kilograms of rare earths per motor, and a single large offshore wind turbine can contain 200 kilograms. China controls 60 to 90 percent of global rare earth mining and refining. The EU’s Critical Raw Materials Act requires 25 percent of critical raw materials to come from recycling by 2030. The gap between that target and the current 1 percent recycling rate is not a gap that incremental improvement will close. It’s a structural problem with structural causes.

    Why recycling rare earths is hard

    Traditional mining produces up to 2,000 tons of toxic waste per ton of rare earth elements extracted. You’d think that alone would make recycling the obvious alternative. The reason it isn’t comes down to three problems that compound each other.

    The first is physical access. Neodymium magnets are embedded deep inside products—glued into electric motors, bonded into hard drive assemblies, sealed inside speaker housings, integrated into sensor systems. Extracting them requires disassembly of the product, which is labor-intensive, sometimes destructive, and rarely designed for. A car manufacturer optimizes an electric motor for performance and cost, not for magnet recovery 15 years later. The magnets are small relative to the product that contains them, which means the labor cost of extraction can exceed the value of the recovered material. And neodymium magnets are strongly magnetized, which makes handling them in bulk—particularly from large EV motors—a safety hazard requiring specialized equipment.

    The second is chemical complexity. Recovered magnets are contaminated with coatings, adhesives, and other metals that must be removed before the rare earth elements can be reprocessed. Different products use different magnet compositions—the ratio of neodymium to dysprosium varies by application, complicating standardized recycling processes. Neodymium magnets are also sensitive to oxidation; if their protective coatings are damaged during extraction, the material quality degrades, and oxidized rare earth elements are harder to refine back to usable purity.

    The third is economic competition with virgin material. China’s dominance of rare earth mining and refining means that primary rare earth oxides are available at prices that recycled material struggles to undercut, particularly when the collection, disassembly, and reprocessing costs of recycling are factored in. In Europe, recycling is currently more expensive than importing raw material from China. The economic case for recycling depends on either the price of virgin material rising (which China can manipulate through export controls) or the cost of recycling falling (which requires scale that doesn’t yet exist). Strategic necessity—reducing dependence on a single supplier—is driving investment, but strategic necessity doesn’t automatically translate into competitive unit economics.

    What actually works

    The recycling technologies exist, and some of them work well at laboratory and pilot scale.

    Hydrogen decrepitation—the HPMS process—injects hydrogen gas into sintered neodymium magnets, cracking them into powder without harsh chemicals. The process preserves the alloy composition, allowing the powder to be re-sintered directly into new magnets. HyProMag, a UK company expanding into the United States, uses this method and reports that its hydrogen-processed powder matches new-magnet grades while using 90 percent less energy than manufacturing from virgin material. Hydrometallurgical methods dissolve magnets in acid solutions to separate individual rare earth elements, which can then be refined to high purity. The SEEE process developed by Kyoto University has achieved 96 percent recovery for neodymium and 91 percent for dysprosium at purities above 90 percent.

    A 2025 paper in PNAS described flash Joule heating combined with chlorination—a single-step process that achieves greater than 90 percent purity and greater than 90 percent yield while reducing energy consumption by 87 percent, greenhouse gas emissions by 84 percent, and operating costs by 54 percent compared to traditional hydrometallurgy. The process eliminates water and acid use entirely. REEcycle, a Texas-based company, has developed an electrochemical separation process claiming 99.8 percent recovery efficiency. Phoenix Tailings uses acid-free leaching and molten salt electrolysis to recover rare earths from mining waste at pilot scale, targeting thousands of tonnes per year. Canada’s Cyclic Materials, backed by investment from BMW and Jaguar Land Rover, achieves over 90 percent rare earth recovery from EV motors and electronics.

    In Italy, startup RarEarth raised €2.6 million to build the country’s first neodymium magnet factory using recycled e-motor waste. The UK’s CREEM consortium—£11 million, led by Ionic Technologies, with participants including Ford, Bentley, and Wrightbus—aims to build scalable recovery loops for end-of-life EV magnets. Apple has invested $500 million in expanding recycling infrastructure that includes rare earth recovery from consumer electronics. The REE4EU project has produced magnets containing over 99 percent recycled material.

    The technology portfolio is genuine: hydrogen processing, hydrometallurgy, pyrometallurgy, flash Joule heating, electrochemical separation, bio-adsorption, ion chromatography. Multiple methods achieve recovery rates above 90 percent at purities sufficient for remanufacturing. The problem isn’t that recycling can’t be done. It’s that it can’t yet be done at the scale, cost, and collection efficiency required to make a meaningful dent in the 1 percent recycling rate.

    The collection problem beneath the technology problem

    Even if every recycling technology worked perfectly at industrial scale tomorrow, the system would still face a bottleneck that no amount of chemistry can solve: getting the magnets out of the products and into the recycling plants.

    An electric vehicle sold in 2025 won’t reach end of life for 10 to 15 years. The wind turbines being installed now have operational lifespans of 20 to 25 years. The rare earth magnets inside these products are, from a recycling perspective, locked in a time capsule that won’t open until the 2035–2050 timeframe. The feedstock available today comes primarily from manufacturing scrap (the dust and shavings produced during magnet shaping—called swarf), end-of-life consumer electronics (hard drives, speakers), and decommissioned industrial equipment (MRI machines, factory motors). These are real sources, but they’re diffuse, low-volume relative to the magnets that will eventually come from the EV and wind turbine fleets, and require collection logistics that don’t yet exist at scale.

    IDTechEx predicts that rare earth magnet recycling will increase 6.5 times over the next decade and could represent up to 10 percent of global supply by 2036. Ten percent by 2036. Not 25 percent. Not 50 percent. The EU’s target of 25 percent recycled critical raw materials by 2030 is, by independent industry analysis, aspirational rather than achievable on the current trajectory. The honest timeline: recycling will become a meaningful supplement to primary mining within the decade, and a significant supply source by the mid-2030s when the first wave of end-of-life EVs and wind turbines begins generating large-volume magnet feedstock. It will not replace mining. It will reduce the rate of growth in mining demand, which—given that mining produces 2,000 tons of toxic waste per ton of extracted rare earths—is worth doing even if the circular economy remains incomplete.

    The rare earth recycling problem is, at bottom, a timing problem. The technology is arriving before the feedstock. The products that contain the largest volumes of rare earth magnets haven’t reached end of life yet. The circular economy for critical minerals is being built during the interval between when the products were sold and when they’ll be discarded—an interval measured in decades, during which the world’s dependence on Chinese mining continues, the environmental cost of extraction accumulates, and the collection infrastructure that will eventually be needed is either built now or scrambled together later.

    We cover rare earth recycling alongside neodymium supply chains, the helium shortage, and the full landscape of critical materials that underpin modern technology across our Rare Earth Elements course—including why the circular economy for the most important magnets on earth is stuck at 1 percent, and what has to change before it isn’t.

  • The Semiconductor Supply Chain in 2026: Why Chips Are Still a Geopolitical Weapon

    The global semiconductor industry is expected to hit $975 billion in revenue in 2026—a 26 percent increase over 2025, which itself grew 22 percent. The combined market capitalization of the top 10 chip companies reached $9.5 trillion by December 2025, up 181 percent from two years earlier. TSMC introduced the world’s most advanced 2-nanometer chip, promising 10 to 15 percent faster speeds and 20 to 30 percent lower power consumption than its 3-nanometer predecessor. And the United States and China are engaged in a technology control regime that a Texas National Security Review analysis compared, unfavorably, to Cold War-era CoCom—the multilateral export control system that tried and largely failed to prevent the Soviet Union from accessing Western technology.

    The semiconductor supply chain was the most globally integrated industrial system ever built. It is now fragmenting along geopolitical lines, and every major government on earth is treating chip access as a national security priority rather than a commercial one.

    The chokepoints

    The semiconductor supply chain has a concentration problem that makes OPEC look diversified. Three American companies—Nvidia, Qualcomm, and Broadcom—account for over 75 percent of advanced chip design. TSMC in Taiwan manufactures 80 to 90 percent of the world’s sub-7-nanometer chips. Two Korean companies, Samsung and SK Hynix, plus one American company, Micron, produce essentially all the world’s high-bandwidth memory. ASML, a single Dutch company, manufactures the extreme ultraviolet lithography machines that are required to produce chips below 7 nanometers—and ASML is the only company on earth that makes them.

    Each of these chokepoints is a potential geopolitical weapon, and several have already been deployed as one. The U.S. began restricting semiconductor exports to China in October 2022, targeting advanced AI chips and the equipment used to manufacture them. Those controls were tightened in October 2023, again in December 2024, and again in March 2025, when the Trump administration blacklisted dozens of additional Chinese entities. The Biden administration’s January 2025 AI Diffusion Rule proposed a three-tiered global framework that categorized every country on earth by its access to advanced chips—essentially creating a semiconductor caste system aligned with U.S. strategic interests. The Trump administration rescinded parts of that rule but imposed its own restrictions. The Netherlands, under sustained U.S. pressure, restricted ASML’s sales of advanced lithography equipment to China. Japan implemented similar controls on semiconductor manufacturing equipment.

    China responded with its own export controls on critical minerals—gallium, germanium, and other materials essential to chip manufacturing—explicitly leveraging its dominance of the mineral supply chain as a countermeasure. The tit-for-tat is ongoing, escalating, and structurally embedded in both countries’ industrial strategies.

    What the controls actually accomplished

    The honest assessment, three years into the U.S. export control regime, is that the controls disrupted China’s semiconductor industry without stopping it. CSIS analysis found that the restrictions created equipment shortages for Chinese chipmakers, produced severe bottlenecks, limited manufacturing yields, and forced workforce reductions across China’s chip sector. Chinese manufacturing yields for advanced chips reportedly run 30 to 50 percent, compared to over 90 percent for U.S.-allied manufacturers. Huawei’s Ascend 910C AI processor, China’s most advanced domestically produced AI chip, is limited to an estimated 250,000 to 300,000 units in 2026 production, bottlenecked primarily by high-bandwidth memory availability. For comparison, U.S. production of Nvidia B300-equivalent chips reached 3.67 million units in 2025—and each B300 is roughly five times more powerful than a 910C.

    But China adapted faster than the controls’ architects expected. Cut off from ASML’s state-of-the-art EUV lithography machines, China’s Semiconductor Manufacturing International Corporation (SMIC) used older deep ultraviolet machines to produce 7-nanometer and even 5-nanometer chips—behind TSMC’s leading edge of 3 nanometers, but far more advanced than the controls were designed to allow. Huawei reportedly used shell companies to trick TSMC into manufacturing 2 million chiplets for its Ascend 910 processors. China is investing in domestic lithography equipment, recruiting former ASML employees by the thousands, and pursuing alternative chip architectures—including a 2D transistor from Peking University researchers that reportedly operates 40 percent faster than TSMC’s 3-nanometer devices while consuming 10 percent less energy.

    The CSIS report summarized the fundamental problem: chipmaking equipment is heavy, produced in small lots, and hard to smuggle. Chips are tiny, produced by the millions, and easily concealed. Design software can be moved across borders undetected. Export controls can restrict equipment. They struggle to restrict everything else. The Texas National Security Review analysis drew the Cold War parallel explicitly: CoCom did not prevent the Soviet Union from accessing key technologies, and China is a “more adept target” than the USSR was.

    The cost of the controls to the U.S.

    The restriction regime isn’t free for the restrictor. An ITIF economic model estimated that full U.S.-China semiconductor decoupling would cost American chipmakers approximately $77 billion in first-year revenue losses. U.S. semiconductor R&D investment could decrease by 24 percent, or $14 billion. Over 80,000 American semiconductor jobs would be at risk. Korean firms would gain roughly $21 billion of that lost U.S. business; EU firms would pick up $15 billion; Taiwanese firms $14 billion; Japanese firms $12 billion.

    Nvidia has already raised prices on nearly all its AI GPUs—gaming cards up 5 to 10 percent, high-end AI accelerators up 15 percent—citing increased manufacturing costs and tariff impacts. TSMC is considering a 10 percent price increase on advanced wafers. The semiconductor industry was built as a globally interdependent system where each region specialized in what it did best. Breaking that interdependence doesn’t just hurt the target. It raises costs for everyone, reduces R&D reinvestment for the companies leading innovation, and creates market share opportunities for competitors in countries that aren’t implementing controls with the same rigor.

    The geopolitical imperative and the economic imperative are pulling in opposite directions, and no government has figured out how to resolve the tension. Restrict too aggressively and you damage your own industry. Restrict too loosely and you fund your adversary’s military modernization. The U.S. government approved Nvidia to sell H200 AI chips to selected customers in China in December 2025—the same government that had blacklisted dozens of Chinese entities months earlier. The policy is simultaneously hawkish and permissive because the constraints are genuinely contradictory.

    The Taiwan variable

    Underlying all of this is a single geographic fact: the island of Taiwan, 180 kilometers off the Chinese coast, with a population of 24 million, manufactures the overwhelming majority of the world’s most advanced semiconductors. TSMC’s fabrication facilities in Taiwan represent a concentration of strategic capability that has no parallel in any other industry. If those facilities were destroyed, captured, or rendered inoperable by a Chinese military action—or by the threat of one—the global technology supply chain would experience a disruption that would make the COVID-era chip shortage look trivial.

    This is why the U.S. is funding TSMC’s construction of fabrication plants in Arizona under the CHIPS Act. It’s why Japan, the EU, and South Korea are all building or expanding domestic chip manufacturing. The entire reshoring effort is an insurance policy against a Taiwan contingency—and it’s going to take a decade to meaningfully reduce the concentration risk, because building a leading-edge fabrication facility takes three to five years and costs $15 to $20 billion per facility.

    The semiconductor supply chain in 2026 is not a market. It’s a battlefield where the weapons are export controls, lithography machines, rare earth minerals, fabrication capacity, and the strategic ambiguity surrounding a 180-kilometer strait. The $975 billion flowing through it annually isn’t just commerce. It’s the material substrate of AI development, military capability, and economic power for every country on earth—and the fight over who controls it is the defining industrial conflict of the decade.

    We cover the semiconductor supply chain alongside rare earth monopolies, conflict minerals, and the full landscape of critical material geopolitics across our Rare Earth Elements course—including why the most important factory on earth is on an island that one country claims as its own and another has promised to take.

  • How Neodymium Magnets Are Made (And Why They Matter for Everything From Wind Turbines to F-35s)

    Every electric vehicle on the road has them. Every wind turbine spinning on a ridge in west Texas has them. Every pair of AirPods, every MRI machine, every hard drive, every guided missile in the Pentagon‘s inventory has them. Neodymium-iron-boron magnets—NdFeB if you’re reading a spec sheet, “neo magnets” if you’re not—are the strongest permanent magnets commercially available, and they are so deeply embedded in modern technology that removing them from the supply chain would be roughly equivalent to removing concrete from construction. You could technically build things without them. You just wouldn’t want to see what you’d get.

    The thing is, almost nobody knows how they’re made. The manufacturing process is genuinely fascinating—part metallurgy, part materials science, part geopolitical thriller—and understanding it explains why these magnets are at the center of a supply chain crisis that involves export controls, Pentagon loans, tariff threats, and the kind of great-power competition that used to be about oil and is now about a silvery metal most people can’t pronounce.

    What makes them special

    A neodymium magnet is an alloy of three elements: neodymium (a rare earth element, atomic number 60), iron, and boron. The compound—Nd2Fe14B—forms a tetragonal crystal structure that was discovered independently by General Motors and Sumitomo Special Metals in 1984, which is the materials science equivalent of two people showing up to a party wearing the same outfit except the outfit happens to reshape global manufacturing for the next four decades.

    What makes this crystal structure so magnetically powerful is its exceptionally high magnetocrystalline anisotropy—the atomic-level property that determines how strongly a material resists demagnetization. In plain language: the crystal lattice is shaped such that the magnetic domains align along a single preferred axis with extreme reluctance to flip. The energy density is roughly ten times higher than a standard ferrite magnet, which means a neodymium magnet the size of a quarter can do the work of a ferrite magnet the size of a coffee mug. That size-to-strength ratio is why they ended up everywhere. When you need a powerful magnetic field in a small package—an EV motor, a drone, a missile guidance system, an earbud—there is no practical substitute.

    How they’re actually made

    The manufacturing process is powder metallurgy, and every step matters. Screw up the particle size, the alignment pressure, or the sintering temperature by a small margin and you get a mediocre magnet instead of a great one. This is not an industry where you can wing it.

    It starts with strip casting. The raw materials—neodymium (often with some praseodymium substituted in because it’s cheaper and chemically similar), iron, and boron, plus small additions of dysprosium or terbium for high-temperature applications—are melted together in a vacuum induction furnace at around 1,300°C. The molten alloy is poured onto a rapidly spinning, water-cooled copper roller, which solidifies it into thin strips. The rapid cooling is critical: it produces a fine-grained microstructure that’s optimized for the next step.

    Those strips go through hydrogen decrepitation—you expose them to hydrogen gas, which diffuses into the grain boundaries and causes the alloy to crack apart into coarse chunks. This is nature doing the first stage of size reduction for you. From there, the chunks go into a jet mill operating in a nitrogen atmosphere, where high-pressure gas streams grind the material into an extremely fine powder with an average particle size of about 3 microns. That’s roughly the size of a red blood cell. The nitrogen atmosphere prevents oxidation, which would ruin the magnetic properties—neodymium is ferociously reactive with oxygen, which is also why the finished magnets need protective coatings, but we’ll get there.

    Now comes the step that makes or breaks the magnet: magnetic field alignment and pressing. The powder goes into a mold, and a powerful external magnetic field—several tesla—is applied. This field physically rotates the tiny crystalline particles so their easy magnetization axes all point the same direction. The aligned powder is then compressed under enormous pressure. The alignment quality during this step directly determines the magnet’s maximum energy product—the BHmax value that shows up on the spec sheet and tells an engineer how much magnetic work the magnet can do per unit volume. A poorly aligned magnet with the exact same chemical composition will be measurably weaker than a well-aligned one. The process matters as much as the recipe.

    The compressed “green compact” is then sintered in a vacuum furnace at approximately 1,050°C. Sintering fuses the powder particles together without fully melting them—it’s the difference between welding and soldering, conceptually—creating a dense, solid block with the internal crystal alignment locked in place. After sintering, the magnet goes through a two-stage annealing process at around 900°C and then 600°C, which relieves internal stresses and dissolves unstable phases that would degrade performance over time.

    At this point you have a block of sintered NdFeB that is extremely hard, extremely brittle, and not yet the shape anyone needs. Machining comes next—diamond-tipped saws and grinding wheels cut the blocks into the precise geometries required for specific applications: arcs for motors, discs for speakers, rings for sensors. This is delicate work because the material shatters like ceramic if you look at it wrong. The kerf loss (material wasted in cutting) is a meaningful cost factor, especially when neodymium oxide costs upward of $70 per kilogram.

    Then: coating. Unprotected NdFeB corrodes aggressively. The neodymium-rich grain boundary phase reacts with moisture and oxygen, forming hydroxides that literally cause the magnet to disintegrate over time—structural failure from the inside out. The standard solution is a multi-layer nickel-copper-nickel electroplating, though epoxy coatings, zinc plating, and parylene are used depending on the application environment.

    Finally, the magnet is magnetized. A pulse magnetizer blasts it with a field of approximately 5 tesla, which saturates the aligned domains and produces a permanent magnet ready for installation. The whole process, from raw oxide to finished magnet, involves dozens of precision-controlled steps, and the yield at each stage matters. This isn’t assembling a product. It’s growing one.

    Why this is a geopolitical problem

    China produces roughly 85% of the world’s NdFeB magnets. Not 85% of the neodymium—85% of the finished magnets. Japan and Vietnam account for most of the rest. The United States, as of early 2025, produced approximately zero sintered NdFeB magnets at commercial scale. That’s a supply chain that has the resilience of a house of cards in a wind tunnel, and everyone involved knows it.

    The concentration isn’t accidental. China made a strategic bet on rare earth processing decades ago—Deng Xiaoping reportedly said in 1992 that the Middle East has oil and China has rare earths—and then spent thirty years building out the mining, separation, refining, alloying, and magnet manufacturing infrastructure while everyone else was content to buy cheap finished products. The result is a vertically integrated supply chain that’s extraordinarily difficult to replicate quickly, because it’s not just the magnet factory you need. It’s the solvent extraction plant, the oxide separation facility, the metal reduction furnace, the alloy production line, and the workforce that knows how to run all of it. Each step has its own chemistry, its own equipment, its own failure modes.

    The consequences of this concentration became concrete in April 2025, when China imposed export licensing requirements on dysprosium, terbium, and finished magnets. Export volumes reportedly dropped roughly 74% in May compared to the prior year. These aren’t abstract tariff games—dysprosium is the element that gives NdFeB magnets their high-temperature performance, and without it, the magnets in an F-35’s flight control actuators, an MQ-9 Reaper drone’s guidance system, or a Virginia-class submarine’s propulsion motor would lose their magnetic properties at operating temperatures. The Pentagon noticed.

    The U.S. response has been a scramble. MP Materials—which operates the Mountain Pass mine in California, the only active rare earth mining operation of scale in the country—opened a magnet manufacturing facility in Fort Worth, Texas, in 2025. They began trial production of automotive-grade sintered NdFeB magnets late that year, with a target capacity of about 1,000 metric tons per year. For context, global production is somewhere around 220,000 to 240,000 metric tons annually. So the Fort Worth facility, at full capacity, would represent roughly 0.4% of global supply. It’s a start. It’s not a solution.

    The Pentagon, meanwhile, awarded a conditional $620 million loan to Vulcan Elements and ReElement Technologies to scale domestic magnet production for defense applications. President Trump publicly threatened 200% tariffs on Chinese goods if Beijing restricted rare earth magnet shipments. The EU passed the Critical Raw Materials Act. Everyone is suddenly very interested in a supply chain they ignored for thirty years.

    Why there’s no easy substitute

    The reason this matters so much is that there is no drop-in replacement for NdFeB in most high-performance applications. Ferrite magnets are cheap and abundant, but they’re roughly one-tenth the energy density—you’d need a motor ten times the size to produce the same torque, which defeats the purpose of using permanent magnets in the first place. Samarium cobalt magnets handle high temperatures better but cost significantly more and use cobalt, which has its own supply chain problems centered on the Democratic Republic of Congo. Researchers have explored ferrite-based alternatives, iron nitride, and manganese-based compounds, but none have come close to NdFeB’s combination of magnetic strength, manufacturability, and cost at scale.

    The substitution problem is especially acute in two sectors: electric vehicles and wind turbines. A typical EV traction motor uses 1 to 2 kilograms of NdFeB magnets. A direct-drive offshore wind turbine—the kind being deployed at scale in the North Sea and off the U.S. Atlantic coast—uses roughly 600 kilograms per megawatt of capacity. If you’re planning to electrify the global vehicle fleet and simultaneously triple offshore wind capacity by 2040, you need a lot more neodymium than currently exists in the processing pipeline. The bottleneck isn’t the ore. It’s the processing, the separation, and the magnet manufacturing—and those bottlenecks are sitting in a country that has demonstrated a willingness to use them as leverage.

    This is the kind of constraint that doesn’t show up in the optimistic energy transition models, and it’s the kind of thing that makes the difference between a plan that works on a slide deck and a plan that works on a random Tuesday when the supply ship doesn’t arrive.

    We cover neodymium magnets—along with 35 other critical elements and minerals, from lithium to uranium to gallium nitride—across 36 lectures in our Rare Earth Elements & Critical Minerals course. If you want the full supply chain story, from the Bayan Obo mine to the inside of an F-35 actuator, that’s where it lives.