With offshore wind projects bleeding cash, governments will have to pay more to hit their clean-energy targets. Recent auctions show just how much more.

Higher prices for steel, labor and debt financing have raised the cost of developing a wind farm by almost 40% since 2019. It is a big problem for developers like Danish energy company Ørsted, which signed power supply agreements a few years ago at prices that no longer cover today’s costs.

Developers’ struggles are having a knock-on effect on the turbine makers that supply them, including Vestas, GE and Siemens Energy. The latter’s wind unit, Siemens Gamesa, lost €4.3 billion in the company’s latest fiscal year, equivalent to $4.7 billion at current exchange rates—although its issues are mainly with faulty onshore turbines rather than offshore ones.

Germany last week stepped in with a multi-billion-euro state-backed guarantee for Siemens Energy, which told investors at a capital markets day on Tuesday that its wind division won’t make a profit until after 2026. GE says its offshore wind business will lose $1 billion this year, and the same again in 2024.

The industry’s deepest challenges are in the U.S., a market that was meant to be the next growth frontier following the Biden administration’s pledge to install 30 gigawatts of offshore capacity by 2030. Instead, developers are taking multibillion-dollar impairments on U.S. projects, or backing out entirely. According to BloombergNEF, of the 21.6 gigawatts of offshore wind power awarded or signed so far in the U.S., a quarter has been canceled and almost another third is at risk.

Governments are now responding by topping up the prices at which they auction off licenses. Britain was forced to raise its guaranteed price for offshore wind power by 66% after a September auction didn’t attract a single bid. The average price in New York’s latest offshore wind auction in October was a fifth higher than previous rounds, according to BloombergNEF, and the bill could rise further as new contracts include inflation protection that will shield developers from future cost pressures.

Paying higher, more flexible prices for fresh contracts might still end up being a cheaper solution for New York than renegotiating old ones. Developers including BP and Equinor asked for increases of 49% on average over what was agreed in their original power supply contracts. They may pull out after getting a no from the state.

Governments and companies had become used to the cost of renewable energy heading only one way. The global average levelized cost of electricity generated by offshore wind—a measure of the minimum price necessary to cover the lifetime costs of a project—has plunged by 66% since 2009, according to BloombergNEF data.

After years of becoming more competitive as a source of power, offshore wind is beginning to look expensive in some markets compared with fossil-fuel alternatives. Globally, new offshore wind projects still work out cheaper than natural gas ones and are level with coal. But offshore wind looks costly in the U.S., partly because the supply chain is so immature and will need heavy investment for several years.

The new reality makes it harder for governments to meet their net-zero targets while also keeping power costs low for the public. But densely populated areas like New York may not have much choice but to exploit offshore wind. Clean alternatives such as land-based wind and solar farms are tough to roll out where space is at a premium.

The European Union is also aware that if governments don’t do more to support local companies like Siemens Energy, Chinese turbine manufacturers that enjoy generous subsidies from Beijing will be only too happy to step in. This would help the EU stay on track with an ambitious plan to increase its offshore wind capacity sevenfold by 2030, but at the expense of the bloc’s energy independence.

Harnessing the winds out at sea is still a key part of countries’ plans to cut their carbon emissions and boost energy security. But governments can no longer pretend that these political objectives can come cheap.

There is an urban myth that says online shoppers who doggedly search for certain items on the web get tagged by algorithms that then cause them to see higher prices than others shopping for those same items.

The solution for many people: They choose private mode on their web browsers, believing that cloaking their identity can help them get better prices.

But while such “private” settings as Google Chrome’s Incognito mode or Apple’s Safari private browsing mode do offer some benefits, getting a better price isn’t one of them.

“All these private modes do for shoppers is basically erase your search history from the device you’re on and prevent the browser from using your cookies to see your browsing activity across different sites,” says Benjamin Barrontine, vice president of executive services at 360 Privacy, a company that specializes in protecting clients’ digital identity. This is a great feature if you share a laptop with your children and you want to hide the presents you’re purchasing for them, but companies’ pricing is typically based on a number of factors—timing, location, how much an item in that category’s company paid to rise to the top of your search results—that don’t have to do with you personally or how often you search for a product.

A Google spokesperson confirms that cookies, or information stored on your device, are remembered in the current Chrome browsing session while in Incognito mode but then deleted immediately after closing out the session. If you return in Incognito mode to make the purchase, the websites will see you as a new user and won’t remember what you left in your cart. You essentially have to start your search anew, but with the benefit of blocking anyone who shares that device from seeing what you were researching.

Ultimately, experts say, private modes give shoppers a false sense of anonymity and a feeling that they are gaming the system, when all they are doing is hiding past searches. “You should know that your internet-service provider and even your network administrator at work, if you’re searching on a work device or network, may still see what you’re searching,” says Barrontine. “Private mode is not so private, after all.”

In fact, the big tech companies most likely know with near certainty who it is that is doing this supposedly secret searching, even in private mode.

“When you go on to Amazon.com in private mode and search for a bathrobe, even if you’re not logged into the site, Amazon is 99.9% sure of who you are because of the digital fingerprint they’ve developed for you over time,” says Ken Carnesi, chief executive and co-founder of DNSFilter, a software firm that protects companies from attacks at the domain name system level. That’s because Amazon would still know how you arrived at its site based on the link you clicked, your IP address, your ZIP Code, many of your preference settings and loads of other device-specific attributes. A company spokesman declined to comment.

The tech firms may not know that it is specifically you scouring their sites, but they’d know the search came from your home, which operating system you’re using, which language is your default and other details that point to you.

“That’s why, even when you’re not in private mode later on, if you didn’t close out that private window, you may still see bathrobes being pitched to you,” Carnesi says. “All the tracking is likely still passed through to the company who paid for the ad you clicked on.”

Contrary to popular belief, pricing for highly fluctuating, big-ticket items isn’t impacted by private searches, says Kevin Williams, an associate professor at the Yale School of Management who recently published a paper looking at airlines’ methods of dynamic pricing. Williams says in the case of plane tickets, “Airline pricing doesn’t take into account any of your personal information except location,” as in the country of origin. Using a virtual private network (VPN) can obfuscate your device’s physical location, and may turn up a better fare, but might require some trial and error, Williams says.

There are some additional benefits for shoppers to using private mode, beyond hiding your searches from prying eyes. The search bar won’t auto-fill with prior searches, so you can start anew every time you open a new private window and not fall down an old rabbit hole. You can keep your searches private on a public device or borrowed computer. And you can use a credit card that will later be wiped so your children won’t have access to funds without permission.

For true privacy, consider shopping through a search engine like Brave.com, which doesn’t ever track your searches or your clicks. “Unlike with other search engines, you and your data are not the product here,” Carnesi says. And your partner will never know about that bathrobe you forgot to actually purchase.

EA YONG, Vietnam—In the verdant highlands of central Vietnam, warehouses the size of airplane hangars dominate small farming towns, bristling with mounds of tropical fruit. The bounty is destined for a colossal market: China.

Farmers are felling coffee trees traditionally grown in this cool hilly region to plant spiky durians, pungent fruits that have become wildly popular in China. They are reaping the windfall to buy new irrigation systems, pay off loans and build shiny marble facades to their homes.

“We locals aren’t just doing well, we can even be considered rich,” said Pham Van Trung, 54, as he ate a late lunch of pork and rice wine. Trung made $81,000 this year selling durian, and said the region was swarming with Chinese buyers.

China’s appetite for foreign produce has grown in recent decades along with the wealth of its consumers. The amount of food the world’s second most populous nation imports has risen to over $200 billion a year—more than any other country—from about $15 billion two decades ago, according to the World Trade Organization. Avocado farmers in Kenya, shrimp cultivators in India, soy producers in Russia and banana growers in Cambodia are all cashing in.

While economic growth in China has slowed recently and its population is shrinking, demand for nutrient-rich foods such as beef and tropical fruit has remained high.

Last year, the Chinese noshed through more than 800,000 metric tons of imported durian and nearly six million metric tons of imported meat—both world-leading totals. It bought 90 million metric tons of soybeans from overseas last year, accounting for roughly 60% of global trade, for use in making tofu and to feed the country’s hundreds of millions of pigs.

Feeding China’s massive middle class presents a historic opportunity for countries seeking to boost the incomes of people in poor, rural areas. But it also poses a quandary: how to tap in to its huge market without becoming dependent on a trade partner that can be fickle.

In recent years, China has restricted imports of Norwegian salmon, Taiwanese pineapples, Philippines bananas and Australian lobsters. It usually cites contamination, pests or issues with quality—but Beijing’s curbs have also often coincided with political disputes.

China slapped hefty antidumping duties on Australian wine exports in 2020 after Australia called for an independent probe into the origins of Covid-19. In 2012, China halted purchases from banana growers in the Philippines, saying mealybugs had been discovered in shipments, after a flare-up between the countries in the South China Sea.

“With the size of the Chinese economy, it can always use trade to punish an exporter,” said Yun Sun, director of the China program at the Stimson Center, a think tank in Washington, D.C. Selling to China is “an opportunity, and it is a risk,” she said.

The risk is higher because when the chance to export to China’s massive market opens up, often entire agricultural belts go all in. This can lead to what Sun calls “singularification,” or the concentration of a local economy around one product, making it vulnerable to disruption.

That is what appears to be happening in Vietnam’s central highlands. The region is famed for its Robusta coffee, which is sold around the world. But last year, Beijing opened the gates to large-scale imports of Vietnamese durian—and farmers here began uprooting their coffee crops. Traders flocked to snap up the produce, causing local prices to more than double this year.

Be Duc Huynh, a 26-year-old farmer who got rid of his entire coffee crop, said he makes about five times as much from a hectare of durian as he earned from coffee. He harvested four tons of durian this year, up from one ton last year—all of it destined for China.

China buys around 90% of durian exports from Vietnam, which also sells much of its dragon fruit, bananas, mangoes and jackfruit to its giant neighbour. In recent months around 60% of Vietnam’s fruit and vegetable exports have gone to China, up from one-third a decade ago, according to official figures compiled by data provider CEIC.

During the autumn harvest time, the village air carried the sharp smell of the fruit. Families stacked mounds of durian in front of their homes to entice traders, who thwacked the durian shells with knife handles to test for quality. Hard means it is too young; soft means it is ripe and can sell for a higher price.

On a recent afternoon, durian trader Nguyen Thai Huyen dug into the flesh with her painted-pink fingernails, tasting bits of durian to determine their ripeness. Huyen posts snappy videos on TikTok of her visits to plantations and the mountains of durian she has on offer.

“A few years ago people considered durian a crop to reduce poverty,” she said. “Now it is the million-dollar crop.”

She has tried selling to Japan, but said buyers there only take small amounts. She isn’t especially worried about being too reliant on China, though. She says durian’s popularity has room to grow in the country, where many are still unfamiliar with the fruit.

Vietnam’s government is less certain. Earlier this year the agriculture ministry issued a warning about what state media called reckless durian cultivation, saying many farmers were abandoning traditional crops such as coffee and rice and planting durian in areas unsuited to it. Agriculture experts cited in state media have encouraged farmers to develop alternative markets to China and try to sell more of their produce locally.

Traders say that is easier said than done. The fruit has few takers outside of the region, and recent high prices put durian out of reach of many local Vietnamese.

Still, farmers say they want to be careful. In September, some fruit exports including durian were halted after Beijing complained about mealybugs and other pests. It reminded farmers of a major disruption in January 2022 when truckloads of Vietnamese produce rotted after China sealed off its southern border to contain the spread of Covid-19.

H’Meng, a farmer who goes by one name, has planted hundreds of durian trees in recent years. Now, she said, she is planning to grow more coffee. The prices are more stable, she said, because the market for coffee isn’t focused on one nation.

“I’m worried about becoming too dependent on China,” she said.

The economy is still generating jobs. A year ago, a lot of economists and Federal Reserve policy makers thought that it would be shedding them by now.

On Friday, the Labor Department reported that the U.S. added a seasonally 150,000 jobs in October from the previous month, versus September’s gain of 297,000 jobs. Some of that step down was due to auto workers’ strikes, which have since been resolved but temporarily caused workers to not draw paychecks.

Average hourly earnings rose 0.2% from a month earlier, putting them 4.1% higher than a year earlier. That was the smallest year-over-year gain since June 2021, though unlike then wages are now outpacing inflation.

One takeaway is that the job market is moderating, but not buckling—a message reinforced by a variety of other data, including low levels of weekly unemployment claims and layoffs. Another is that the Federal Reserve is probably through with tightening: Futures markets on Friday morning indicated that the chance of the central bank raising its target range on overnight rates at its December meeting was below 10%. The yield on the 10-year Treasury note, which briefly hit 5% less than two weeks ago, continued to retreat Friday, falling to 4.53% midmorning.

This wasn’t the sort of job market the Fed expected. When policy makers offered projections last December, they forecast that the unemployment rate would average 4.6% in this year’s fourth quarter, versus the 3.7% rate (since revised to 3.6%) they had seen in the November 2022 job report. That was tantamount to a recession forecast, though they didn’t put it that way, since such a large increase in the unemployment rate would count as a strong signal the U.S. is in a downturn. Friday’s report showed the October unemployment rate at 3.9%.

Economists got it wrong, too. In October of last year, forecasters polled by The Wall Street Journal estimated the unemployment rate at the end of 2023 to be at 4.7%, on average. They also put the chances of a recession within the next 12 months at 63%. By last month, they dropped the recession chance to 48%. Available data show that, as a group, economists have never forecast a recession before it has actually started. Now it looks as if the one time they did forecast one, they were either wrong or early.

It is easy to make fun of other people’s past forecasts, but considering the hurdles the economy has had to clear, it really is striking that it has done so well. A year ago there was some hope that the continued recovery in the service sector, and service-sector jobs, might help take up the slack as the goods sector adjusted to slowing demand. But there was also the concern that the service sector could run out of steam before the goods sector found its footing.

Another worry: That the excess savings that Americans had built up after the pandemic struck would run out, and that would cut into their ability to spend. But recent revisions to the available data suggest there was more money left in the tank than thought.

To these, add that inflation has cooled despite the addition of 2.4 million jobs so far this year, and gross domestic product is expanding much faster than economists expected. Plus, at least so far this year, the economy has made it through a regional bank crisis, a sharp increase in both short- and long-term borrowing costs, and the resumption of student-debt payments.

The jury is out on what happens next. The cooling in the job market could turn into a lurch lower, for example, as the full effect of the Fed’s past rate increases begins to take hold. Inflation, which is still too high, could accelerate, prompting the central bank to further tighten the screws.

But the chances of the economy avoiding a recession seem stronger now than they did even a few months ago. A lot of that would be down to luck, but it would nonetheless be something worth celebrating.

It’s called “pig butchering.”

Armies of scammers operating from lawless corners of Southeast Asia—often controlled by Chinese crime bosses—connect with people all over the world through online messages. They foster elaborate, sometimes romantic, relationships, and then coax their targets into making bogus investments. Over time, they make it appear that the investments are growing to get victims to send more money. Then, they disappear.

In recent months, China has unleashed its most aggressive effort to crack down on the proliferation of the scam mills, reaching beyond its territory and netting thousands of people in mass arrests. Its main target is a notorious stretch of its border with Myanmar controlled by narcotics traffickers and warlords.

For decades, frontier fiefdoms such as those in Myanmar have been havens for gambling and trafficking of everything from drugs to wildlife to people. Now, they are dens for pig-butchering operations.

The scammers operate out of secretive, dystopian compounds, many of which are run by Chinese fugitives who fled their country to places where it was easier to flout the law. They cheat Chinese citizens out of billions of dollars each year, as well as victims across the globe. The U.S. Treasury Department in September warned Americans about the scams.

In addition to remote hillside towns in Myanmar, these heavily guarded enclaves are also found in gambling hubs such as Cambodia’s Sihanoukville and Poipet. Cambodian authorities have carried out sporadic raids with China’s help, but the problem has persisted.

For Beijing, it is a significant source of embarrassment that Chinese criminals are at the centre of scams ensnaring people the world over, said Jason Tower, Myanmar country director for the United States Institute of Peace, an independent research organisation founded by the U.S. Congress that specialises in conflict mitigation.

China is “quite sensitive to the narratives that could potentially emerge,” he said. “These are largely Chinese crime groups which China, for years, did very little to check.”

The operations flourished during the Covid-19 pandemic when border trade stopped and internet use surged. They have also fuelled a human-trafficking crisis.

Many of the scammers entrapping people are themselves victims of human trafficking, lured abroad by fake job ads and held captive by withholding pay and passports. The United Nations human-rights office says more than 120,000 people may be forced to work as scammers in Myanmar, with another 100,000 in Cambodia.

One Malaysian trafficking victim told The Wall Street Journal that he was trained to spend weeks or months “fattening” his victims by gaining their trust before “butchering” them. His story was similar to those told by others lured into working in the scam mills. After responding to an ad on a job-recruitment website, he said he accepted an offer for a customer-service role in Cambodia. Once there, he was driven to a prison-like complex in Sihanoukville and forced to work as a scammer under threats of violence.

He said he had a handler who trained him, supplying him with a smartphone preloaded with fake social-media accounts, a “victim list” containing contact information of potential targets and various scripts designed to break the ice and build their trust. After several weeks, he said he convinced a driver who brought people and supplies to the compound to help him escape.

Regional migration researchers have documented trafficking from dozens of countries. Many victims come from Southeast Asia but some from as far as Brazil and Kenya.

“China is starting to signal that enough is enough,” said Inshik Sim, a Bangkok-based lead analyst for the U.N. Office on Drugs and Crime’s regional operations.

In August, China launched a “special joint operation” with three nearby countries and increased pressure on armed groups that oversee remote parts of Myanmar, convincing them to hunt down, round up and repatriate almost 5,000 Chinese nationals suspected of illicit activity.

Chinese authorities have zeroed in on several border areas that are part of Myanmar but are fully controlled by armed groups. These places have often drawn large investments from Chinese nationals—both legal and illicit. Many Chinese people, including notorious fugitives, live in these enclaves, where the Mandarin language and Chinese currency are commonplace.

The Wa Self-Administered Division, located along China’s southwestern border, is of particular interest to China, in part because Beijing has so much leverage over it. The area is home to the ethnic minority Wa people, who claim the territory as their ancestral home. China has been the group’s main benefactor for decades; historians say they helped the Chinese Communist Party flush out enemies who fled across the border in the 1950s and ’60s. The area later became a major economic gateway to resource-rich Myanmar.

Independent researchers say its de facto leadership, the United Wa State Army, commands a force of more than 20,000 people armed with modern Chinese equipment such as portable surface-to-air missiles and armored vehicles.

The area has been a major source of opium for almost two centuries, and in recent decades has become a leading producer of synthetic drugs such as methamphetamine. The U.S. Treasury blacklisted the UWSA in 2003 under the Kingpin Act, and has sanctioned dozens of people and businesses linked to the group, calling it “the largest and most powerful drug trafficking organisation in Southeast Asia.”

The UWSA and other criminal networks have increasingly turned to scamming in addition to the drug trade.

According to a 2022 report in Chinese state media, authorities blocked 2.1 million fraudulent websites and some $51.6 billion in suspicious transactions over the previous year. Beijing has warned citizens to look out for dubious rebate offers, investment schemes and unsolicited contact from anyone claiming to represent a company or law enforcement.

The first sign of a serious cleanup came in early September, when China worked with the UWSA to orchestrate two days of raids that ended with more than 1,000 suspects being marched across the border into Chinese custody. Then China upped the ante, taking aim at the group’s leadership.

On Oct. 12, China’s Ministry of Public Security said arrest warrants had been issued for two senior Wa officials accused of leading scam networks: the state’s construction minister Chen Yanban and a mayor named Xiao Yankui. Four days later, the UWSA said both had been stripped of their roles. Their whereabouts is unknown.

The same day, Chinese authorities said they had transferred 2,349 “telecommunication fraud” suspects from Myanmar two days prior—the single largest such handover. China says 4,666 suspects have been repatriated from Myanmar since the crackdown began earlier this year.

“This is by any measure a major operation, which speaks to the impact on China and Chinese citizens, and the seriousness with which Beijing is approaching this,” said Richard Horsey, senior adviser on Myanmar for the International Crisis Group, a Brussels-based think tank specialis ing in conflict prevention.

While China may be turning up the heat on cybercriminals along its border, experts say scamming is so lucrative that the ringleaders are likely to simply look for more fertile ground—areas in weak states where law enforcement is lax.

“These groups are not going to go away easily,” said Tower, of the U.S. Institute of Peace. “They’re sitting on a massive source of capital and there are many fragile places in the world that they’ll be able to exploit.”