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Two international law experts on whether the president can really just yank the U.S. from the United Nations’ overarching climate treaty.

When the Trump administration moved on Wednesday to withdraw the U.S. from the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, we were left to wonder — not for the first time — can he really do that?
The UNFCCC is the umbrella organization governing UN-organized climate diplomacy, including the annual climate summit known as the Conference of the Parties and the 2015 Paris Agreement. The U.S. has been in and out and back into the Paris Agreement over the years, and was most recently taken out again by a January 2025 executive order from President Trump. The U.S. has never before attempted to exit the UNFCCC — which, unlike the Paris Agreement, it joined with the advice and consent of the Senate.
Whether or not a president can unilaterally remove the U.S. from a Senate-approved treaty is somewhat uncharted legal territory. As University of Pennsylvania constitutional law professor Jean Galbraith told me, “This is an issue on which the text of the constitution is silent — it tells you how to make a treaty, but it doesn’t tell you anything about how to unmake a treaty.” Even if a president can simply withdraw from a treaty, there’s still the question of what happens next. Could a future president simply rejoin the UNFCCC? Or would they again need to seek the advice and consent of the Senate, which would require getting 67 senators to agree that international climate diplomacy is a worthy enterprise? And what does all of this mean for the future of the Paris Agreement? Is the U.S. locked out for good?
In an attempt to wrap my head around these questions, I spoke to both Galbraith and Sue Biniaz, a lecturer at Yale School of the Environment and a former lead climate lawyer at the State Department who worked on both the Paris Agreement and the UNFCCC. Biniaz and Galbraith were part of a 2018 symposium on the question of treaty withdrawal that was prompted, in part, by Trump’s first attempt to remove the U.S. from the Paris Agreement, during his first term in the White House. Those conversations led Galbraith to consider the question of rejoining treaties in a 2020 Virginia Law Review article. Suffice it for now to say that both questions are complicated, but we dig into the answers to both and more in our conversation below.
Interviews have been edited for length and clarity.
At the most basic level, what are the constitutional questions at play in an executive withdrawal from the UNFCCC?
Galbraith: Typically, the U.S. president needs to think about both international law and domestic law. And as a matter of international law, there is a withdrawal provision in the UNFCCC that says you can withdraw after you’ve been in it for a few years, after one year of notice. Assuming they give their notice of withdrawal and wait a year, this is an issue on which the text of the constitution is silent — it tells you how to make a treaty, but it doesn’t tell you anything about how to unmake a treaty.
And we have no definitive answer from the courts. The closest they got to deciding that was in a case called Goldwater v. Carter, which was when President Carter terminated the mutual defense treaty with Taiwan. That was litigated, and the Supreme Court ducked — four justices said this is a political question that we’re not going to resolve, and one justice said this case is not ripe for resolution because I don’t know whether or not Congress likes the withdrawal. There was no majority opinion, and there was no ruling on the merit for the constitutional question.
Presidents have exercised the authority to withdraw the United States from various international agreements. So in practice, it happens. The constitutionality has not been finally settled.
Both Trump administrations have removed the U.S. from the Paris Agreement, but the Paris Agreement was not a Senate-ratified treaty, whereas the UNFCCC is. How does that change things?
Galbraith: The text of the constitution only clearly spells out one way to make an international treaty, in the treaty clause [of Article II]. When you make an Article II treaty, it’s signed by the president and secretary of state. It goes over to the Senate; the Senate provides advice and consent — the U.S. is still not in it. At that point, the president has to take a final act of ratifying the treaty, which means depositing the instrument of ratification with the international depository, and that’s the moment you’re in. And it’s perfectly permissible for a president after the Senate has given advice and consent not to ratify a treaty, or to leave those resolutions of advice and consent for years and then go ahead and ratify.
In practice, you have all these kinds of other ways of making [a treaty]. You have what happened with the Paris Agreement, where the president does it largely on their own authority, but maybe pointing to pre-existing facts of, say, the UNFCCC’s existence. You have some international agreements that have been negotiated, then taken to Congress rather than to the Senate. Sometimes you have Congress pass a law that says, Please make this kind of agreement. So you have a lot of different pathways to making them. And I think there is a story in which the pathway to making them should be significant in thinking about, what is the legitimate, constitutional way for exiting them?
To me, it’s pretty obvious that if you don’t get specific approval for an agreement in the first place, then you should be able to unilaterally withdraw, assuming you’re doing so consistent with international law. I think the concerns around the constitutionality of withdrawal are more significant for the UNFCCC than they are for the Paris Agreements. But there nonetheless is this fairly strong body of practice in which presidents have viewed themselves as authorized to withdraw without needing to go to Congress or the Senate.
Biniaz: The Senate doesn’t ratify. It sounds like a detail, but the Senate basically authorizes the president to ratify — they give their advice and consent. And that’s important because it’s not the Senate that decides whether we join an agreement. They authorize the president, the president does not have to join. And that becomes relevant when we talk about withdrawing and rejoining.
We did not address, when we sent up the framework convention, whether it was legally necessary to send it to the Senate. But we sent it in any event, and it was approved basically unanimously by the full Senate back in 1992. With respect to the Paris Agreement, there are a lot of different considerations when you’re trying to figure out whether something needs to go to the Senate or not, but the fact that we already had a Senate-approved convention changed the legal calculus as to whether this Paris Agreement needed to go to the Senate. And then when the Paris Agreement ended up essentially elaborating the convention and the targets were not legally binding, we decided we could do it as an executive agreement. There was some quibbling in some quarters — more from a political point of view than a legal point of view — but I didn’t hear any objection from a legal point of view.
Now, in terms of withdrawing from an agreement, whether or not an agreement has been approved by the Senate, my view would be: The president can withdraw unilaterally. That is the mainstream view. It’s certainly the view that the president can withdraw unilaterally from an agreement that didn’t even go to Congress, like the Paris Agreement. And in part, that’s for the reasons that I mentioned. The Senate is not deciding to join the agreement — they’re authorizing, but it’s up to the president whether to actually join, and the president does that unilaterally. And then the mirror image of that would be he or she can withdraw unilaterally.
There’s a related legal question that has not been litigated, which is if Congress passes a law that says, Thou shalt not withdraw from a particular agreement, would that law be constitutional? Some would say no, because the president can withdraw, and so the Congress can’t fetter that right. So that’s like uncharted waters, but that’s not a live issue in this case.
Trump took the U.S. out of the Paris Agreement. Biden put the us back into the Paris Agreement. Trump then took us out of the Paris Agreement again, and is now withdrawing the U.S. from the umbrella organization of the Paris Agreement. I assume that would complicate the efforts of a future president to rejoin the Paris Agreement. Would it be possible for them to rejoin the framework convention? What would have to happen?
Galbraith: So first, the framework convention is the gateway to the Paris Agreement. There’s a provision in the Paris Agreement that says, in order to be in the Paris Agreement, you’ve got to be in the framework convention. And so as a matter of international law, in order to rejoin the Paris Agreement — at least unless it were dramatically amended, which is its own unlikely thing — you would need to be a member of the UNFCCC, which does mean that the question of how you rejoin the UNFCCC becomes significant. We have very little practice on any kind of rejoining. I myself think that the president could simply rejoin the UNFCCC by pointing back to the original Senate resolution of advice and consent to it. You could go back to the Senate. You could ask Congress for a resolution.
My own view is that if the president withdraws the U.S., well, they still have on the books this resolution in which the Senate has consented to ratification — they want to go back in, they go back in. I think this is pretty logically clear, but also an important constraint on presidential power. Because it’s a much more concerning increase in presidential power if you have to do all the work of getting two-thirds of the Senate, then any president can, just at the snap of their fingers, take you out, and you have to go all the way back to the beginning.
Biniaz: There are many options. One is a straightforward option: You go back to the Senate, get 67 votes. Another would be you get both houses of Congress to authorize it [on a majority vote basis]. Another would be — and there may be more — but another would be the idea that the original Senate resolution which we used in 1992 to join still exists, and nothing has extinguished it. And there the analogy would be to a regular law.
There’s several laws in the United States that authorized the president to join some kind of international body or institution. There’s a law that authorizes the president to join the International Labor Organization. There’s a law that authorized the president to join UNESCO. In both of those cases, the U.S. has been in and out and back in — and I think in one case, at least, back out. No one has batted an eye because, well, it’s a law. So the question there would be, is there any reason why a Senate resolution would be any different? Professor Galbraith explores in her law review article that exact question, and concludes that, no, there shouldn’t be a difference — I’m simplifying, but that’s the gist. And under that theory, yeah, a future president could rejoin the convention on his or her own, utilizing that authority, and then after having rejoined the convention, rejoin the Paris Agreement.
So you mentioned that there’s a provision in the UNFCCC that says you have to give notice that you’re exiting, and you wait a year, and then you exit. What does not waiting a year look like?
Galbraith: It can happen that an entity will announce its exit and then violate international law by violating the treaty terms during that one-year period. If there are, say, reporting obligations that the United States has, it would be a violation of international law not to meet those during the period while you’re still a party to the treaty.
This is obviously an escalation of Trump’s previous actions to withdraw from the Paris Agreement, in the sense that it cuts off the path to rejoining that. What does this tell us about the way the Trump administration views its position within global climate diplomacy, and also the international community, period?
Galbraith: It adds to the impression that we already see other contexts, which is that the second Trump administration is even less inhibited and climate-aware than the first administration was — which is really saying something, right? This is an escalation of a position that was already an international outlier. Every other country is in these things, and it shows a real, powerful, and deeply upsetting failure to address the crisis of the global commons.
Biniaz: The way I think about it is that, during Trump 1, it was more like there was an absence of a positive — so in other words, the administration continued to participate in negotiations. They were not pressing countries to take climate action, but neither were they pressing countries not to take climate action. This administration, you could think of it as not just the absence of a positive, but the presence of a negative. I don’t mean that in any judgmental sense. I just mean there’s been much more of an active push from the administration for others to sort of follow suit or to vote against climate-related agreements such as at the [International Maritime Organization]. That’s quite a difference between 1 and 2.
Going into this past year’s COP, it seemed like there was already a sense that international climate diplomacy was, if not dead, at least the wind had come out of the sails. Do you agree? And if so, do you think that wind will come back?
Biniaz: You have to think of international climate diplomacy very broadly. It’s not just the UNFCCC Paris Agreement and decisions that are taken by consensus. That was pretty thin gruel that came out of COP30. But if you think of international climate diplomacy more broadly as all kinds of initiatives, coalitions that are operating among subgroups of countries and at all levels of stakeholders, there’s really a lot going on in what people call the real world. I think over the next couple of years, the proportion of action that’s taken officially, by consensus, dips somewhat, and action goes up. And maybe that balance shifts over time. But I think it’s wrong to judge climate diplomacy simply by what was achievable by 197 countries, because that’s always going to be the hardest to achieve, with or without the United States.
I think it’s more difficult without a pro-climate U.S. because of the role the U.S. has historically played, in terms of promoting ambition and brokering compromises and that kind of thing. But I don’t think, if you only look at that, it’s not the right metric for judging all of global climate diplomacy.
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The EV maker appears to be poised to start construction on its second factory.
Rivian’s stock fell 18% on Monday, but it’s hard to imagine the company’s executives are too upset. Why? Because the automaker seems to be on the verge of starting work on its long-awaited second factory, 45 miles east of downtown Atlanta.
Let’s do some reading between the lines. Rivian has had a great few weeks. The EV maker announced last week that it is on track to sell about 3,000 more cars this year than expected, and its stock has been on a tear, rising more than 37% from close on June 25 to close on Monday.
The company’s CEO, RJ Scaringe, evidently decided it was time to capitalize on the run-up. The company announced on Monday evening that it would offer another 75 million shares of its stock this week, diluting existing investors. That raise would be used to fund “general corporate purposes,” according to a federal filing, including “the funding of certain equity contributions” related to an Energy Department loan.
Back in April, the company came to new terms with the Department of Energy’s in-house bank over a nearly $6.6 billion loan to build its new Georgia factory, which is supposed to manufacture the company’s new line of cheaper R2 SUV and R3 crossovers. That federal loan — initially negotiated in the Biden administration’s final days — was downsized to $4.5 billion under the new Trump-era terms, but also rewritten to let the automaker draw more money from the deal faster. (Rivian is already making the R2 at its existing factory in Normal, Illinois, but the Georgia factory should have about 40% more capacity than that plant.)
As part of any Energy Department loan — as in any project finance transaction — borrowers have to hold a certain amount of cash in escrow and reserve accounts to secure against a deal failing. Now Rivian can fund that money without tapping its cash on hand further. The new share offering is supposed to price this evening, suggesting that despite today’s slide, the company could raise more than $1 billion from the sale. Rivian’s stock is now trading roughly where it stood a month ago.
The upshot of all of this: With the loan secured, serious building efforts could finally start soon on the automaker’s second factory. (The automaker technically broke ground in September, but has yet to begin meaningful construction.)
“We’re setting up to go vertical in the second half of this year (a.k.a. steel sticking out of the ground) but we have said previously that we expect to draw on the loan for the first time by early 2027,” Peebles Squire, a Rivian spokesman, told me in an email. “Factory timeline is production of vehicles to begin in late 2028.”
(Energy Department loans work on a reimbursement basis, so the automaker will need to begin spending on the factory before it can claim the money.)
Though Rivian is among the most successful of the U.S. electric vehicle startups, it wasn’t completely clear after President Trump took office whether the automaker would survive its trek through the valley of death. It’s still not certain, of course. But positive reviews for the R2, a $6 billion deal with Volkswagen, and its significant Sun Belt factory nearing construction all augur well for the country’s most famous EV startup not run by Elon Musk.
“It’s got nothing to do with technology. It’s nothing to do with execution capability. It’s purely due to access to capital.”
Ever since Trump reentered the White House, Europe has been a safe haven for U.S. climate tech companies fleeing an increasingly hostile policy environment. Through strong carbon pricing and stable regulations, the bloc has created demand for still-experimental technologies such as green hydrogen, thermal energy storage, low-carbon building materials, and sustainable fuels.
And yet at the same time, Europe has struggled to finance many of its own climate tech startups as they enter the capital-intensive scale-up phase. What gives?
The problem is not a lack of startups or capital. European firms raised $61 billion for climate-focused funds last year, far outpacing those in the U.S., which brought in $37 billion, according to Sightline Climate. The problem is that almost all of that European money flows to infrastructure and private equity investors backing more mature technologies. Early-stage startups also enjoy relatively strong backing, but the market starves the growth-stage middle.
The issue is both cultural and structural: Most of the bloc’s investors are unaccustomed to making the high-risk, high-reward bets required to scale climate tech. They also often can’t access tools like loan and equity guarantees, which remain limited in Europe, nor are there the institutional limited partners and growth-stage co-investors that could help de-risk those investments.
“It’s got nothing to do with technology. It’s nothing to do with execution capability. It’s purely due to access to capital,” Craig Douglas, a founding partner at the Berlin-based multi-stage venture firm World Fund, told me. That means companies that have outgrown early-stage financing but are still considered too small or too risky for larger institutional investors often either shutter or seek capital abroad. Logically, if given the chance, most startups choose the latter.
“You’re allowing U.S. investors to cherry pick European assets,” Douglas told me. The result? “European technologies and European companies that are successful end up enriching American pension funds rather than European pension funds.”
Ioannis Ioannou, an associate professor of strategy and entrepreneurship at the London Business School, told me that the consequences extend beyond the purely financial, emphasizing that Europe runs a strategic risk by relying on foreign capital for its climate tech scale-up. “It means you lose the supply chains. You lose the skills. You lose the fine manufacturing capabilities. You lose the so-called green jobs.”
Douglas and the other specialists in European climate finance I spoke with emphasized that the ever-ominous “missing middle” funding gap is particularly pronounced in Europe. A report Douglas co-authored earlier this year, aptly titled “The Series B Funding Gap In European Climate Tech,” quantifies the problem. While 25% of U.S. climate tech companies that raised a seed round from 2010 to 2020 had moved on to secure a Series B by the first half of last year — regardless of what country the capital came from — only 15% of European companies were able to do the same. That has created a growing backlog of startups stuck in a financing limbo: The lineup of European companies looking to raise a Series B grew from 220 in 2020 to 533 in the first half of last year.
While smaller climate tech funds in Europe and the U.S. have raised similar amounts of funding for early-stage startups — $18.5 billion in Europe versus $20.2 billion in the U.S. from 2020 through the first half of 2025 — the gap at the larger end of the market is stark. The U.S closed 29 funds of at least $500 million or more, compared with just 11 in Europe. These larger funds are the ones capable of writing the $25 million to $100 million checks companies desperately need to commercialize and scale. As Douglas’ report notes, fewer than 20% of European climate funds are pursuing a growth strategy, with over 70% making early-stage investments only.
“When we raised World Fund One, we were the largest [debut] climate fund in Europe, and we’re a €300 million fund. That’s nuts,” Douglas told me. World Fund aims to help companies “reach growth-investor readiness” by supporting startups from their seed through Series B, a model Douglas would like to see replicated throughout the region. “We need another 20 World Funds out there in the market to start filling this capital shortfall,” he told me. The firm announced last February that it’s raising a second, €500 million fund, but that’s yet to close.
One of the primary reasons European growth-stage investors have less capital to deploy comes down to the structure of European financial markets, which remain heavily reliant on bank lending rather than higher-risk equity investments. As a result, institutional investors like pension funds, insurers, and endowments never built the habit of investing in venture capital, which shows up when comparing the LP bases across the two regions: In the U.S., about 72% of VC funding comes from private institutional investors, compared with just 30% in Europe. Public money, much of it from the European Investment Fund, helps bridge the gap, but it simply cannot match the scale of private institutions.
Pension funds are a telling case. They’re among the largest sources of venture capital in the U.S., allocating nearly 2% of their assets to VC. But in the EU, they allot just 0.018% — roughly 100 times less. And because the U.S. also has far more money sitting in pension funds than Europe does, this makes the gap in actual dollars reaching startups wider still. Without that deep pool of institutional funding, Europe struggles to support the $500 million- to $1 billion-plus funds that would have the wherewithal to lead growth-stage rounds.
The result is a self-reinforcing cycle. Large growth funds require large institutional backers, but precisely because European pension funds and other institutional investors haven’t stepped up, the venture market remains too small to absorb the kinds of $100 million-plus commitments pension investors managing billions of dollars typically want to make. “They don’t see [venture] as an asset class that they can invest in,” Douglas told me. “But the reason that it doesn’t exist is because they’re not investing themselves in that asset class.”
If there’s one thing I learned from my reporting, it’s that white these problems run deep, Europe is hardly standing still. Policymakers and investors are well aware of the disconnect and are now experimenting with strategies to close the scale-up gap and affirm the region’s position as a leader in climate innovation.
To attract more institutional investment, for example, a growing number of initiatives aim to create “funds of funds” and other government-backed structures that pool money from pension funds, insurers, banks, foundations, and other large investors. The fund-of-funds structure lets an institution make a single, large commitment; then, intermediary asset managers break that capital into smaller chunks and invest it across multiple venture funds. This gives large-ticket investors the scale and diversification they want without requiring them to conduct due diligence on dozens of small venture funds; venture managers, in turn, gain access to much larger pools of capital.
Germany’s Wachstumsfonds Deutschland, for example, is a €1 billion fund-of-funds backed by more than 20 investors — including insurers, pension funds, and large family offices — that invests across the German and broader European VC ecosystem, with a focus on growth-stage capital. The EU’s European Tech Champions Initiative follows a similar model. The European Investment Bank and six member-states launched the initiative in 2023 with €3.9 billion to back regional growth-stage VC funds. Now it’s raising a second tranche of money — targeting €15 billion — and is bringing in private institutional capital for the first time.
Europe’s member states have also pushed institutional investors toward coordinated capital commitments in recent years, with France’s Tibi initiative serving as the model. Launched in 2019, it tasks the French government with vetting venture and growth funds, with those that qualify becoming eligible for backing from initiative’s signatories, primarily insurers and some pension funds. The program has attracted about €31 billion in commitments to date. Germany adopted a similar approach with its WIN initiative, which has now secured €12 billion in pledges from more than 30 major corporations — including Deutsche Bank, BlackRock, and Henkel — to invest in the country’s venture ecosystem by 2030.
The Irish Venture Capital Association has proposed a similar model, while Tibi’s founder — the economist Philippe Tibi himself — has been on a tour essentially pitching the idea across the bloc. But Ioannou isn’t convinced that creating country-specific Tibi-style commitments is the most efficient way for the region to scale climate tech.
“I’m not sure that fragmentation will actually solve the problem,” he told me. “Maybe it will be better if all that capital came into one larger fund, whereby the scale-ups wouldn’t have to deal with country level fragmentation, regulations, jurisdictions, legal, and all that kind of stuff.”
That’s the idea behind the new €5 billion pan-EU Scaleup Europe Fund, which is designed to invest directly in European deep-tech startups — climate tech very much included — rather than through venture funds. Announced last year, the fund has already secured roughly €2.5 billion in capital commitments from both the European Commission and private institutional investors, with a second fundraising round planned for the second half of this year. EQT, Europe’s largest private-markets investor, will manage the funds, ultimately deciding which growth-stage companies to back.
“Everything happened so quickly, from agreeing to it to executing on it to allocating it,” Douglas told me. “In effect, it happened in less than a year, which in the European context is crazy.”
The idea is to replicate what the combination of U.S. federal support and deep private capital markets has accomplished, Dimitri Colin, a policy officer at the cleantech policy and advocacy group Cleantech for Europe, told me. “The whole idea is to bring what worked in the U.S. into European public financing policies,” he said. Colin extolled the virtues of the Biden-era Loan Programs Office, as well as the efficacy of other Inflation Reduction Act-fueled efforts such as generous production tax credits when it comes to derisking investment in first-of-a-kind tech.
In our interview as well as in a recent report, Colin argued that EU funding should move from prioritizing grants to loan and equity guarantees in its forthcoming budget for the years 2028 through 2034. That’s because guarantees have proven far more effective than government grants at bringing private investors into climate tech, Colin told me. According to his report, every euro of grants or equity capital channeled through the VC arm of the European Innovation Council yields about €3 in additional investment. That’s nothing to scoff at, but it pales in comparison with InvestEU, the bloc’s €26.2 billion investment guarantee program. Every euro of guarantees from the latter attracts nearly €14.80 in private follow-on capital.
“The main idea behind the whole budget should be to focus on the leverage effect,” Colin told me, referring to how much additional private funding government backing generates. “How can the little public money that we have in Europe — because the fiscal environment is, of course, very constrained — more easily mobilize private money? That’s what the LPO did well.”
Colin also wants to change the EU’s public funding rules to make it easier to subsidize ongoing operational expenses for early-stage cleantech facilities, similar in effect to U.S. production tax credits. Currently, European policymakers often structure public support for these projects as capex grants paid out after construction is complete. This type of support is more difficult for private investors to underwrite since it doesn’t directly improve the plant’s ongoing operating economics, one of the risks investors care about most.
Getting these financing structures right is a matter of life or death for many of Europe’s most promising climate tech industries. Douglas points to batteries, critical minerals, semiconductors, and green molecules as sectors with the technological readiness to scale domestically — but not yet the capital. “One of the major risks in every sector we know is who’s going to be there, who’s going to be able to go with us on that journey to make sure the company has the capital to be successful,” he told me. Still, he sees reason for optimism. Because if there’s one thing that can be said about the E.U. at this moment, it’s that “they’re definitely taking it seriously.”
“The perfect solution doesn’t exist,” Colin told me. “We need to align the funding models, we need public de-risking tools, but we need also a true industrial strategy, China has done that, the US has done that with the IRA,” he explained. Now it’s Europe’s turn.
Not going to lie, I didn’t see this coming.
Tesla just finished its strongest showing in years. In the second quarter of 2026, the company sold about 480,000 vehicles around the world — well over stock market projections of about 400,000 EVs. Tesla’s sales mark a full 25% year-over-year increase from the second quarter of last year.
If you’re surprised by this news, you’re not alone. Sales of Elon Musk’s EVs had been trending downward over the past few years following a series of self-inflicted wounds. The Cybertruck was a bomb. Tesla appeared to be interested only in building the self-driving cars and autonomous robots of the future, not the electric vehicles of today. Musk’s associations with President Trump and off-putting online politics alienated potential customers everywhere.
Yet here we are. So what happened?
European gas prices, for one thing. Tesla sales actually continued to fall in the U.S., where the electric car market as a whole still hasn’t recovered from tariffs confusion, the loss of federal subsidies, and other chaotic conditions over the past year. Tesla’s rally came instead from China and, interestingly, Europe: Registrations rose 39% in Denmark, 56% in Sweden, and 43% in Portugal and Italy.
It wasn’t so long ago that Musk’s politics had reportedly cratered interest in his cars in those countries. But European gas prices, which are typically much higher than those in the U.S., have also soared because of oil shocks related to the Iran War. EV interest, then, is up — so high that lots of buyers are willing to look past the personality of Tesla’s chief. (It doesn’t hurt that Tesla introduced less-expensive versions of both Model 3 and Model Y, with remarkably cheap leases and loans, to Europe this year to help overcome its struggles there.)
In China, meanwhile, Tesla has had something else up its sleeve to buoy sales. We’ve repeatedly noted the contraction of the company’s EV lineup: With the failure of the Cybertruck as well as the outright cancellation of the older and slow-selling Model S and Model X — the electric cars that pushed Tesla into the mainstream in the 2010s — the brand gets nearly all of its sales (more than 97% in Q2) from just two cars, the Model 3 sedan and Model Y crossover. And there are no signs it has an all-new mass-market car coming soon.
Instead, Tesla cobbled one together by making a new version of an existing car. In China, Musk has been selling the Model Y L, a version of his crossover with its platform stretched out by 6 inches to cram in an extra row of seats. (Tesla has offered a seven-seat version of its ordinary Model Y, but the two little seats in the back had just 25 inches of legroom compared to the 31 inches in this new version.) As a three-row SUV, the longer Model Y lets Tesla compete in a space that it vacated when it killed off the giant, expensive, gullwing-doored Model X. And as of last week, Model Y L is available in the U.S. Tesla hopes the vehicle can lead to a reversal of its sinking fortunes here, where its EV sales shrank by 20% in the second quarter.
Truthfully, the car is a bit of a kluge. Rear seats often require a compromise on comfort and space. In the case of the Model Y L, Jalopnik notes that even with the 6 inches added to the wheelbase, Tesla’s signature sloping roof doesn’t leave much headroom for the occupants of the way-back. Boxier EVs that were built to be three rows to begin with, like the Hyundai Ioniq 9, Kia EV9, and Rivian R1S, are more pleasant for the fifth and sixth passengers. Nevertheless, those who wanted a bigger Tesla at a starting price of around $60,000 can now get one, and that counts.
Model Y L is also a testament to the power of the platform. Yes, building a new vehicle from the ground up would have provided Tesla with a better all-around vehicle than what it got by hacking the Model Y. But the modified Model Y was much faster and cheaper to deliver, providing an entry into a popular segment of the car market just at the moment Tesla needed to right the ship.
Doing more with less, like creating a three-row EV on the platform of your two-row car, looks primed to become a big part of the future of electric vehicles. That’s particularly true when it comes to growing adoption in America, where legacy automakers and startups alike are trying to simplify manufacturing to bring down costs. The solution to get to market for a company like Honda was simply to borrow General Motors’ EV platform and build its first EV on top of it. Rivian has said it has no plans to sell a pickup truck on its new R2 platform the way it has with its original vehicle, but it absolutely could — and arguably should — if market conditions suddenly made such an EV pickup a hot item.