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The all-American EV startup is cutting costs to survive.

America’s most interesting electric-vehicle company is about to have the defining year of its life.
On Wednesday, the company reported that it lost $1.58 billion in the fourth quarter of last year, bringing its net annual losses to $5.4 billion. It announced that it is laying off about 10% of its salaried employees, but — at the same time — promised that it has a plan to achieve a small profit by the end of this year.
Rivian does not seem to be in trouble — not quite yet, at least. But the earnings made clear what electric-vehicle observers have known for a long time: Either the company will emerge from this year poised to be a winner in the EV transition, or it will find itself up against the wall.
That’s partially because Rivian has a stomach-turning number of corporate milestones coming up. Over the next 11 months, it plans to unveil an entirely new line of vehicles, shut down its factory for several weeks for cost-saving upgrades, break ground on a new $5 billion facility in Georgia, and — most importantly — turn a profit for the first time. It also expects to manufacture and deliver roughly another 60,000 vehicles to customers.
Any one of these goals would be difficult to achieve in any environment. But Rivian is going to have to execute all of them during a time defined by “economic and geopolitical uncertainties” and especially high interest rates, its CEO R.J. Scaringe told investors on Wednesday. Since 2021, Rivian’s once robust stockpile of cash has been cut in half to about $7 billion; at its current burn rate, the company will run out of money in a little more than two years.
Although Rivian’s situation is dire, it’s not experiencing anything out of the ordinary. As I’ve written before, the electric truck maker is crossing what commentators sometimes call “the EV valley of death.” This is the challenging point in a company’s life cycle where it has developed a product and scaled it up to production — thereby raising its operating expenses to eye-watering levels — but where its revenue has not yet increased too.
During this vulnerable period, a company essentially burns through its cash on hand in the hope that more customers and serious revenue will soon show up. If those customers don’t arrive, then it either needs to raise more cash … or it runs out of money and goes bankrupt.
It’s a frightening time, but once a company crosses the valley of death, it can reach an idyll. Not so long ago, Tesla found itself in something like Rivian’s position as it prepared to launch the Model 3. Seven years later, it is the most valuable automaker in the world.
Once Rivian’s revenue exceeds its costs, its problems will get easier, or at least more straightforward: Instead of fighting for its survival and watching its cash reserves dwindle, Scaringe will be able to make more strategic trade-offs. Should the company cut costs to expand its profit margin and reward investors, or should it pass the savings along to customers in the form of lower prices, thus growing its market share? Scaringe can’t make these types of decisions until his firm is safely out of the valley.
Claire McDonough, Rivian’s chief financial officer and a former J.P. Morgan director, has a plan for crossing that canyon — an aptly if strangely named “bridge to profitability” that it will attempt to build this year. Rivian’s survival, she said, will depend above all on cutting the unit costs of producing its vehicles, including by using fewer materials to make every car. Other savings will come from making more vehicles faster. That’s what makes the shutdown plan, though it might seem extreme, worth it; McDonough said those improvements alone will get the company about 80% of the way to profitability.
Another 15% will come from marketing more “software-enabled products” to Rivian drivers and by selling air-pollution credits to other carmakers, whose vehicles are not as climate-friendly. This is a tried-and-true technique; Tesla first turned a profit in 2021 by selling regulatory credits needed to comply with federal and California state-level rules to other, dirtier automakers. But that same year, Tesla also debuted an entirely new vehicle: the Model Y crossover, which quickly became its top seller in the United States. Tesla, in other words, finally started to make money by cutting costs, finding new revenue sources, and releasing new products.
New products, however, are becoming a weak point for Rivian. The company says that high interest rates will keep demand for its vehicles flat this year. It expects to make about 60,000 of them, about 20,000 fewer than what it had once anticipated. The Rivian R1S, a three-row S.U.V., has become the company’s flagship; it is selling better and is cheaper to manufacture than Rivian’s pickup, the R1T. It also costs at least $75,000, or nearly $600 a month to lease. The highest-tier models can cost $99,000. Turns out, it’s difficult to sell a lot of $70,000 trucks when even the cheapest new-car loans hover around 6%.
Rivian once had a first-to-market advantage in the electric three-row SUV market, but that may be fizzling out, too. Kia is now selling its own all-electric three-row SUV, the EV9, for $18,000 less than the R1S; in fact, the Kia EV9’s most expensive trim costs $76,000, which is only slightly more than the cheapest R1S. The Kia SUV can also charge faster than the Rivian under ideal conditions. It remains an open question how many rich suburbanites are still interested in buying Rivians, especially now that the Tesla Cybertruck and Ford F-150 Lightning are competing directly with Rivian’s pickup truck.
The company’s hopes, in other words, rest on its next product line: the R2, which it will launch on March 7. We know almost nothing about the R2 line, except that it will probably include an SUV, that it will go on sale in 2026, and that it will fall somewhere in the $45,000 to $55,000 price range. (The median new car transaction in the United States now costs $48,200.) Last year, Scaringe told me that the R2’s timing was perfect because it would fit “beautifully with what we see as this big shift” in the American EV market. In today’s market, he said, “a lot of people ask themselves, Am I gonna get an electric car? Well maybe the next one.” He better hope they’ll start buying that next one in 2026.
Even if they do, Rivian may still have to confront the problem that Tesla has changed the EV market before Rivian could get there. When the first Tesla Model 3s were delivered in 2017, the sedan was instantly one of the best EVs on the market — because it was one of the only EVs on the market. Now every automaker in the world has plans to compete at the Model 3’s price point.
Rivian’s fortunes don’t rest entirely on American consumers; it also sells vans to commercial fleet operators, as well as delivery trucks to Amazon. (Amazon owns about 17% of Rivian.) But that business can be lumpy. Rivian’s vehicle growth slowed down last quarter, for instance, almost entirely because of a near pause in sales to Amazon, which sets up fewer new vehicles in the fourth quarter. If Amazon is willing to bail out Rivian, in other words, it’s not yet clear in the data.
None of this is to say that the company’s outlook is dire. Rivian was always going to find itself at a moment like this, when its expenses exceeded its revenue by such a large amount. The automaker already has devoted fans, and many people — myself included — are interested in the R2 as a potential first EV purchase.
And the company has shown that it can make strides in a single year. Twelve months ago, I had never seen a Rivian on the road before; today, one is regularly parked on my block. The company rocketed from a standing start to become the No. 5 best-selling electric car brand in America last year. What the company has done so far is impressive. But now it must prove that it can be great.
Editor's note: This story has been updated to correctly reflect Rivian's cash burn rate.
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A conversation with Sam Lyman of the Bitcoin Policy Institute.
This week’s conversation is with Sam Lyman, head of research at the Bitcoin Policy Institute. Originally focused on cryptocurrency, Lyman’s organization has expanded to policy and messaging development around data centers, most notably providing research many AI boosters cite to claim foreign influence is driving opposition to new hyperscale projects. Last week, the think tank released a new report calling for a novel solution to the data center permitting bottleneck: direct cash payments from data center projects to individuals involved with building them, as well as residents nearby facilities once they’re operating.
I reached out to BPI and asked for a chat with Lyman about the data center dividend proposal. I also tried to get to the bottom of where this increasingly relevant think tank stands on the general idea of a national data center law. The conversation was immensely informative. So here it is, in a lightly abridged and edited format.
Let’s start with the data center dividend proposal. Walk my readers through it.
Data center dividends came from the idea that, ideally in the AI revolution, we want all Americans to benefit. Especially rural Americans. You look at the landscape today, the majority of AI data centers are being built in rural America. It’s critical they’ll benefit from the massive wealth AI will unlock.
There’s lots of ways to make that happen. People point to the jobs AI data centers will build out, for example. But with data center dividends, we take the logic of the Alaska Permanent Fund and we apply it to America’s rural counties, which are sitting on a proverbial gold mine right now but lack any kind of public mechanism allowing them to benefit from that in a maximal way.
If you look at the tax revenue these data centers create, which is astronomical, how do we distribute this tax revenue in a way where it has the most tangible impact on the families living there? We believe data center dividends are the best way to do that – after allocating money for schools, public safety, and infrastructure, it allows these counties with tens of millions of dollars left over to distribute them as they see fit. They should distribute that money to the men and women who make those data centers happen in the first place.
The most effective form of a dividend would take a direct payment: a cash payment, a physical check, a direct deposit. Or the form of credits paying back property taxes, utility bills, an endowment for scholarships. There’s a number of different forms this can take.
Hopefully this gets the conversation going about how we can make these work for everybody.
Who do you want to see set up this dividend mechanism? How’s your approach to implementation?
The report is addressed to county commissioners. I’m thinking of commissioners who represent both sides of the political spectrum facing this huge backlash. Many of them want to do good by their communities and their voters, even if it means doing a data center, in places where it’s difficult to explain right now. Dividends make this indisputably clear.
I tried to put myself in the shoes of an enterprising county commissioner who sees the merits in the data center buildout and wants to break out of the political storm. It’s important to note data centers can be a huge economic boon for communities, in ways that can impact lives positively.
Have any communities – counties, as you noted – taken this idea up yet? Are there any models for this proposal?
The best analogue is West Feliciana, Louisiana, which is the case study we feature. West Feliciana made an agreement with a data center developer where in lieu of taxes, they make direct payments of about $90 million a year to the parish. That triples the community’s tax budget every year. It leaves ample room not only for essential services but dividends afterwards. Louisiana then passed a law – Act 434 – that allowed West Feliciana to remit some of those payments to residents as a tax credit. This bill first provided the opportunity for the parish to even remit those payments as cash, but it was changed in the legislature to make it a credit. That’s the closest we’ve gotten so far.
As far as reaching out to individual counties, we’re a think tank. We put ideas into the universe. We haven’t had anyone reach out to us since the publication of the report so far but we’re hoping they will.
Your report does lay out how there’s a bottleneck in development and this could help with easing it. Do you see an impetus to put ideas like the dividend out there right now, in light of the increased data center scrutiny in this year’s midterms?
Our publication is irrespective of the midterms. But it is tied to the fact that a bottleneck facing the data center buildout includes it becoming a politicized issue. We’re of the belief these projects shouldn't be political at all. One way to break through the noise is by showing how they can benefit those involved in construction and residents who live there. Data centers are critical infrastructure; other forms of critical infrastructure aren’t being politicized. Our efforts are to demonstrate how these shouldn’t be political.
When it comes to the future of AI data center regulation, this proposal is obviously geared towards incentivizing a resolution to the bottleneck through using resources produced from data centers – namely, new investment.
Where does your organization stand on the increased push for environmental or siting regulation on AI data centers?
I’m not familiar with what you might be referring to there.
I mean, there’s all kinds of proposals at the federal level and in states for everything from being required to pay for infrastructure upgrades to being required to use closed-loop cooling to siting restrictions, like temporary moratoria.
What I’m asking is, what else do you as an organization believe when it comes to regulating AI data center development at the federal level? State level?
We believe data centers should work for the communities where they’re being built. That’s important. So the concept of BYOP – Bring Your Own Power – we very much support that idea. We think the Ratepayer Protection Pledge is a great proposal because ultimately we want data centers, with them being critical infrastructure, to not only strengthen our national security but strengthen the communities where they’re being built.
Some states are rejecting data centers. We think that’s a mistake because it's something that’ll ultimately short-change the people who live there. For the states that do decide to build data centers, it's up to them what regulations make data centers more sustainable over time.
There’s increased public discussion for policy on AI development – as an organization, do you see any role in the federal government making policy here with a national data center law?
We think AI will be key to America’s prosperity over the long-term. We have concerns about the regulation of open-source artificial intelligence; bitcoin is a form of open-source software and open-source money. We believe intelligence should be something available to all Americans. That’s our concern with talk about regulating AI right now, it feels like a ploy for regulatory capture.
But what about national policy on AI data centers? Does your think tank support the national legislature doing a federal data center bill or is that something best for localities or states?
It depends on the bill. Are you talking about Sen. Bernie Sanders’ national moratorium?
With a permitting deal seemingly on the horizon, Republican Gabe Evans and Democrat Scott Peters may be about to see their partnership pay off.
The fate of permitting reform legislation that could smooth the way to all kinds of new and improved energy infrastructure — including transmission lines and renewables — is currently hostage to opaque discussions between Senate committee chairs. Rhode Island Senator Sheldon Whitehouse, the Democratic ranking member of the Senate Environment and Public Works Committee, told a Rhode Island business group earlier this week that “we’re actually in a pretty good place on permitting reform,” and that there was “maybe another week of negotiations.” Whitehouse’s Republican counterpart on the EPW committee, West Virginia Senator Shelly Moore-Capito, told Semafor on Friday that any bill has “got to pop out of here in the next 48 hours.”
If that’s going to happen, it will be because Republicans and Democrats have decided it’s worth it to get along. Any deal will eventually have to be voted on by the House, which has already produced several bills on a bipartisan basis, and even passed one — the SPEED Act — late last year.
Two of the busier House members on this issue are Scott Peters, a Democratic former environmental lawyer from San Diego, and Gabe Evans, a first term Colorado Republican representing a suburban and rural district north of Denver that includes wind farms and crude oil production. “The district that I represent truly is an all of the above energy district,” Evans told me.
Their latest effort is a bill aimed at smoothing out permitting for transmission development, especially interregional transmission. Last week, the two congressmen unveiled the CLEAR Act, seeking to apply a stricter set of standards for lawsuits against transmission projects that aligned with how natural gas and hydropower projects are treated under the Federal Power Act (it’s much harder to sue to stop these projects). Earlier this year, the two also sponsored the CERTAIN Act, a more comprehensive streamlining of federal permitting for energy infrastructure projects.
“We’re proud to have a lot of our work as the foundation for this, and I think if they send us over something that includes this, it’s got a really good chance of passing in the House,” Peters told me. Evans added that bringing forward bipartisan bills “gives a little bit more impetus to the Senate to know that the House is looking for these things.”
While the Senate’s deal will be up to the senators, Peters told me he envisions a broad permitting package that could include reforms to the National Environmental Policy Act to shorten permitting timelines, preventing the president from nixing individual projects, and reform Section 401 of the Clean Water Act which effectively devolves power to tribes and states to block a variety of interstate projects. “I think it’s coming together pretty well,” Peters said. “Obviously, we’re waiting for white smoke from the Senate.”
A permitting reform package may be one of the last major bills several bipartisan-minded House members get to vote on.
Election day is about six weeks off, and while Peters will likely have an easy time getting reelected for this eighth term, Evans is in a tough race. His purple-hued district is a target for the House Democratic campaign arm, which is hoping to flip it to former Colorado House of Representatives member Manny Rutinel, who worked as a lawyer at the environmental group Earthjustice. The Cook Political Report rates the race as toss-up, and Nate Silver gives Rutinel a roughly 75% to win.
But Rutinel won’t be getting any campaign help from Peters.
When I asked Peters about the timing of releasing a bill that could boost an endangered Republican’s bipartisan bona fides less than two months before an election, Peters told me that he and Evans had been working on it “for a while,” and that “my colleagues know that I’ve worked with Republicans to get problems solved.”
He said he wasn’t “participating in Gabe’s election” and wasn’t giving any money to his campaign, but also that he wouldn’t campaign Evans’ challenger, despite the opportunity to bolster his own caucus.
Peters is not shy about praising Evans. “What I appreciate about Gabe is that it takes a little bit of initiative to separate yourself from the majority — particularly when you’re in the trifecta — and do your own thing. He’s been a good partner in helping find ways to reduce process and make things go faster,” he told me.
Evans told me that he and Peters met early in this Congress, as Evans was getting settled into his new office in the Longworth building. “We’ve built the relationship over the last two years with a lot of the different areas that we’ve collaborated on.”
“I always try to meet the members of my committee and find out who will work with me. And I was fortunate to find Gabe,” Peters said.
“I do want to win the majority in the next Congress,” Peters went on, but “the norm should be that we figure out ways to work together to solve problems, and, you know, we’ll let the voters of Colorado 8 decide who to send me.”
Evans, for his part, told me that he had to work with Democrats to get anything passed as a member of a minuscule Republican minority in the Colorado statehouse, and that the 40-plus members of the bipartisan Problem Solvers Caucus have agreed not to campaign against each other. “There’s 385 other members that you can go pick fights with,” he said.
A new analysis by a one-time atomic energy opponent makes a bull case for big reactors.
If you know anything about the cost of nuclear energy in America, you probably are aware that the most recent reactors built — the only two new ones designed, planned, and constructed since the 1990s — were budget busters. Units 3 and 4 of Southern Company’s Alvin W. Vogtle Generating Station in eastern Georgia were the first of a new generation of reactor technology ever to be deployed in the U.S. Construction delays, changes to the design, and corporate bankruptcies ultimately sent the price of the pair of Westinghouse AP1000s — the Ford Mustang of American nuclear technology, with safety features that essentially make them not just powerful but also meltdown-proof — to nearly $40 billion, or about $16,350 per kilowatt.
But the U.S. once built reactors for half that — and it did so in the chaotic aftermath of the nation’s worst civilian nuclear accident, when mounting regulations made atomic power construction more onerous than ever before.
That’s the landmark finding of a new report by a veteran nuclear researcher, who quantified and broke down the cost of constructing nearly every civilian atomic power station the U.S. built in the 20th century. Adjusting the dollar figures using the Handy-Whitman Index, a specialized formula for calculating inflation in the utility sector’s construction costs, the analysis — shared exclusively with Heatmap — concluded that 47 reactors built in the U.S. between the 1979 partial meltdown at Pennsylvania’s Three Mile Island nuclear plant and the turn of the millennium came in at an average of $8,200 per kilowatt.
“Costs are only going to come down from that,” Charles Komanoff, the economist and energy policy analyst whose consultancy conducted the study on behalf of the Clean Air Task Force, told me.
The paper carves out a pathway down the cost curve that runs counter to the industry’s broader consensus at the moment on the best way to make nuclear less of a luxury choice compared to other generating sources. Billions of dollars have flooded into companies promising to commercialize small modular reactors that generate 300 megawatts or less. The concept is a bet on what Komanoff calls the economies of duplication, meaning that if customers need more individual reactors, developers can ride that repetition to lower prices. But the paper suggests that the way developers have historically reduced nuclear costs — through economies of scale — achieves the same per-kilowatt savings with one gigawatt-sized, water-cooled reactor as 20 smaller reactors would net.
Some small and microreactor developers say that using alternative coolants — molten salt, liquid sodium, high-temperature gases such as helium — could further raise the efficiency of their technologies, allowing them to make up for whatever they lose on economies of scale. But large, traditional reactors such as the AP1000 are “a proven technology” that, unlike next-generation reactors with far less operating experience, won’t have to overcome “teething problems” to reach maximum efficiency levels, Komanoff told me.
There are other options to the AP1000, such as the ABWR that the parent companies of GE Vernova Hitachi Nuclear Energy built in Japan and Taiwan in the 1990s. One was planned for Texas, but abandoned a decade ago amid declining interest in nuclear power post-Fukushima. The technology is approved by the NRC, but GE-Hitachi has since turned its attention to its 300-megawatt BWRX-300. Given that no ABWR was built in the U.S., James Boucher, the former Deloitte nuclear consultant who co-authored the paper, said the AP1000 is the reactor best positioned to replicate the country’s successful buildout of the 1980s.
“We have two AP1000s. They're fully built. They’re operating. They’re doing, as far as I can tell, quite well. And they are like these reactors in our sample,” Boucher told me. “If we wanted to build 20, 30, 50 more AP1000s, I think we’d have a good shot.”
The Nuclear Company, a startup developer that hired much of the team behind the Vogtle buildout in a bid to become the go-to project manager for future AP1000s, called Komanoff’s report “promising because it demonstrates how cost can come down when we don’t focus on building first-of-a-kind projects.”
“There was a 30% overnight capital cost reduction just moving from Unit 3 to Unit 4 on the Vogtle project — there is no reason we can’t continue down the learning curve on the next AP1000s built in this country,” Joe Klecha, The Nuclear Company’s chief nuclear officer and president, told me after reviewing the report I sent him. “Especially with our mix of experience building these reactors and advancements in technology we’re leveraging to scale, achieving below $10,000 per kilowatt is just the beginning for us. We believe we can execute safer, faster, and at lower cost than we’ve achieved in the past.”
Back in the 1980s, the military-like regimentation common at nuclear plants and construction sites wasn’t yet as ingrained in the industry. The Nuclear Regulatory Commission had replaced the Atomic Energy Commission, which was seen as too deferential to the companies it oversaw, and spent the decade tightening rules on constructing and operating nuclear plants. New accident scenarios were being discovered, requiring new plants and existing ones up for relicensing to change operating protocols, upgrade equipment, and conduct additional research.
Komanoff was among those pushing for the changes. In reports he authored on behalf of Greenpeace, an arch opponent of nuclear power, he dissected the fiscal woes atomic energy developers faced, making the economic case for shutting down electrical stations that his fellow activists battled on ecological or moral grounds. Eventually, Komanoff moved on to advocating for a carbon tax as the fairest and clearest way to guide the economy away from fossil fuels and toward decarbonization. While serving as director of the Carbon Tax Center, which he co-founded, he noticed a trend among nuclear plants: They were getting better at operating.
The regulatory changes that followed Three Mile Island succeeded in raising the operating efficiencies of nuclear plants. In the 1970s, reactors had a capacity factor — a measure of how frequently a generating source actually produces electricity — of about 50%. Yet by 1991, that number had risen to 70%, putting atomic energy on par with the most efficient fossil fuel and hydroelectric plants. In 2002, that national average hit 90%. In 2019, it rose to 94%. When the final reactor at Indian Point, the nuclear station that served Komanoff’s native New York City, closed in 2021 due to political opposition to its relicensing, it had just set a world record for an uninterrupted 753-day run of electricity production.
Gradually, Komanoff came to see nuclear power as a vital tool for decarbonization. But, ensconced in the climate movement through his carbon tax advocacy, he found it easier to stay mum on his conversion, lest he ruffle the feathers of fellow activists who remained stalwart anti-nuclearists. After all, he thought, if a carbon tax passes, nuclear plants will benefit, so why bother speaking up specifically for atomic energy? Indian Point’s early shutdown, however, caused Komanoff pangs of regret.
“It just forced me to confront the consequences of not advocating for nuclear power,” he said. “I felt the way I imagined I would feel if a climbing partner — I used to be a sort of mountaineer — had died because of some negligence on my part. I really took personal responsibility because I imagined that — and maybe I’m just in a complete fantasy about my shamanistic power — as someone who had argued 40 years ago for shutting Indian Point, that if I had gone public say ‘Don’t do it,’ that I might have been able to begin turning the tide.”
While $8,200 per kilowatt is half of what Vogtle cost, it’s still nearly four times the cost of building a new natural gas-burning power plant with combined-cycle turbines, which itself rose to $2,157 per kilowatt last year from less than $1,500 in 2023. But the “regulatory churn” that kept the price of nuclear high, Komanoff said, is unlikely to return for new nuclear plants using proven designs such as the AP1000.
“Part of my optimism about nuclear being less subject to regulatory churn going forward is because it’s not a whipping boy,” he said. “It’s really hard to overstate the aura of incompetence that surrounded the nuclear power sector in the United States in the ‘70s into the ‘80s. But when you’ve got plants that are averaging 90% or higher capacity factors, things change.”