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Toyota and Honda never really believed in EVs. Then China gave them a wake-up call.
An entire nation’s automotive industry may have misjudged the moment. Environmental issues are forcing changes it doesn’t seem ready for. New competitors boasting more efficient technologies have led some observers to wonder if it will survive at all.
Am I talking about America’s automotive industry during the infamous 1970s Malaise Era, or the Japanese auto industry in the 2020s? In the growing arms race around battery-electric vehicles, Japan’s automakers may have some serious catching up to do.
On a lot of levels, comparing the Toyota of today to, say, Ford in 1977 is rather unfair. After all, automakers like Toyota, Honda, Mazda, Subaru and the rest — though hammered by the pandemic and the chip shortage — continue to be handsomely profitable and still produce high-quality, reliable, and fuel-efficient traditional cars and hybrids. It’s hard to start a Death Watch for a company like Toyota when it sold more than 10 million cars globally last year.
But buyers who are loyal to Japanese brands and want to break up with gasoline entirely are better served by Tesla, Ford, Chevrolet, or Hyundai.
Nissan, an early pioneer in the EV world with the soon-to-be-discontinued Leaf, offers just one electric crossover and its production is already flagging. Mazda’s sole battery electric vehicle, the MX-30, only has about 100 miles of range and is only sold in California, as if it were a compliance car from a decade ago. Toyota has one battery-electric vehicle it co-developed with Subaru and also sells as a Lexus. All three versions suffer from middling range, subpar tech, and a lack of fast-charing power like many rivals; two were also recalled last year because their wheels were falling off. (It doesn’t, to paraphrase a TV show from my youth, smack of effort.) Then there’s Honda, which has just one fully electric SUV coming out next year called the Prologue — and under the skin, it’s actually one of General Motors’ EVs.
It’s an unfathomable outcome for the Japanese auto industry. Not that long ago, Japan Inc. was teaching the rest of the world how to efficiently and reliably make cars; Honda was making engines for GM, not the other way around. Now, even Toyota, the creator of the Prius and godfather of the original hybrid car, is being called out by environmental activist groups.
Things do seem to be changing rapidly. Several Japanese automakers are planning multibillion-dollar battery plants now, including in the U.S.; Honda is doing one in Ohio, Nissan in Tennessee, and Toyota in North Carolina. All of them, including tiny, independent Mazda, are planning big expansions of their all-electric lineups.
Toyota, in particular, has signaled under its new CEO that it’s deadly serious about EVs. Earlier this month the automaker announced what it calls “New Technology That Will Change the Future of Cars”: a significant revamping of its manufacturing processes to cut EV costs; a third of its global sales to be electric by 2030; newer, cheaper kinds of batteries; and ultimately, solid-state batteries — a kind of holy-grail technology being sought by countless companies — that could enable 900 miles of electric driving.
But it’s worth asking how these companies got relegated to “EV laggard” status, and the answer is complicated. In talking to countless people in and around the auto industry, I’ve come to the conclusion that Japan’s predicament has to do with perception as much as it does with conditions on the ground. And it speaks to the question of whether the future of cars will really — or should be — be fully battery-powered, and if so, how long it will take to get there.
But given how heavily the car market is trending toward battery EVs right now, Japan’s automakers may not have a choice but to meet the moment.
As global as car companies are, they’re often still rooted in their cultures and values at the home office. And Japan has plenty of reasons to be skeptical of battery EVs.
As a country, it’s poor in natural resources, making the raw materials key to EV batteries tough to obtain. Japan’s densely populated cities make car ownership generally undesirable, let alone ones that need to be charged somewhere. And the 2011 Fukushima disaster led to a decline in electricity from nuclear power plants. Japan made up the gap using fossil fuels, leading to a belief that fully battery-powered cars wouldn’t be as “green” as fuel-sipping hybrids since they relied on a dirty energy grid.
That local backdrop helps explain why Toyota, usually the world’s largest or second-largest automaker, has tilted so heavily toward hybrid evangelism. Over the past few years, it’s turned much of its car lineup into hybrids, even its latest pickup trucks — a stratospheric reduction in carbon emissions, which the company deserves credit for. It argues that it takes fewer scarce minerals to build smaller batteries for hybrids than full EVs.
And Toyota says that it operates globally, with cars tailored to different regions’ needs; it’s a lot easier to fully electrify the cars in a country like Norway than it is in parts of Africa, where Toyota is a top-seller.
Finally, Toyota has spent several decades leading the charge for hydrogen as a power source for cars — both for fuel-cell EVs and as a zero-carbon liquid fuel for internal combustion. But right now, Toyota sells just one hydrogen fuel-cell car in America and only a handful of fueling stations exist on this continent. I’ve heard from those in the know that Toyota viewed hydrogen as a kind of 100-year project; the first in a long-term push toward what could become a kind of hydrogen-powered society as the supplies dwindled and petroleum became too expensive for most people.
But things have changed in recent years to challenge that thesis. Volkswagen’s diesel cheating scandal didn’t put a nail in internal combustion’s coffin, but it did force it to pick out a burial plot. Tesla’s sky-high stock price has investors demanding the same from other car companies. And the data around rising global temperatures from carbon emissions has only gotten more shocking in recent years. Hydrogen — which shows promise in heavy trucking, aviation and industrial applications — could still be a major fuel source, but the world clearly can’t wait 100 years.
Then there’s China, which is what really made the wake-up call that kicked Japan out of bed.
This year’s Auto Shanghai show, a motor industry expo that was the first one held in person since China’s COVID lockdowns ended, showed the world just how far ahead the Chinese automakers are with battery EVs. Driven by government mandates and ample funding, their battery supply chains are robust, their sales are booming, they’re rapidly expanding into places like Europe and Australia where they’re getting good reviews to boot. (For now, Chinese cars are kept out of the U.S. market by steep tariffs, but their arrival seems inevitable — if American consumers will have them.) And in China, those buyers are turning away from “foreign” brands like Honda, Ford and Toyota to buy local.
Even if you think, as I do, that any transition to an EV car market will be messier and take longer than even car companies will publicly admit, the staggering public and private investments into battery plants and EV tech prove this is where the market is going right now. America alone is dumping billions of tax dollars into EV incentives and charging stations. Last week, Ford got a $9.2 billion Department of Energy loan and it’s certainly not for hydrogen fuel cells.
Meanwhile, demand for battery EVs is soaring; their share of the car market in America increases like clockwork every quarter. Hybrids are starting to be considered passé among the green crowd, even if they don’t necessarily deserve to be.
In order to compete in the world’s two biggest car markets now and beyond, they need to go electric. And soon.
It’s also important to understand that the entire auto industry’s move to battery electric power is a reluctant one. If any of these car companies could get a free pass to keep making the same kinds of cars and engines, with the same parts suppliers, dealer networks, and sales models they’ve used for a century, they’d take it in a heartbeat. Excitement from the marketing department masks real, palpable fears about whether they can pull it off or not, and we should all be questioning the authenticity of promises to go “zero-emission” by a hard date like 2035 even as they put billions of dollars into making new gasoline trucks and SUVs. The auto industry is slow to change on its best day, and this very expensive sea change is driven by regulations, China, and Tesla, not a passion for clean transportation.
So if you argue the Japanese automakers are behind the curve on EVs, you also have to ask, behind whom and behind how? The Tesla Model Y is now the best-selling car in the world, but Tesla struggles to launch new products; the same cannot be said of Toyota. EVs are still expensive and unprofitable for most car companies. Even Japan’s competitors are just now ramping up battery factories in America, driven by climate-friendly legislation pushed through over the past two years by the Biden administration. And every car company making EVs — GM, Ford, Hyundai, Volkswagen, all of them — is dealing with production defects, delays, software bugs, battery issues, and other problems.
But as Automotive News reported recently, Tesla and the Chinese car companies are not just making EVs but resetting the entire manufacturing process just as the “lean” manufacturing techniques pioneered by Toyota once did. Now Japan’s automakers are having to rethink how they make cars, just as they once forced the Americans and Europeans to do. Indeed, the future of Toyota manufacturing looks a lot like what Tesla’s doing now, which says a lot.
This isn’t just about making a new type of car; it’s about rethinking the entire car industry from top to bottom, including how the labor force and supply lines operate. Every automaker is still figuring it out. But while we’re still in the Wild West days of moving away from fossil fuels, waiting to act is no longer an option even from a business perspective — let alone a climate one.
Toyota’s big battery announcement does signal that change is coming. A 900-mile battery? I’ve heard these kinds of pie-in-the-sky claims from sketchy startup companies my entire career. It is not the kind of thing I hear from Toyota, arguably the most powerful manufacturing apparatus on the planet and a company whose culture stresses under-promising and over-delivering. Even Toyota’s “It’s coming!” promises around hydrogen never got this specific. So when Toyota lays down the gauntlet, I’m inclined to believe it’ll either make good on its word or come pretty damn close.
Even so, by the time the Japanese automakers get their best and most “modern” EVs on the road — software updates, more automated driving assistance, cheaper costs, better range — competitors like Ford and Hyundai will be on round two or three of doing the same thing.
For now, the Japanese automakers are probably smart to keep at least some powder dry when it comes to hybrids and hydrogen, especially in those places on Earth that might not be best served by fully electric cars quite yet. But if they don’t get moving on the EV front, they won’t have a chance to find out.
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Recovering from the Los Angeles wildfires will be expensive. Really expensive. Insurance analysts and banks have already produced a wide range of estimates of both what insurance companies will pay out and overall economic loss. AccuWeatherhas put out an eye-catching preliminary figure of $52 billion to $57 billion for economic losses, with the service’s chief meteorologist saying that the fires have the potential to “become the worst wildfire in modern California history based on the number of structures burned and economic loss.” On Thursday, J.P. Morgan doubled its previous estimate for insured losses to $20 billion, with an economic loss figure of $50 billion — about the gross domestic product of the country of Jordan.
The startlingly high loss figures from a fire that has only lasted a few days and is (relatively) limited in scope show just how distinctly devastating an urban fire can be. Enormous wildfires thatcover millions of acres like the 2023 Canadian wildfires can spew ash and particulate matter all over the globe and burn for months, darkening skies and clogging airways in other countries. And smaller — and far deadlier fires — than those still do not produce the same financial roll.
It’s in coastal Southern California where you find large population centers areas known by all to be at extreme risk of fire. And so a fire there can destroy a whole neighborhood in a few hours and put the state’s insurance system into jeopardy.
One reason why the projected economic impacts of the fires are so high is that the structures that have burned and the land those structures sit on are very valuable. Pacific Palisades, Malibu, and Santa Monica contain some of the most sought-after real estate on planet earth, with typical home prices over $2 million. Pacific Palisades itself has median home values of around $3 million, according to JPMorgan Chase.
The AccuWeather estimates put the economic damage for the Los Angeles fires at several times previous large, urban fires — the Maui wildfire in 2023 was estimated to cause around $14 billion of economic loss, for example — while the figure would be about a third or a quarter of a large hurricane, which tend to strike areas with millions of people in them across several states.
“The fires have not been contained thus far and continue to spread, implying that estimates of potential economic and insured losses are likely to increase,” the JPMorgan analysts wrote Thursday.
That level of losses would make the fires costlier in economic terms than the 2018 Butte County Camp Fire, whose insured losses of $10 billion made it California’s costliest at the time. That fire was far larger than the Los Angeles fires, spreading over 150,000 acres compared to just over 17,000 acres for the Palisades Fire and over 10,000 acres for the Eaton Fire. It also led to more than 80 deaths in the town of Paradise.
So far, around 2,000 homes have been destroyed,according to the Los Angeles Times,a fraction of the more than 19,000 structures affected by the Camp Fire. The difference in estimated losses comes from the fact that homes in Pacific Palisades weigh in at more than six times those in rural Butte, according to JPMorgan.
While insured losses get the lion’s share of attention when it comes to the cost impacts of a natural disaster, the potential damages go far beyond the balance sheet of insurers.
For one, it’s likely that many affected homeowners did not even carry insurance, either because their insurers failed to renew their existing policies or the homeowners simply chose to go without due to the high cost of what insurance they could find. “A larger than usual portion of the losses caused by the wildfires will be uninsured,” according to Morningstar DBRS, which estimated total insured losses at more than $8 billion. Many homeowners carry insurance from California’s backup FAIR Plan, which may itself come under financial pressure, potentially leading to assessments from the state’s policyholders to bolster its ability to pay claims.
AccuWeather arrived at its economic impact figure by looking not just at losses from property damage but also wages that go unearned due to economic activity slowing down or halting in affected areas, infrastructure that needs to be repaired, supply chain issues, and transportation snarls. Even when homes and businesses aren’t destroyed, people may be unable to work due to evacuations; businesses may close due to the dispersal of their customers or inability of their suppliers to make deliveries. Smoke inhalation can lead to short-, medium-, and long-term health impacts that take a dent out of overall economic activity.
The high level of insured losses, meanwhile, could mean that insurers’ will see less surplus and could have to pay more for reinsurance, Nancy Watkins, an actuary and wildfire expert at Milliman, told me in an email. This may mean that they would have to shed yet more policies “in order to avoid deterioration in their financial strength ratings,” just as California has been trying to lure insurers back with reforms to its dysfunctional insurance market.
The economic costs of the fire will likely be felt for years if not decades. While it would take an act of God far stronger than a fire to keep people from building homes on the slopes of the Santa Monica Mountains or off the Pacific Coast, the city that rebuilds may be smaller, more heavily fortified, and more expensive than the one that existed at the end of last year. And that’s just before the next big fire.
Suburban streets, exploding pipes, and those Santa Ana winds, for starters.
A fire needs three things to burn: heat, fuel, and oxygen. The first is important: At some point this week, for a reason we have yet to discover and may never will, a piece of flammable material in Los Angeles County got hot enough to ignite. The last is essential: The resulting fires, which have now burned nearly 29,000 acres, are fanned by exceptionally powerful and dry Santa Ana winds.
But in the critical days ahead, it is that central ingredient that will preoccupy fire managers, emergency responders, and the public, who are watching their homes — wood-framed containers full of memories, primary documents, material wealth, sentimental heirlooms — transformed into raw fuel. “Grass is one fuel model; timber is another fuel model; brushes are another — there are dozens of fuel models,” Bobbie Scopa, a veteran firefighter and author of the memoir Both Sides of the Fire Line, told me. “But when a fire goes from the wildland into the urban interface, you’re now burning houses.”
This jump from chaparral shrubland into neighborhoods has frustrated firefighters’ efforts to gain an upper hand over the L.A. County fires. In the remote wilderness, firefighters can cut fire lines with axes, pulaskis, and shovels to contain the blaze. (A fire’s “containment” describes how much firefighters have encircled; 25% containment means a quarter of the fire perimeter is prevented from moving forward by manmade or natural fire breaks.)
Once a fire moves into an urban community and starts spreading house to house, however, as has already happened in Santa Monica, Pasadena, and other suburbs of Los Angeles, those strategies go out the window. A fire break starves a fire by introducing a gap in its fuel; it can be a cleared strip of vegetation, a river, or even a freeway. But you can’t just hack a fire break through a neighborhood. “Now you’re having to use big fire engines and spray lots of water,” Scopa said, compared to the wildlands where “we do a lot of firefighting without water.”
Water has already proven to be a significant issue in Los Angeles, where many hydrants near Palisades, the biggest of the five fires, had already gone dry by 3:00 a.m. Wednesday. “We’re fighting a wildfire with urban water systems, and that is really challenging,” Los Angeles Department of Water and Power CEO Janisse Quiñones explained in a news conference later that same day.
LADWP said it had filled its 114 water storage tanks before the fires started, but the city’s water supply was never intended to stop a 17,000-acre fire. The hydrants are “meant to put out a two-house fire, a one-house fire, or something like that,” Faith Kearns, a water and wildfire researcher at Arizona State University, told me. Additionally, homeowners sometimes leave their sprinklers on in the hopes that it will help protect their house, or try to fight fires with their own hoses. At a certain point, the system — just like the city personnel — becomes overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the unfolding disaster.
Making matters worse is the wind, which restricted some of the aerial support firefighters typically employ. As gusts slowed on Thursday, retardant and water drops were able to resume, helping firefighters in their efforts. (The Eaton Fire, while still technically 0% contained because there are no established fire lines, has “significantly stopped” growing, The New York Times reports). Still, firefighters don’t typically “paint” neighborhoods; the drops, which don’t put out fires entirely so much as suppress them enough that firefighters can fight them at close range, are a liability. Kearns, however, told me that “the winds were so high, they weren’t able to do the water drops that they normally do and that are an enormous part of all fire operations,” and that “certainly compounded the problems of the fire hydrants running dry.”
Firefighters’ priority isn’t saving structures, though. “Firefighters save lives first before they have to deal with fire,” Alexander Maranghides, a fire protection engineer at the National Institute of Standards and Technology and the author of an ongoing case study of the 2018 Camp fire in Paradise, California, told me. That can be an enormous and time-consuming task in a dense area like suburban Los Angeles, and counterintuitively lead to more areas burning down. Speaking specifically from his conclusions about the Camp fire, which was similarly a wildland-urban interface, or WUI fire, Maranghides added, “It is very, very challenging because as things deteriorate — you’re talking about downed power lines, smoke obstructing visibility, and you end up with burn-overs,” when a fire moves so quickly that it overtakes people or fire crews. “And now you have to go and rescue those civilians who are caught in those burn-overs.” Sometimes, that requires firefighters to do triage — and let blocks burn to save lives.
Perhaps most ominously, the problems don’t end once the fire is out. When a house burns down, it is often the case that its water pipes burst. (This also adds to the water shortage woes during the event.) But when firefighters are simultaneously pumping water out of other parts of the system, air can be sucked down into those open water pipes. And not just any air. “We’re not talking about forest smoke, which is bad; we’re talking about WUI smoke, which is bad plus,” Maranghides said, again referring to his research in Paradise. “It’s not just wood burning; it’s wood, plastics, heavy metals, computers, cars, batteries, everything. You don’t want to be breathing it, and you don’t want it going into your water system.”
Water infrastructure can be damaged in other ways, as well. Because fires are burning “so much hotter now,” Kearns told me, contamination can occur due to melting PVC piping, which releases benzene, a carcinogen. Watersheds and reservoirs are also in danger of extended contamination, particularly once rains finally do come and wash soot, silt, debris, and potentially toxic flame retardant into nearby streams.
But that’s a problem for the future. In the meantime, Los Angeles — and lots of it — continues to burn.
“I don’t care how many resources you have; when the fires are burning like they do when we have Santa Anas, there’s so little you can do,” Scopa said. “All you can do is try to protect the people and get the people out, and try to keep your firefighters safe.”
Plus 3 more outstanding questions about this ongoing emergency.
As Los Angeles continued to battle multiple big blazes ripping through some of the most beloved (and expensive) areas of the city on Thursday, a question lingered in the background: What caused the fires in the first place?
Though fires are less common in California during this time of the year, they aren’t unheard of. In early December 2017, power lines sparked the Thomas Fire near Ventura, California, which burned through to mid-January. At the time it was the largest fire in the state since at least the 1930s. Now it’s the ninth-largest. Although that fire was in a more rural area, it ignited for some of the same reasons we’re seeing fires this week.
Read on for everything we know so far about how the fires started.
Five major fires started during the Santa Ana wind event this week:
Officials have not made any statements about the cause of any of the fires yet.
On Thursday morning, Edward Nordskog, a retired fire investigator from the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department, told me it was unlikely they had even begun looking into the root of the biggest and most destructive of the fires in the Pacific Palisades. “They don't start an investigation until it's safe to go into the area where the fire started, and it just hasn't been safe until probably today,” he said.
It can take years to determine the cause of a fire. Investigators did not pinpoint the cause of the Thomas Fire until March 2019, more than two years after it started.
But Nordskog doesn’t think it will take very long this time. It’s easier to narrow down the possibilities for an urban fire because there are typically both witnesses and surveillance footage, he told me. He said the most common causes of wildfires in Los Angeles are power lines and those started by unhoused people. They can also be caused by sparks from vehicles or equipment.
At about 27,000 acres burned, these fires are unlikely to make the charts for the largest in California history. But because they are burning in urban, densely populated, and expensive areas, they could be some of the most devastating. With an estimated 2,000 structures damaged so far, the Eaton and Palisades fires are likely to make the list for most destructive wildfire events in the state.
And they will certainly be at the top for costliest. The Palisades Fire has already been declared a likely contender for the most expensive wildfire in U.S. history. It has destroyed more than 1,000 structures in some of the most expensive zip codes in the country. Between that and the Eaton Fire, Accuweather estimates the damages could reach $57 billion.
While we don’t know the root causes of the ignitions, several factors came together to create perfect fire conditions in Southern California this week.
First, there’s the Santa Ana winds, an annual phenomenon in Southern California, when very dry, high-pressure air gets trapped in the Great Basin and begins escaping westward through mountain passes to lower-pressure areas along the coast. Most of the time, the wind in Los Angeles blows eastward from the ocean, but during a Santa Ana event, it changes direction, picking up speed as it rushes toward the sea.
Jon Keeley, a research scientist with the US Geological Survey and an adjunct professor at the University of California, Los Angeles told me that Santa Ana winds typically blow at maybe 30 to 40 miles per hour, while the winds this week hit upwards of 60 to 70 miles per hour. “More severe than is normal, but not unique,” he said. “We had similar severe winds in 2017 with the Thomas Fire.”
Second, Southern California is currently in the midst of extreme drought. Winter is typically a rainier season, but Los Angeles has seen less than half an inch of rain since July. That means that all the shrubland vegetation in the area is bone-dry. Again, Keeley said, this was not usual, but not unique. Some years are drier than others.
These fires were also not a question of fuel management, Keeley told me. “The fuels are not really the issue in these big fires. It's the extreme winds,” he said. “You can do prescription burning in chaparral and have essentially no impact on Santa Ana wind-driven fires.” As far as he can tell, based on information from CalFire, the Eaton Fire started on an urban street.
While it’s likely that climate change played a role in amplifying the drought, it’s hard to say how big a factor it was. Patrick Brown, a climate scientist at the Breakthrough Institute and adjunct professor at Johns Hopkins University, published a long post on X outlining the factors contributing to the fires, including a chart of historic rainfall during the winter in Los Angeles that shows oscillations between very wet and very dry years over the past eight decades. But climate change is expected to make dry years drier in Los Angeles. “The LA area is about 3°C warmer than it would be in preindustrial conditions, which (all else being equal) works to dry fuels and makes fires more intense,” Brown wrote.