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The EV transition is facing a reality check. Can the planet afford it?
Once, it seemed like a major coup d’etat in the global war on carbon emissions: The United Kingdom, even under the conservative leadership of Prime Minister Boris Johnson at the time, announced in 2020 that it was 10 years away from banning the sale of new diesel and gasoline cars. In other words, any new cars sold in 2030 and beyond — and 1.6 million of them were purchased last year — would need to be zero-emission vehicles, likely electric cars but also some hydrogen cars as well.
Fast forward a bit to a year that’s seen more uneven EV adoption than many anticipated, a situation exacerbated by a shaky post-pandemic global economy. Now, the British government under Prime Minister Rishi Sunak hits reverse: Did we say 2030? Oh, we mean 2035 instead.
Sunak announced this week that the UK will, in his words, “ease the transition to electric vehicles,” allowing sales of new internal combustion cars until 2035. His decision is a disappointing one for climate reasons and, allegedly, even for some automakers hinging big hopes and potentially trillions of dollars on transitioning to EVs. (More on that later.) But the bigger question is, is this rollback just the start of a bigger trend?
Unfortunately, it probably is. Because what we’re finding with EVs is that saying you’re going to do something is a lot easier than actually doing it.
Sunak’s decision quickly outraged scientists and green groups, especially since it came during Climate Week, a time when leaders from all over the world (including Prince William) gathered in New York to discuss how to mitigate the greatest crisis of our lifetimes. It even angered some drivers in the U.K., according to The Guardian; people who were counting on a more robust used EV market and now worry about a slower rollout for public charging.
Transparently, I’m no expert on the U.K.’s climate politics. My own country gives me plenty of headaches on that front, thanks very much. But Sunak’s points aren’t entirely unreasonable here. He blames the high cost of EVs and fears an effectively all-electric new car market will put an undue financial burden on ordinary people already squeezed by inflation, high energy costs, and an uncertain economy. “We seem to have defaulted to an approach which will impose unacceptable costs on hard-pressed British families,” Sunak said in his speech this week. And he’s not wrong; as is the case in the U.S., EVs are still considerably more expensive than internal combustion cars, and Britain has its challenges with a woefully inadequate and unreliable charging infrastructure.
I’ll also give Sunak, who like Johnson is a conservative, some credit for actually admitting that climate change is an existential problem. “No one can watch the floods in Libya or the extreme heat in Europe this summer, and doubt that it is real and happening,” he said in his remarks this week, while touting Britain’s gains in reducing carbon and fighting pollution. That’s more than we get here in America, where our conservatives can barely admit that human-driven global warming is real — let alone say we need to do anything about it. (The bar is extraordinarily low over here!) Finally, Sunak is also not entirely off-course when he says the 2035 target aligns with what Germany, Canada, Sweden, and U.S. states like New York and California are planning too.
But that’s about as magnanimous as I’m willing to be here with Sunak’s arbitrary-seeming decision. It’s extremely unclear what Sunak expects to happen by giving this an extra five years, except further delay solving some of the very problems he describes here; after all, more EVs on the road and more EV production in Britain (thanks to increased demand) will lower prices the same as any consumer product, and push the charging infrastructure forward, too. Any improvements on those fronts just lost a sense of urgency that could’ve made them happen sooner.
Then there’s the domino effect problem. At worst, this move could provide ammunition for those governments — and car companies, and energy providers, and anyone else crucial to this transition — to slow-walk a move to zero-emission transportation.
If the U.K. can move its target date back, why wouldn’t Germany, which is also fretting about what this shift means for its ultra-important car industry? Why wouldn’t New York or California, which are struggling in similar ways with high costs of living, housing affordability, and the challenge of building out vast and reliable charging networks? (Yes, even California isn’t good enough there yet.)
And is five years “enough” to stave off intense EV competition from China? What does “enough” even mean in that context? Moving the targets, as Sunak has done, feels like a step away from what was once such an ambitious move for the United Kingdom — a country that, in spite of all of these challenges, is seeing fast and record EV growth this year; it could be as high as 23% of the market in 2024, about twice what America’s tracking for. It’s making progress on the electric front, so why kneecap that progress now?
Then there are the automakers themselves; the phrase “trust, but verify” always comes to mind when I hear about their commitments to going all-electric. Not all of them are setting firm dates to swear off internal combustion. But most, if not all, are making aggressive and enormous investments into EVs and battery plants; any delays or uneven regulations could throw a wrench into those plans, leading them to invest a ton of money into cars people may not want to buy.
Some of them even hit back at Sunak’s decision, including officials from Kia and Volkswagen; "Our business needs three things from the U.K. government: ambition, commitment, and consistency. A relaxation of 2030 would undermine all three," Ford U.K. Chair Lisa Brankin said. It could also be equally troublesome for the U.K.’s perpetually beleaguered auto industry. Just last week, Mini’s parent company BMW announced a major investment to make the brand fully electric and keep production British instead of Chinese — all by 2030, too. Mini’s future finally seemed secure after years of uncertainty between Brexit and the decline of small car sales; now it gets hit by a curve ball (or whatever soccer, cricket or rugby equivalent fits best) from its own government that will torpedo demand for all those new EVs for years to come.
At the same time, many automakers are hedging their bets here too, even if they won’t admit it openly. Ultimately, their duty is to shareholders, not the planet. In the U.S., Ford is dialing back some of its aggressive EV targets and focusing a little more on hybrid cars amid uneven electric adoption and production troubles this year. General Motors has committed to going all-electric eventually, but it’s also coming out with a new gasoline V8 to power its next generation of big trucks and SUVs, which drive basically all of its profits. (They’re not even hybrid engines.) And other automakers would rather rely on a network of parts suppliers, factories and dealers they’ve set up over a century to sell gas cars than make an electric pivot they won’t all survive.
In other words, give them an excuse — say, pushing back internal combustion bans — and they may not do it at all. I could easily see a reality where a car company like GM, which has committed to going all-electric by 2035, says it’s going to be 2040 now. And then 2045. And then, “Look at all these efficient gasoline cars we have now!” or “But have you seen the new Escalade? We’re throwing in the air filtration system as standard — massaging seats, too!” Like I said: trust, but verify.
In short, I fear the British government’s decision this week will lead other governments and their leaders to dial back some of their most aggressive climate commitments, even if they take this challenge more seriously than much of America does. It’s like a crack in a dam: It sometimes starts with just a few small ones right before the flood happens. After all, even the ultra-tough European Union left the door open to internal combustion sales past 2035, provided they run on deeply unproven “e-fuels.”
Sunak is right when he says this will be a difficult transition to zero-emission cars — which will almost certainly be EVs and not other types of vehicles in the near term. It’s hard and expensive. The automakers probably also hate it, deep down, because it’s hard and expensive. And no one should believe the world can “fix” climate change with EVs, especially when they’re $60,000 SUVs.
But moving to zero-emission cars is about laying the long-term groundwork for a world where automotive transportation creates vastly less pollution than it does now. For the United Kingdom, that goal just moved five more years down the road. Let’s hope it doesn’t move any further.
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It was a curious alliance from the start. On the one hand, Donald Trump, who made antipathy toward electric vehicles a core part of his meandering rants. On the other hand, Elon Musk, the man behind the world’s largest EV company, who nonetheless put all his weight, his millions of dollars, and the power of his social network behind the Trump campaign.
With Musk standing by his side on Election Day, Trump has once again secured the presidency. His reascendance sent shock waves through the automotive world, where companies that had been lurching toward electrification with varying levels of enthusiasm were left to wonder what happens now — and what benefits Tesla may reap from having hitched itself to the winning horse.
Certainly the federal government’s stated target of 50% of U.S. new car sales being electric by 2030 is toast, and many of the actions it took in pursuit of that goal are endangered. Although Trump has softened his rhetoric against EVs since becoming buddies with Musk, it’s hard to imagine a Trump administration with any kind of ambitious electrification goal.
During his first go-round as president, Trump attacked the state of California’s ability to set its own ambitious climate-focused rules for cars. No surprise there: Because of the size of the California car market, its regulations helped to drag the entire industry toward lower-emitting vehicles and, almost inevitably, EVs. If Trump changes course and doesn’t do the same thing this time, it’ll be because his new friend at Tesla supports those rules.
The biggest question hanging over electric vehicles, however, is the fate of the Biden administration’s signature achievements in climate and EV policy, particularly the Inflation Reduction Act’s $7,500 federal consumer tax credit for electric vehicles. A Trump administration looks poised to tear down whatever it can of its predecessor’s policy. Some analysts predict it’s unlikely the entire IRA will disappear, but concede Trump would try to kill off the incentives for electric vehicles however he can.
There’s no sugar-coating it: Without the federal incentives, the state of EVs looks somewhat bleak. Knocking $7,500 off the starting price is essential to negate the cost of manufacturing expensive lithium-ion batteries and making EVs cost-competitive with ordinary combustion cars. Consider a crucial model like the new Chevy Equinox EV: Counting the federal incentive, the most basic $35,000 model could come in under the starting price of a gasoline crossover like the Toyota RAV4. Without that benefit, buyers who want to go electric will have to pay a premium to do so — the thing that’s been holding back mass electrification all along.
Musk, during his honeymoon with Trump, boasted that Tesla doesn’t need the tax credits, as if daring the president-elect to kill off the incentives. On the one hand, this is obviously false. Visit Tesla’s website and you’ll see the simplest Model 3 listed for $29,990, but this is a mirage. Take away the $7,500 in incentives and $5,000 in claimed savings versus buying gasoline, and the car actually starts at about $43,000, much further out of reach for non-wealthy buyers.
What Musk really means is that his company doesn’t need the incentives nearly as bad as other automakers do. Ford is hemorrhaging billions of dollars as it struggles to make EVs profitably. GM’s big plan to go entirely electric depended heavily on federal support. As InsideEVsnotes, the likely outcome of a Trump offensive against EVs is that the legacy car brands, faced with an unpredictable electrification roadmap as America oscillates between presidents, scale back their plans and lean back into the easy profitably of big, gas-guzzling SUVs and trucks. Such an about-face could hand Tesla the kind of EV market dominance it enjoyed four or five years ago when it sold around 75% of all electric vehicles in America.
That’s tough news for the climate-conscious Americans who want an electric vehicle built by someone not named Elon Musk. Hundreds of thousands of people, myself included, bought a Tesla during the past five or six years because it was the most practical EV for their lifestyle, only to see the company’s figurehead shift his public persona from goofy troll to Trump acolyte. It’s not uncommon now, as Democrats distance themselves from Tesla, to see Model 3s adorned with bumper stickers like the “Anti-Elon Tesla Club,” as one on a car I followed last month proclaimed. Musk’s newest vehicle, the Cybertruck, is a rolling embodiment of the man’s brand, a vehicle purpose-built to repel anyone not part of his cult of personality.
In a world where this version of Tesla retakes control of the electric car market, it becomes harder to ditch gasoline without indirectly supporting Donald Trump, by either buying a Tesla or topping off at its Superchargers. Blue voters will have some options outside of Tesla — the industry has come too far to simply evaporate because of one election. But it’s also easy to see dispirited progressives throwing up their hands and buying another carbon-spewing Subaru.
Republicans are taking over some of the most powerful institutions for crafting climate policy on Earth.
When Republicans flipped the Senate, they took the keys to three critical energy and climate-focused committees.
These are among the most powerful institutions for crafting climate policy on Earth. The Senate plays the role of gatekeeper for important legislation, as it requires a supermajority to overcome the filibuster. Hence, it’s both where many promising climate bills from the House go to die, as well as where key administrators such as the heads of the Department of Energy and the Environmental Protection Agency are vetted and confirmed.
We’ll have to wait a bit for the Senate’s new committee chairs to be officially confirmed. But Jeff Navin, co-founder at the climate change-focused government affairs firm Boundary Stone Partners, told me that since selections are usually based on seniority, in many cases it’s already clear which Republicans are poised to lead under Trump and which Democrats will assume second-in-command (known as the ranking member). Here’s what we know so far.
This committee has been famously led by Joe Manchin, the former Democrat, now Independent senator from West Virginia, who will retire at the end of this legislative session. Energy and Natural Resources has a history of bipartisan collaboration and was integral in developing many of the key provisions in the Inflation Reduction Act — and could thus play a key role in dismantling them. Overall, the committee oversees the DOE, the Department of the Interior, the U.S. Forest Service, and the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, so it’s no small deal that its next chairman will likely be Mike Lee, the ultra-conservative Republican from Utah. That’s assuming that the committee's current ranking member, John Barrasso of Wyoming, wins his bid for Republican Senate whip, which seems very likely.
Lee opposes federal ownership of public lands, setting himself up to butt heads with Martin Heinrich, the Democrat from New Mexico and likely the committee’s next ranking member. Lee has also said that solving climate change is simply a matter of having more babies, as “problems of human imagination are not solved by more laws, they’re solved by more humans.” As Navin told me, “We've had this kind of safe space where so-called quiet climate policy could get done in the margins. And it’s not clear that that's going to continue to exist with the new leadership.”
This committee is currently chaired by Democrat Tom Carper of Delaware, who is retiring after this term. Poised to take over is the Republican’s current ranking member, Shelley Moore Capito of West Virginia. She’s been a strong advocate for continued reliance on coal and natural gas power plants, while also carving out areas of bipartisan consensus on issues such as nuclear energy, carbon capture, and infrastructure projects during her tenure on the committee. The job of the Environment and Public Works committee is in the name: It oversees the EPA, writes key pieces of environmental legislation such as the Clean Air Act and Clean Water Act, and supervises public infrastructure projects such as highways, bridges, and dams.
Navin told me that many believe the new Democratic ranking member will be Sheldon Whitehouse of Rhode Island, although to do so, he would have to step down from his perch at the Senate Budget Committee, where he is currently chair. A tireless advocate of the climate cause, Whitehouse has worked on the Environment and Public Works committee for over 15 years, and lately seems to have had a relatively productive working relationship with Capito.
This subcommittee falls under the broader Senate Appropriations Committee and is responsible for allocating funding for the DOE, various water development projects, and various other agencies such as the Nuclear Regulatory Commission.
California’s Dianne Feinstein used to chair this subcommittee until her death last year, when Democrat Patty Murray of Washington took over. Navin told me that the subcommittee’s next leader will depend on how the game of “musical chairs” in the larger Appropriations Committee shakes out. Depending on their subcommittee preferences, the chair could end up being John Kennedy of Louisiana, outgoing Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, or Lisa Murkowski of Alaska. It’s likewise hard to say who the top Democrat will be.
Inside a wild race sparked by a solar farm in Knox County, Ohio.
The most important climate election you’ve never heard of? Your local county commissioner.
County commissioners are usually the most powerful governing individuals in a county government. As officials closer to community-level planning than, say a sitting senator, commissioners wind up on the frontlines of grassroots opposition to renewables. And increasingly, property owners that may be personally impacted by solar or wind farms in their backyards are gunning for county commissioner positions on explicitly anti-development platforms.
Take the case of newly-elected Ohio county commissioner – and Christian social media lifestyle influencer – Drenda Keesee.
In March, Keesee beat fellow Republican Thom Collier in a primary to become a GOP nominee for a commissioner seat in Knox County, Ohio. Knox, a ruby red area with very few Democratic voters, is one of the hottest battlegrounds in the war over solar energy on prime farmland and one of the riskiest counties in the country for developers, according to Heatmap Pro’s database. But Collier had expressed openness to allowing new solar to be built on a case-by-case basis, while Keesee ran on a platform focused almost exclusively on blocking solar development. Collier ultimately placed third in the primary, behind Keesee and another anti-solar candidate placing second.
Fighting solar is a personal issue for Keesee (pronounced keh-see, like “messy”). She has aggressively fought Frasier Solar – a 120 megawatt solar project in the country proposed by Open Road Renewables – getting involved in organizing against the project and regularly attending state regulator hearings. Filings she submitted to the Ohio Power Siting Board state she owns a property at least somewhat adjacent to the proposed solar farm. Based on the sheer volume of those filings this is clearly her passion project – alongside preaching and comparing gay people to Hitler.
Yesterday I spoke to Collier who told me the Frasier Solar project motivated Keesee’s candidacy. He remembered first encountering her at a community meeting – “she verbally accosted me” – and that she “decided she’d run against me because [the solar farm] was going to be next to her house.” In his view, he lost the race because excitement and money combined to produce high anti-solar turnout in a kind of local government primary that ordinarily has low campaign spending and is quite quiet. Some of that funding and activity has been well documented.
“She did it right: tons of ground troops, people from her church, people she’s close with went door-to-door, and they put out lots of propaganda. She got them stirred up that we were going to take all the farmland and turn it into solar,” he said.
Collier’s takeaway from the race was that local commissioner races are particularly vulnerable to the sorts of disinformation, campaign spending and political attacks we’re used to seeing more often in races for higher offices at the state and federal level.
“Unfortunately it has become this,” he bemoaned, “fueled by people who have little to no knowledge of what we do or how we do it. If you stir up enough stuff and you cry out loud enough and put up enough misinformation, people will start to believe it.”
Races like these are happening elsewhere in Ohio and in other states like Georgia, where opposition to a battery plant mobilized Republican primaries. As the climate world digests the federal election results and tries to work backwards from there, perhaps at least some attention will refocus on local campaigns like these.