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The New York mayoral frontrunner has an opportunity to shift the left’s increasingly nonsensical position on a critical carbon-free energy source.

Tuesday, November 4, New Yorkers go to the polls to elect their new mayor. They face a three-way choice — Democratic candidate, state assemblyman, and suddenly prominent democratic socialist Zohran Mamdani; Republican candidate and battery foe Curtis Sliwa; and independent candidate and former governor Andrew Cuomo.
While Mamdani’s surprise win in June’s Democratic primary electrified New Yorkers of all political persuasions, this cycle has been a relatively sleepy one for climate issues. Neither of the two frontrunners, Mamdani and Cuomo, has been keen to draw much attention to himself on clean energy.
At a televised debate two weeks ago, however, things got interesting.
“New nuclear power plants can help bring down the rising cost of utilities in New York State, yes or no?” asked moderator Brian Lehrer. “Upstate? They’re already starting, yes,” answered Sliwa, referring to Governor Kathy Hochul’s landmark announcement in June that she was ordering the New York Power Authority, the state’s public power utility, to develop a gigawatt of new nuclear energy-generating capacity upstate. Couched in atomic-powered abundance, the plan distinguishes her from Democrats nationwide primarily because she has the largest state-owned utility at her disposal, whereas other governors, from both parties, merely intimate that private developers should really get started.
To the untrained ear, Mamdani’s answer at the debate was anodyne: “I think it’s something worth exploring.” Prompted by Cuomo about whether that constituted “a yes,” Mamdani confirmed, “yeah,” to which Cuomo evinced surprise and then a “yes” of his own. On the surface, all three candidates agreed.
But in affirming the role of new nuclear plant construction to meet the state’s energy needs, Mamdani put himself at odds with a number of environmental justice nonprofits that have become fixtures of the city’s progressive left — that is, his own political home base.
“We unequivocally oppose any new nuclear facilities in New York State.” So begins a letter signed by 153 environmental justice groups, issued following Hochul’s “Future Energy Economy Summit” last fall, where she first raised the prospect. The signatories include chapters of prominent activist Bill McKibben’s advocacy groups Third Act and 350.org, Bezos Earth Fund awardee WE ACT for Environmental Justice, Food and Water Watch, chapters of the Sierra Club, and solar industry boosters Vote Solar, among many others.
When the governor advanced her nuclear plan this year, environmental organizations responded with anger. NY Renews — a coalition of groups that successfully lobbied for the state’s landmark climate law, the Climate Leadership and Community Protection Act of 2019, which was signed by Governor Cuomo — issued a statement opposing “the expansion or further investment in nuclear energy production.” An op-ed from the New York City Environmental Justice Alliance and New York Lawyers for the Public Interest called Hochul’s proposal a “dangerous distraction” from building renewables. In a separate comment issued alongside these same groups, decades-old Brooklyn Latino community organization UPROSE urged the state to avoid the “expensive and unrealistic” path of nuclear development.
The political appeal of nuclear today is undeniable. Six in ten Americans want more nuclear energy, according to a recent Pew poll. Not only is it the energy source with the smallest divide in enthusiasm between the parties, including both clean and fossil-fueled sources, the most common reason respondents gave Pew for supporting nuclear was its decarbonization potential.
New York’s nuclear energy “provide[s] reliable, continuous, predictable, emissions-free supply and must remain online to maintain electric system reliability,” according to a recent filing from the New York Independent System Operator, which manages the state’s grid. Since it takes up less land and requires fewer transmission lines than purely renewable alternatives, it could mitigate a fiery political tension in New York and elsewhere. And it’s almost universally held up as essential by industrial labor unions, for the clean, firm power it produces, and for the high-paying careers it supports. “Nuclear energy, being the cleanest, zero-emission, and most efficient way to produce energy, should be a no-brainer,” Frank Morales, the president of New York’s Utility Workers Union of America Local 1-2, which represents thousands of ConEd utility workers in the city, told me by email.
And yet despite his statement during the debate, nuclear’s decarbonization bona fides, its strong bipartisan appeal, and its acclaim from labor unions, Mamdani — a democratic socialist champion of public power and the clean energy transition — still hasn’t endorsed the governor’s plan for public nuclear power development.
This tracks an ideological inconsistency within the environmental left that has become less tenable as the need for clean power has grown more urgent. “It’s a belief system that these nonprofit groups have wrapped themselves in, and one that they have not yet been motivated to seriously reexamine,” Charles Komanoff told me. He’s the director of the Carbon Tax Center and a decades-long stalwart of New York City progressive activist groups, spanning environmental and transportation causes, among others.
Komanoff has had to reexamine his own beliefs on nuclear. During the 1970s and ’80s he opposed nuclear power, primarily for its past operational inefficiencies. He spoke before a crowd of thousands at an antinuclear protest in Washington in 1979, after the Three Mile Island incident. The premature closure of New York’s Indian Point nuclear power plant in 2021, however, finally tipped him into public nuclear advocacy. The “true Indian Point disaster,” he wrote in an analysis earlier this year, is that “emissions are mounting, and in New York City and other downstate areas formerly supplied by Indian Point, electricity is getting costlier and less dependable.”
Ben Furnas, the former director of the Mayor’s Office of Climate and Sustainability under Bill de Blasio — himself an iconic New York City progressive — has experienced this inconsistency firsthand. (De Blasio also cut his teeth in the antinuclear movement, telling The New York Times in 2019 that he’d marched against Three Mile Island in his youth.) “A lot of the old guard antinuclear activism sits uncomfortably in a broader, clear-eyed climate coalition,” Furnas told me. Mamdani, however, appears to take a “more expansive view of what a decarbonizing energy system looks like,” he said.
As a member of New York’s State Assembly, Mamdani backed a campaign to cancel the repowering of an ancient, highly-polluting gas peaker plant in Astoria, Queens, squarely in his district, that was slated to retire. He also aligned himself with the effort by Public Power NY, a coalition between the Democratic Socialists of America and environmental groups, to “build public renewables.” Both maneuvers eventually paid off — in 2021 the state denied the repowering project’s permit, and the old power plant later closed down for good; and in 2023 Hochul signed into law a (heavily rewritten) version of the Build Public Renewables Act, turning activist goals into implementable policy for NYPA.
Two years later, NYPA has made remarkable progress building state capacity in renewables. Its development pipeline of wind, solar, and battery projects now amounts to about 7 gigawatts, though most of that is still in very early stages. But Public Power NY has spent that time dismissing the progress from the sidelines, charging Hochul with “refusing to lead on climate.” While it’s true that Hochul is far overdue on implementing parts of the 2019 climate law, a huge political challenge as energy affordability becomes a top concern, Public Power NY has responded by demanding that the governor ramp up NYPA’s renewables development to a staggering 15 gigawatts deployed by 2030. Mamdani spoke at a rally for that demand just a month into his mayoral campaign last November.
Neither energy nor public power, however, has been at the forefront of his campaign, especially in these closing months. Instead, Mamdani’s laudable message discipline has been trained on affordability in New York City: free childcare, free buses, city-owned grocery stores, and temporarily freezing the rents of the city’s nearly 1 million rent-stabilized apartments. He’s even taken a decidedly pro-abundance position on housing in interviews with the Abundance co-author Derek Thompson and on the Odd Lots podcast.
It would be reasonable to ask, Even if Mamdani had aggressively talked up nuclear, what would he be able to do about it as mayor? As it turns out, there are a few routes that a Mayor Mamdani could take to influence nuclear development.
First and foremost, for half a century, the “governmental customers” of New York City have been critical sources of revenue for NYPA. The city government, the Metropolitan Transit Authority, and the New York City Housing Authority, for example, remain NYPA’s largest customers, dating back to when the state acquired Indian Point Unit 3 from ConEd during the 1974 financial crisis. While the MTA is infamously not under the mayor’s purview, at least two of those major customers are — and their power contracts are set to expire at the end of 2027, during the next mayor’s term. That’s both a bargaining chip for the next mayor and a potential avenue for the city government to subsidize, at least in part, the cost of a new, NYPA-developed nuclear plant.
Second, de Blasio already set a precedent for applying the city’s progressive tax base to help shoulder the cost of statewide clean power initiatives. To help solve an imbalance in renewable energy deployment upstate and downstate, the state created the “Tier 4 Renewable” program in 2020, at the urging of the de Blasio administration, to subsidize transmission projects that would deliver renewable energy into New York City. The enormous cost of the program, however, fell on the backs of ratepayers statewide, in proportion to their electricity consumption.
Seeing the unevenness in a program that largely helps the city, the de Blasio administration struck a deal in 2021 with the state’s clean energy procurement agency, the New York State Energy Research and Development Authority, to purchase far more Tier 4 renewable energy certificates than would have otherwise been allocated to the city based on its electricity demands via its utility, NYPA. As a result, the rest of the state’s ratepayers would save, in the city’s calculation, a few billion dollars. It’s not hard to imagine a similar possibility for the next mayor to advance the state’s nuclear policy, especially when it’s being led by NYPA.
Finally, the city’s Local Law 97 — a comprehensive law passed in 2019 requiring large buildings to meet escalating greenhouse gas emission limits or else face fines — presents another opportunity. Mamdani has spoken during the campaign about the need for the city to procure heat pumps for landlords to install in compliance with the law. But landlords also have to decarbonize their utility electricity supply, which they can do by purchasing RECs. With the recent cancellation of one of two projects that would have supplied said RECs, the real estate industry will soon be hungry for more supply.
That’s where nuclear could come into city policy. The city council could amend Local Law 97 so that nuclear energy likewise delivered into the city — from either existing or solely new sources — could be used to comply, as well. That would put landlords in a position of subsidizing a new state nuclear project, just like the Tier 4 program put them in a position to subsidize new state transmission projects. That could be a way for a Mayor Mamdani to throw them a bone amid his attacks on unaffordable housing prices.
The mild nuclear support at the debate was encouraging, Komanoff, the longtime progressive activist, told me. But “it would’ve been huge-er if Mamdani had said something specific and favorable about Governor Hochul’s gigawatt announcement over the summer.” The governor, who in September endorsed Mamdani in the race, is presumably thinking the same thing, having made NYPA — the same public power authority behind the Build Public Renewables campaign that Mamdani championed — the centerpiece of her nuclear plan.
NYPA’s vice president of corporate communication, Lindsay Kryzak, told me by email that the authority has “seen widespread support for this critical technology,” and that it’s looking forward to “ensuring the benefits of advanced nuclear energy reach our customers in all five boroughs.”
Mamdani has been a staunch proponent of public clean energy in the legislature, and he’s apparently open to new nuclear for decarbonizing the state. That he hasn’t yet embraced this public power nuclear plan illustrates the strong gravitational pull of the environmental left coalition that surrounds him, one rooted in antinuclear politics.
Across progressive and democratic socialist media, multiple activists who’ve worked on the public power campaign have revealed their personal and professional ties to nonprofits like the Alliance for a Green Economy, New York Energy Democracy Alliance, and the Sane Energy Project, all of which have firmly rejected Hochul’s nuclear plans.
As for the Public Power NY coalition itself, it wants the state to build public renewables, not public nuclear. In a statement following the governor’s nuclear announcement, it argued that the plan “shows just how unserious she is about New Yorkers’ energy bills and climate future.” According to the organization’s website, 12 of the coalition’s 16 partner organizations, excluding DSA chapters, have publicly opposed new nuclear power since the governor kicked off discussions last year. Public Power NY did not respond to requests to comment on this story.
When the New York Independent System Operator, which manages the state’s grid, warns of the dire reliability-related need for “dispatchable emissions-free resources,” a technical term whose only existing commercial realization is nuclear, one would think building more nuclear power is actually the serious thing to do. That conviction isn’t just coming from the governor’s office; it’s shared by major industrial unions like the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, the UWUA, the Laborers’ International Union of North America, the state Building Trades Council, and the state AFL-CIO, as I reported this summer for Jacobin.
What does labor think of Mamdani’s recently expressed openness to nuclear? Vinny Albanese, executive director of the New York State Laborers’ Political Action Fund, says over email that his union, LIUNA, is “encouraged to see Assemblymember Zohran Mamdani express openness to nuclear energy, which currently provides half of New York’s carbon-free electricity.”
“With potential energy shortfalls projected to affect New York City as early as next year,” he wrote, “we must act decisively to bring more reliable, clean generation online.” The Laborers, like many unions, endorsed Cuomo in the primary, but haven’t endorsed anyone in the general election.
Morales, the UWUA Local 1-2 president, told me over email that Mamdani’s remark in favor of nuclear energy is “definitely a step in the right direction.” And yet Local 1-2 nonetheless endorsed Cuomo. That’s despite the fact that as governor, Cuomo was directly responsible for shutting down Indian Point, destroying hundreds of Local 1-2 members’ jobs.
Without the antinuclear baggage of his coalition, Mamdani could have pounced on Cuomo for having closed the plant — as Sliwa did at the debate and throughout his own campaign — in order to show solidarity with the union workers and to demonstrate a more responsible energy policy for New York City. In doing so he could have pinned the blame on his opponent for rising power prices and worsening air quality in his own district.
A 2023 public letter on South Bronx air pollution from various city environmental groups admits only obliquely, in the title of one of its charts, that Indian Point’s shutdown “expos[es] area residents to even more pollution.” Assemblyman Mamdani, like several other local elected officials, signed the letter, seemingly his only public engagement with Indian Point’s closure. But some of the nonprofit signatories actually championed the end of the plant, a situation that rules out a more explicitly recognized tradeoff between nuclear energy and air pollution.
If Mamdani wins the mayoral election, as polls indicate he is likely to do, he will take on the tremendous responsibility of governing a major world city. That city is one whose power grid is facing reliability concerns alongside costly maintenance and infrastructure needs, all on top of a popular push to electrify buildings and reduce air pollution. As mayor, he’d have limited levers to address these problems. But with the backing of the governor and the public power authority, he stands a chance. He should embrace Hochul’s public nuclear power plan, and with it nuclear’s potential to help advance New York City’s climate goals.
If he can buck the trend of the environmental left’s hostility to nuclear, he could demonstrate to New York City — and to democratic socialist supporters nationwide, who already view him as a likely successor to (notoriously antinuclear) Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders — that the left can think rationally about the energy system, its affordability, and the wide scope of the climate problem. That would truly be charting a new path.
Editor’s note: This author’s bio has been updated to clarify that he writes under a pen name.
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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.