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Why the Volkswagen ID.2all and other small EVs don't make it to the U.S. market
It has an estimated 280 miles of range. It’s got a ton of space for groceries, strollers, and outdoor gear. It boasts an interior that looks simple yet modern and high-tech. It should be remarkably easy to park on city streets. Best of all, when it goes into production in 2025, it should start at under 25,000 euros, or about $26,500.
There’s just one problem: It’s not coming to America.
The U.S. is missing out on arguably the most exciting electric vehicle debut so far this year. It isn’t a supercar or a high-end luxury SUV, but the Volkswagen ID.2all Concept, unveiled Wednesday at an event in Hamburg, Germany. While the ID.2all is just a concept car for now — a kind of exciting preview of where a car company wants to go, sometimes realistically and sometimes fantastically — VW is making clear that it will produce such an EV and this one looks very ready for public consumption.
It also represents something frustratingly elusive in America's nascent EV market: an affordable, modern, small car. A Volkswagen U.S. spokesperson has confirmed that there are no plans to bring the production version of the ID.2all stateside. That’s disappointing, but sadly understandable given Americans’ car-buying habits and the economics of EVs.
But there may be light at the end of the tunnel from other sources.
To date, the “affordable” EV remains a massive white space in America’s EV market.
In the 2010s, a number of so-called “compliance cars” fit that bill, mostly smaller hatchbacks and sedans fitted with batteries offering limited range to meet California’s emissions rules. As a concept, very few of those exist anymore, and few of them were that great to begin with.
In modern times, the average American new car costs around $46,000. If you want to break up with gasoline and go electric, expect to pay much more — the average American EV cost about $65,000 last year. Supply chain disruptions were one of the main culprits, but car prices and loan terms had also been rising for years.
Those average prices have gone down thanks to the Inflation Reduction Act’s tax rules, which offer credits of up to $7,500 if the EV is built in North America. Right now, only a few are.
Today, the best solution to this problem is probably the Chevrolet Bolt, which is a stunningly good deal thanks to discounts and tax incentives. It’s also technologically outdated and probably due to be discontinued; it doesn’t fast-charge at the rate of many rivals.
There’s also the Nissan Leaf, an early pioneer in this space that can be had in the mid-$20,000 range after tax breaks. But it, too, has a charging system that’s basically obsolete and is thus slated to die soon.
Finally, there’s the venerable Tesla Model 3. The latter is finally rather affordable thanks to Tesla’s price cuts and tax incentives, starting at $31,290 only if you include those deals and cuts. (You may recall that Elon Musk promised the Model 3 would cost $35,000 for years, but it really didn’t until recently.)
The point is, America is a long way from having a market of truly affordable new EVs, especially small ones. If you want the electric equivalent of, say, a Honda Civic or a Toyota Corolla, you’re largely out of luck. Instead, our recent EV market is largely made up of high-end luxury sedans or crossovers, replete with wildly high-tech features and capable of stunning zero to 60 mph times.
But widespread EV adoption will be key to reducing vehicle emissions and achieving climate change mitigation goals. So far, especially in the U.S., the cost of these cars has been a gigantic barrier to making that happen.
Any new technology is expensive, and supply chain disruptions have made things worse. Automakers are working to scale electric car production, ramp up the homegrown battery industry with help from the IRA’s tax incentives, and to spread more EVs across their lineups at different price points.
But smaller, more affordable, and even city-focused EVs aren’t especially on their radar screens yet.
There’s another problem here: In recent years, we as a nation have bought a lot of trucks, crossovers, and SUVs.
As larger vehicles got better fuel economy than their gas-sucking predecessors from the 1990s, Americans started moving away from smaller cars. Automakers responded in kind. Ford killed off most of its sedans and small cars (except the Mustang) in 2018. General Motors offers almost no small cars anymore and only one sedan, the aging Malibu. Mostly, it’s the Japanese and Korean automakers who bother to make these anymore.
Instead, we’ve shifted to buying bigger vehicles, which are still less efficient and worse for the environment than small cars. Take the new GMC Hummer EV, for example. It’s huge, with an enormous battery that takes a ton of resources to make and uses a lot of electricity to charge, even if it generates no tailpipe emissions. It also starts at $108,700.
It’s a little crazy we can buy an electric Hummer, but not an electric Volkswagen Golf, isn’t it?
Speaking of, there’s reportedly a good chance the production ID.2all could simply be called the next Golf. But the Golf isn’t even sold in America anymore thanks to its dwindling sales; only its more expensive enthusiast-friendly versions the GTI and Golf R are available here.
It also helps to remember that automakers can charge more for bigger cars, even when they don’t cost that much more to make than smaller ones. The car business runs on profit margins. Right now, these are even worse for EVs as the “legacy” automakers fight to match Tesla’s low building costs and high margins. They have to charge a lot for EVs, and produce bigger ones, if they want to make any money from them. (Ironically, it also means the EV revolution is largely being financed through combustion-engine Suburban and Expedition sales.)
Plus, if Volkswagen wanted to sell this car here, it’d have to be built at one of its North American factories in Tennessee or Mexico, or else it can’t take advantage of the new tax credits. That won’t make sense if it can’t be sold at high volumes, and our poor track record buying Golfs basically rules that out.
So if you’re wondering why the Volkswagen ID.2all won’t be your next EV, remember it’s a perfect storm of American preferences for big cars, the high cost of batteries, the need to make EVs profitable, and now, new rules around tax breaks impacting production decisions.
But not all hope is lost — maybe.
Remember that “affordable” and “small” aren’t necessarily the same thing, although Americans often think they are. The new Chevrolet Equinox EV crossover looks extremely promising; it should start around $30,000 before any tax breaks. But it’s bigger than a Bolt.
There’s also the upcoming Fiat 500e, which is coming back to America and should get about 150 miles of range — not bad at all for a city car. No word yet on if this Italian compact will be produced on this continent, which would dictate its tax break eligibility.
Tesla is also apparently working on an even cheaper EV to slot in below the Model 3, possibly to cost around $25,000. If anyone can pull that off, it’s Tesla, which remains ahead of the competition on its ability to build EVs at scale. But Elon Musk indicated in January that this cheaper EV is not a priority, so we’ll see.
Another EV startup, Fisker Automotive, has admitted that affordable EVs are a huge market opening. It aiming for a $29,900 starting price, again before incentives. But Fisker is still in the long, challenging process of rolling out its first EV crossover, so that’s years away if it happens at all.
Finally, China has a new crop of affordable EVs that's taking Europe by storm, but given Washington's tensions with Beijing, we’re quite unlikely to see them stateside anytime soon.
So if Americans want an affordable, practical, city-friendly EV instead of an expensive truck or SUV, what are we to do?
I don’t want to get everyone’s hopes up, but I’ve seen the power of demand work before — especially in the enthusiast world. Cars like the Nissan GT-R, the original Subaru WRX, the Toyota GR Corolla, and Audi RS6 Avant came to the U.S. after enough consumers demanded them. This can, and does, happen from time to time.
The question is whether it could happen for, say, the Volkswagen ID.2all. Maybe if enough Americans demand it, Volkswagen will answer with supply. But then we’d have to do our part and actually buy it.
If Americans really want cheaper, smaller EVs, eventually we’ll have to put our money where our mouths are.
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Current conditions: Bosnia’s capital of Sarajevo is blanketed in a layer of toxic smog • Temperatures in Perth, in Western Australia, could hit 106 degrees Fahrenheit this weekend • It is cloudy in Washington, D.C., where lawmakers are scrambling to prevent a government shutdown.
The weather has gotten so weird that the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration is holding internal talks about how to adjust its models to produce more accurate forecasts, the Financial Timesreported. Current models are based on temperature swings observed over one part of the Pacific Ocean that have for years correlated consistently with specific weather phenomena across the globe, but climate change seems to be disrupting that cause and effect pattern, making it harder to predict things like La Niña and El Niño. Many forecasters had expected La Niña to appear by now and help cool things down, but that has yet to happen. “It’s concerning when this region we’ve studied and written all these papers on is not related to all the impacts you’d see with [La Niña],” NOAA’s Michelle L’Heureux told the FT. “That’s when you start going ‘uh-oh’ there may be an issue here we need to resolve.”
There is quite a lot of news coming out of the Department of Energy as the year (and the Biden administration) comes to an end. A few recent updates:
Walmart, the world’s largest retailer, does not expect to meet its 2025 or 2030 emissions targets, and is putting the blame on policy, infrastructure, and technology limitations. The company previously pledged to cut its emissions by 35% by next year, and 65% by the end of the decade. Emissions in 2023 were up 4% year-over-year.
Walmart
“While we continue to work toward our aspirational target of zero operational emissions by 2040, progress will not be linear … and depends not only on our own initiatives but also on factors beyond our control,” Walmart’s statement said. “These factors include energy policy and infrastructure in Walmart markets around the world, availability of more cost-effective low-GWP refrigeration and HVAC solutions, and timely emergence of cost-effective technologies for low-carbon heavy tractor transportation (which does not appear likely until the 2030s).”
BlackRock yesterday said it is writing down the value of its Global Renewable Power Fund III following the failure of Northvolt and SolarZero, two companies the fund had invested in. Its net internal rate of return was -0.3% at the end of the third quarter, way down from 11.5% in the second quarter, according toBloomberg. Sectors like EV charging, transmission, and renewable energy generation and storage have been “particularly challenged,” executives said, and some other renewables companies in the portfolio have yet to get in the black, meaning their valuations may be “more subjective and sensitive to evolving dynamics in the industry.”
Flies may be more vulnerable to climate change than bees are, according to a new study published in the Journal of Melittology. The fly haters among us might shrug at the finding, but the researchers insist flies are essential pollinators that help bolster ecosystem biodiversity and agriculture. “It’s time we gave flies some more recognition for their role as pollinators,” said lead author Margarita López-Uribe, who is the Lorenzo Langstroth Early Career Associate Professor of Entomology at Penn State. The study found bees can tolerate higher temperatures than flies, so flies are at greater risk of decline as global temperatures rise. “In alpine and subarctic environments, flies are the primary pollinator,” López-Uribe said. “This study shows us that we have entire regions that could lose their primary pollinator as the climate warms, which could be catastrophic for those ecosystems.”
“No one goes to the movies because they want to be scolded.” –Heatmap’s Jeva Lange writes about the challenges facing climate cinema, and why 2024 might be the year the climate movie grew up.
Whether you agree probably depends on how you define “climate movie” to begin with.
Climate change is the greatest story of our time — but our time doesn’t seem to invent many great stories about climate change. Maybe it’s due to the enormity and urgency of the subject matter: Climate is “important,” and therefore conscripted to the humorless realms of journalism and documentary. Or maybe it’s because of a misunderstanding on the part of producers and storytellers, rooted in an outdated belief that climate change still needs to be explained to an audience, when in reality they don’t need convincing. Maybe there’s just not a great way to have a character mention climate change and not have it feel super cringe.
Whatever the reason, between 2016 and 2020, less than 3% of film and TV scripts used climate-related keywords during their runtime, according to an analysis by media researchers at the University of Southern California. (The situation isn’t as bad in literature, where cli-fi has been going strong since at least 2013.) At least on the surface, this on-screen avoidance of climate change continued in 2024. One of the biggest movies of the summer, Twisters, had an extreme weather angle sitting right there, but its director, Lee Isaac Chung, went out of his way to ensure the film didn’t have a climate change “message.”
I have a slightly different take on the situation, though — that 2024 was actuallyfull of climate movies, and, I’d argue, that they’re getting much closer to the kinds of stories a climate-concerned individual should want on screen.
That’s because for the most part, when movies and TV shows have tackled the topic of climate change in the past, it’s been with the sort of “simplistic anger-stoking and pathos-wringing” that The New Yorker’s Richard Brody identified in 2022’s Don’t Look Up, the Adam McKay satire that became the primary touchpoint for scripted climate stories. At least it was kind of funny: More overt climate stories like last year’s Foe, starring Saoirse Ronan and Paul Mescal, and Extrapolations, the Apple TV+ show in which Meryl Streep voices a whale, are so self-righteous as to be unwatchable (not to mention, no fun).
But what if we widened our lens and weren’t so prescriptive? Then maybe Furiosa, this spring’s Mad Max prequel, becomes a climate change movie. The film is set during a “near future” ecological collapse, and it certainly makes you think about water scarcity and our overreliance on a finite extracted resource — but it also makes you think about how badass the Octoboss’ kite is. The same goes for Dune: Part Two, which made over $82 million in its opening weekend and is also a recognizable environmental allegory featuring some cool worms. Even Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire, a flop that most people have already memory-holed, revisitedThe Day After Tomorrow’s question of, “What if New York City got really, really, really cold?”
Two 2024 animated films with climate themes could even compete against each other at the Academy Awards next year. Dreamworks Animation’s The Wild Robot, one of the centerpiece films at this fall’s inaugural Climate Film Festival, is set in a world where sea levels have risen to submerge the Golden Gate Bridge, and it impresses on its audience the importance of protecting the natural world. And in Gints Zilbalodis’ Flow, one of my favorite films of the year, a cat must band together with other animals to survive a flood.
Flow also raises the question of whether a project can unintentionally be a climate movie. Zilbalodis told me that making a point about environmental catastrophe wasn’t his intention — “I can’t really start with the message, I have to start with the character,” he said — and to him, the water is a visual metaphor in an allegory about overcoming your fears.
But watching the movie in a year when more than a thousand people worldwide have died in floods, and with images of inundated towns in North Carolina still fresh in mind, it’s actually climate change itself that makes one watch Flow as a movie about climate change. (I’m not the only one with this interpretation, either: Zilbalodis told me he’d been asked by one young audience member if the flood depicted in his film is “the future.”)
Perhaps this is how we should also consider Chung’s comments about Twisters. While nobody in the film says the words “climate change” or “global warming,” the characters note that storms are becoming exceptional — “we've never seen tornadoes like this before,” one says. Despite the director’s stated intention not to make the movie “about” climate change, it becomes a climate movie by virtue of what its audiences have experienced in their own lives.
Still, there’s that niggling question: Do movies like these, which approach climate themes slant-wise, really count? To help me decide, I turned to Sam Read, the executive director of the Sustainable Entertainment Alliance, an advocacy consortium that encourages environmental awareness both on set and on screen. He told me that to qualify something as a “climate” movie or TV show, some research groups look to see if climate change exists in the world of the story or whether the characters acknowledge it. Other groups consider climate in tiers, such as whether a project has a climate premise, theme, or simply a moment.
The Sustainable Entertainment Alliance, however, has no hard rules. “We want to make sure that we support creatives in integrating these stories in whatever way works for them,” Read told me.
Read also confirmed my belief that there seemed to be an uptick in movies this year that were “not about climate change but still deal with things that feel very climate-related, like resource extraction.” There was even more progress on this front in television, he pointed out: True Detective: Night Country wove in themes of environmentalism, pollution, mining, and Indigenous stewardship; the Max comedy Hacks featured an episode about climate change this season; and Industry involved a storyline about taking a clean energy company public, with some of the characters even attending COP. Even Doctor Odyssey, a cruise ship medical drama that airs on USA, worked climate change into its script, albeit in ridiculous ways. (Also worth mentioning: The Netflix dating show Love is Blind cast Taylor Krause, who works on decarbonizing heavy industry at RMI.)
We can certainly do more. As many critics before me have written, it’s still important to draw a connection between things like environmental catastrophes and the real-world human causes of global warming. But the difference between something being “a climate movie” and propaganda — however true its message, or however well-intentioned — is thin. Besides, no one goes to the movies because they want to be scolded; we want to be moved and distracted and entertained.
I’ve done my fair share of complaining over the past few years about how climate storytelling needs to grow up. But lately I’ve been coming around to the idea that it’s not the words “climate change” appearing in a script that we need to be so focused on. As 2024’s slate of films has proven to me — or, perhaps, as this year’s extreme weather events have thrown into relief — there are climate movies everywhere.
Keep ‘em coming.
They might not be worried now, but Democrats made the same mistake earlier this year.
Permitting reform is dead in the 118th Congress.
It died earlier this week, although you could be forgiven for missing it. On Tuesday, bipartisan talks among lawmakers fell apart over a bid to rewrite parts of the National Environmental Policy Act. The changes — pushed for by Representative Bruce Westerman, chairman of the House Natural Resources Committee — would have made it harder for outside groups to sue to block energy projects under NEPA, a 1970 law that governs the country’s process for environmental decisionmaking.
When those talks died, they also killed a separate deal over permitting struck earlier this year between Senator Joe Manchin of West Virginia and Senator John Barrasso of Wyoming. That deal, as I detailed last week, would have loosened some federal rules around oil and gas drilling in exchange for a new, quasi-mandatory scheme to build huge amounts of long-distance transmission.
Rest in peace, I suppose. Even if lawmakers could not agree on NEPA changes, I think Republicans made a mistake by not moving forward with the Manchin-Barrasso deal. (I still believe that the standalone deal could have passed the Senate and the House if put to a vote.) At this point, I do not think we will see another shot at bipartisan permitting reform until at least late 2026, when the federal highway law will need fresh funding.
But it is difficult to get too upset about this failure because larger mistakes have since compounded the initial one. On Wednesday, Republican Speaker Mike Johnson’s bipartisan deal to fund the government — which is, after all, a much more fundamental task of governance than rewriting some federal permitting laws — fell apart, seemingly because Donald Trump and Elon Musk decided they didn’t like it. If I can indulge in the subjunctive for a moment: That breakdown might have likely killed any potential permitting deal, too. So even in a world where lawmakers somehow did strike a deal earlier this week, it might already be dead. (As I write this, the House GOP has reportedly reached a new deal to fund the government through March, which has weakened or removed provisions governing pharmacy benefit managers and limiting American investments in China.)
The facile reading of this situation is that Republicans now hold the advantage. The Trump administration will soon be able to implement some of the fossil fuel provisions in the Manchin-Barrasso deal through the administrative state. Trump will likely expand onshore and offshore drilling, will lease the government’s best acreage to oil and gas companies, and will approve as many liquified natural gas export terminals as possible. His administration will do so, however, without the enhanced legal protection that the deal would have provided — and while those protections are not a must-have, especially with a friendly Supreme Court, their absence will still allow environmental groups to try to run down the clock on some of Trump’s more ambitious initiatives.
Republicans believe that they will be able to get parts of permitting reform done in a partisan reconciliation bill next year. These efforts seem quite likely to run aground, at least as long as something like the current rules governing reconciliation bills hold. I have heard some crazy proposals on this topic — what if skipping a permitting fight somehow became a revenue-raiser for the federal government? — but even they do not touch the deep structure of NEPA in the way a bipartisan compromise could. As Westerman toldPolitico’s Josh Siegel: “We need 60 votes in the Senate to get real permitting reform … People are just going to have to come to an agreement on what permitting reform is.” In any case, Manchin and the Democrats already tried to reform the permitting system via a partisan reconciliation bill and found it essentially impossible.
Even if reconciliation fails, Republicans say, they will still be in a better negotiating position next year than this year because the party will control a few more Senate votes. But will they? The GOP will just have come off a difficult fight over tax reform. Twelve or 24 months from now, demands on the country’s electricity grid are likely to be higher than they are today, and the risk of blackouts will be higher than before. The lack of a robust transmission network will hinder the ability to build a massive new AI infrastructure, as some of Trump’s tech industry backers hope. But 12 or 24 months from now, too, Democrats — furious at Trump — are not going to be in a dealmaking mood, and Republicans have relatively few ways to bring them to the table.
In any case, savvy Republicans should have realized that it is important to get supply-side economic reforms done as early in a president’s four-year term as possible. Such changes take time to filter through the system and turn into real projects and real economic activity; passing the law as early as possible means that the president’s party can enjoy them and campaign on them.
All of it starts to seem more and more familiar. When Manchin and Barrasso unveiled their compromise earlier this year, Democrats didn’t act quickly on it. They felt confident that the window for a deal wouldn’t close — and they looked forward to a potential trifecta, when they would be able to get even more done (and reject some of Manchin’s fossil fuel-friendly compromises).
Democrats, I think, wound up regretting the cavalier attitude that they brought to permitting reform before Trump’s win. But now the GOP is acting the same way: It is rejecting compromises, believing that it will be able to strike a better deal on permitting issues during its forthcoming trifecta. That was a mistake when Democrats did it. I think it will be a mistake for Republicans, too.