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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 It’s also technologically outdated and probably due to be discontinued; it doesn’t fast-charge at the rate of many rivals.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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The Supreme Court keeps changing the terms of the deal between the legislative branch and the executive.
The Supreme Court ended its 2025–2026 term today, issuing a flurry of rulings on its most controversial cases. Most significantly, it rejected President Trump’s attempt to overturn birthright citizenship, preserving the 14th Amendment as it has been read for more than a century. It also struck down restrictions on how much political parties can spend in coordination with candidates — a change that could shape political strategies in November’s midterm election.
But I suspect that the year’s most important ruling for energy and climate policy came … yesterday. In a 6-3 ruling, the court’s conservative majority allowed President Trump to fire the commissioners of independent agencies without cause. Although the case concerned the Federal Trade Commission, it will matter for every independent agency that governs energy and climate policy.
My colleague Matthew Zeitlin wrote about what the case will mean for the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, for instance, and I urge you to read his story. As he writes, the agency that governs the country’s power markets, transmission grid, and natural gas infrastructure has a culture of bipartisan consensus, even comity, and the ruling could chill that warmer clime. Last year, a cross-partisan group of 11 former FERC officials warned that allowing the president to fire commissioners “would bulldoze the structural supports that Congress built into” the agency to protect its power “from abuse.”
But FERC is not the only commission that governs climate and energy policy. The Nuclear Regulatory Commission — which Trump has also sought to bring to heel — is led by independent commissioners. So too are the Securities and Exchange Commission and the Commodity Futures Trading Commission, which the Biden administration tried (and largely failed) to turn into climate policy-making agencies.
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The independent commission is an old American legal structure, invented in the 19th century to manage issues where Congress deemed technical expertise and a deliberative process were essential to producing good policy. Although some guardrails for these agencies remain intact — such as requirements that a certain number of their commissioners come from each party — the court has permanently changed how they work. For instance, instead of having to wait for commissioners at FERC or the FTC to retire, step down, or serve out their terms, the president can now fire any or all of them and remake an independent commission almost as soon as they take office — assuming, at least, a cooperative Senate that is willing to confirm new appointees.
While reading about the ruling, I’ve found myself thinking back to an article written last year by the Georgetown Law professor Josh Chafetz. It concerns a little-known (or at least new to me) 1983 Supreme Court case, INS v. Chadha, that reshaped the relationship between Congress and the executive branch. For decades, Congress passed laws granting new powers to the president (or a federal agency) while retaining the ability to nullify those powers with a “legislative veto,” whereby one or both houses of Congress could cancel a given action with a simple majority vote.
In Chadha, the court ruled that the legislative veto was unconstitutional, a decision that affected hundreds of statutes, according to Chafetz. But crucially, the court did not cancel Congress’ grants of authority in those statutes; it only removed Congress’ ability to veto the use of that authority by a vote. In doing so, it ratcheted up the executive branch’s powers and diminished the legislative’s — “thereby leaving in place only one side of a bargain between Congress and the presidency,” Chafetz writes.
Why does this matter? Because the court is doing something similar again. Congress struck a bargain with the president when it set up commissions like FERC and the NRC: It granted new powers to the executive branch, but also placed important restrictions on how those powers can be used. In allowing the president to fire commissioners, the Supreme Court has altered the deal, preserving Congress’ grant of authority while removing any real restrictions on the president’s ability to use that authority. In doing so, it has overhauled how those agencies work, essentially creating a new and more potent version of FERC, or the NRC, or the FTC that wears the staff and authorities of the old one as a skin suit.
No legislator would have chosen to set up FERC, or the NRC, or the FTC as they now exist. But after the Supreme Court’s partial demo job yesterday, they are the agencies we have. The court has overhauled how the United States regulates electricity markets, or antitrust law, or nuclear safety regulation. Let’s pray, I suppose, that the Supreme Court doesn’t alter the deal any further.
I promised I wouldn’t write about Europe’s air conditioning adoption today, and I have kept my vow. But my colleague Jeva Lange — who just returned from a 10-day trip on the continent with her husband, her 9-month-old daughter, and her 69-year-old father — has written about it, and in the most delightful way. What was Europe actually like, as an (ew) American? Find out.
I decided to go to Italy in June with my husband, my 9-month-old daughter, and my 69-year-old father. What could go wrong?
The start of a vacation really begins 10 days before departure, when your arrival date first appears on your weather app. Like the turning over of a tarot card, it is this initial forecast that hints at the potential character of your trip — whether your beach vacation might be ruined by rain, or if spring break will fall this year during an unanticipated cold spell.
For our recent trip to Bologna, Italy, my family and I seemed to have pulled one of the worst cards in the deck: Our weather apps suggested early on that the high would be near 100 degrees Fahrenheit on the weekend of our arrival.
Little did we know then, it would never cool down.
Coming on the heels of Europe’s second-hottest May on record, an extreme heat wave settled over the continent on June 18, 2026 — the first day of our trip — and lasted through Sunday, June 29 — the day we returned home. This would, on its face, seem to be a case of abysmal luck. But as someone who writes about extreme heat, it felt more like the moment I went from covering the story to living it myself, a jarring but not uncommon experience among my professional colleagues. As is often the case on the climate beat, it is only a matter of time before we become the subjects of our own stories.
To be sure, I’ve been hot in Europe before. Last year, I was also in Bologna during a heat wave, when the city set a record for the highest minimum temperature in June. At that time, I was pregnant and attending the Il Cinema Ritrovato film festival with my husband, a movie critic. Despite the wimpy European AC running in the theaters — and the nonexistent AC in many of the city’s best restaurants — we had such a good time that we pledged to make our attendance an annual family tradition. Next year, we decided then, we’d return with the baby.
Ah, the naïveté of parents to-be!
Our itinerary took us from Seattle to Paris for a one-night stopover before we would carry on to Bologna. On our arrival day, June 18, Paris hit 97 degrees Fahrenheit. Determined to try to see as much of the new-to-us city as we could, we stuck the baby in a backpack and raced from our air-conditioned room to another AC oasis, the Musée d’Orsay — a walk of about half an hour that took us along the sun-blasted east end of the Tuileries and over the exposed Pont Royal. By the time we reached the long line of wilting tourists waiting to enter the museum, our daughter had slumped, lethargic, in her carrier. Beside ourselves with panic, we pushed our way into the museum’s lightly air-conditioned ticketing office. I was calculating the fastest way to get medical help — yell for security and hope the museum had paramedics on hand? Dial the local emergency number? — when, after what felt like a terrifyingly long time, she opened her eyes and cried.
I’ve replayed that walk over and over in my head, wondering where we went wrong. Unfortunately, it is difficult to get good medical information about babies and heat. Infants’ warning signs are contradictory — sweat is a red flag, but so is not sweating; increased irritability should be watched for, but so should lethargy — and an individual’s acclimation and compounding conditions like hydration and airflow make it even harder to know when a temperature is safe, or isn’t. Did the sweltering ride into the city on an overcrowded RER mean our daughter was already under heat stress when we left again for our walk? Was it just jet lag compounding her lethargy? Was it the heat transfer from being in a carrier that was at fault, or all that direct sun on the Seine?
Whatever the cause, we arrived in Bologna on edge. In addition to our daughter, I was worried about the other most vulnerable member of our small party: my dad, a senior, who joined us a few days later. Having reported on the 2021 Pacific Northwest heat dome deaths and knowing the cardiac stressor of dehydration, especially on older adults, I was extra obnoxious about making sure everyone carried a water bottle and ensured that the apartment we rented (which I’d made extra sure came with air conditioning) stayed at an “American-style” temperature of “wrap yourself in a blanket indoors.” (I admit to having the weak American mind disease when it comes to using AC, although I was fascinated by the story a Belgian friend told about the social stigma against installing AC in his country because it’s perceived as making the conditions hotter for one’s neighbors.)
Still, meals out couldn’t be avoided, and while many restaurants seemed to have added air conditioning since our trip last year, Bologna is still an eat-on-the-street kind of city. Breakfast was tolerable; leaving for lunch and dinner, though, felt like having a tennis racket of heat swung directly at your face as soon as you stepped outside. The city’s famous porticoes, a “historical form of climactic refuge” designed to provide passive cooling in the form of shade and airflow, offered marginal relief. But even the clever medieval architecture couldn’t compete with the fossil fuel emissions-worsened heat; after the sun went down around 9 p.m., the heat would linger, radiating out of the masonry. The thermometer I hung from the stroller frequently read over 90 degrees Fahrenheit even as late as 11 p.m. To keep the baby cool, we tucked ice packs wrapped in burp cloths alongside her in the stroller, misted her with fans, and covered her legs in a Frogg Toggs evaporative cooling towel that we’d rewet in the city’s public water fountains.
During our 10 days in Italy, the daytime high never dropped below 95 degrees, and my dad and the baby spent almost their entire vacation indoors — either at the apartment or at the wonderful Biblioteca Salaborsa, a library and one of Bologna’s community cooling centers. It was from my colleague Robinson Meyer that I later learned more than half of Italian households now have air conditioning, although adoption has grown faster in the south than in the north, where we were. That’s a pattern that extends across Europe; about “28% of French homes and 13% of apartments have some kind of air conditioning,” Rob further writes.
But while excess mortality takes a long time to calculate accurately, France already reports that more than 1,300 people have died due to the heat since June 21, 2026. Most of the casualties are among people over the age of 65, as is usually the case during heat waves, but small children are also among the dead.
There isn’t a tidy ending to this story. We were hot, we lived, and we went home. I have almost no pictures of my child on her first international vacation because she spent practically all of it indoors, but that is hardly a tragedy. And — as I kept reminding myself when my intrusive thoughts and mom guilt became overwhelming — there are millions of parents raising millions of children in parts of the world that are very, very hot. What we accomplished, while inconvenient, was nothing extraordinary; in the coming years, it will probably become even more banal. (Indeed, it was about 10 degrees hotter in parts of France during this heat wave than anything we endured in Bologna.)
But let’s go back to that excess mortality number for just a moment. In 2022, a summer likely to be cooler than the six-day-old El Niño-fueled one now beginning in Europe, the World Health Organization calculated that more than 61,000 people died on the continent due to extreme heat stress. That’s 61,000 people with daughters and sons who also harangued them about remembering to drink water or stay out of the sun; 61,000 people who now won’t see their grandchildren start school, who won’t attend another family meal, who won’t take another vacation. While I spent 10 days worrying about how to keep the people I care about safe from extreme heat, it’s all but certain someone else — many someone elses — lost the ones they love in those same temperatures.
On the night before our departure for Paris, when our whole weather app had filled up with 97, 98, and 101 degree days stretching into the foreseeable future, my husband and I asked each other if we still wanted to go and be in that kind of heat. What a privilege it is, for now, to have been able to decide.
Republican Mike Braun loves data centers but hates electricity price increases.
Elected officials — especially in executive positions like governor, mayor, or, say, president — tend to support economic development writ large, looking to bring jobs to their constituents and expand the tax base. By that same token, they also tend to be quite sensitive to rising costs — especially utility bills, for which voters tend to hold state governments accountable, per Heatmap polling.
That puts governors — especially Republican governors, who are often more friendly to business and more likely to buy into arguments proffered by the White House about national security and economic competitiveness — in a tricky position as both the data center buildout and opposition to it gain momentum across the United States. No one embodies the dilemma more than Indiana’s Governor Mike Braun, who has positioned himself as a champion of data centers while also going on the rhetorical warpath against the utility AES Indiana and the Indiana Utility Regulatory Commission.
His latest barrage against Indiana’s electricity ratemaking process started in mid-June, when the utility commission approved a rate case from AES Indiana granting the utility a $71 million revenue increase across two phases, the first beginning in July, each of which will raise monthly bills by “less than $5 per month,” according to the company. AES had originally asked for a $190 million increase, but thanks in part to intervention from Indiana’s Office of Utility Consumer Counselor, a public advocate in utility rate hearings, it was eventually whittled down.
The utility commission handed down its decision on June 17. Later that same day, Braun issued a blast against AES and the IURC, saying in a statement that “my top priority is affordability, which is why I am deeply disappointed by the IURC’s approval of another AES rate increase. Hoosiers have spent years tightening their belts and making tough financial decisions. It’s time for utility companies to do the same.” The next day he was back with another fire-breathing statement: “Yesterday’s decision by the IURC to allow another rate increase by AES is unacceptable,” he said, and called for a rehearing of the rate case.
The regulator is in the midst of an “investigative inquiry on energy affordability” launched earlier this year that has required the state’s five large investor-owned utilities to make presentations on their ratemaking. “We’ve heard the concerns about the burden utility bills have on families and businesses across the state, and we are committed to evaluating short- and long-term solutions related to affordability,” then-Chair Andy Zay said in a news release in February announcing the investigation.
Braun, apparently, wasn’t convinced. By Monday, June 22, he’d removed Andy Zay as chairman of the IURC, and installed Commissioner Anthony Swinger to lead the regulator. “Affordability is my top priority,” he reiterated in a post on X, “and I am confident Chairman Swinger will deliver on that priority for Hoosiers.”
When asked about this past month’s events, AES Indiana said that it “respects the independence of the regulatory process and works constructively with all stakeholders. We remain focused on executing under the final approved order and delivering for our customers,” a spokesperson told me. Neither Braun’s office nor the IURC responded to my requests for comment.
The rhetoric was not particularly new for Braun. Last fall, for instance, he declared of utility rate hikes, “we can’t take it anymore,” and ordered the state’s utility consumer advocate “to evaluate utilities’ profits and find cost-saving measures to ease the financial burden on Hoosiers.” That said, his swift actions of late surprised some outside observers. “While Gov. Braun has made utility affordability a priority, the abrupt leadership change at the IURC is nonetheless surprising,” Jefferies analyst Julien Dumoulin-Smith wrote in a note to clients. “We perceive a cautionary tone for Indiana regulation; future orders will likely be more visibly defensible on affordability.”
Indiana sits at the transmission-rich crossroads between the Midwest and East Coast and has long been governed by business-friendly Republicans, and has thus become a locus of data center construction — and backlash. Twenty-one out of 92 counties in the state have enacted some sort of pause or ban on data center construction, according to Heatmap Pro data. Earlier this year, the Indianapolis City Council passed a resolution calling for a pause on approvals for data centers. When the White House earlier this year got large technology companies to commit to the Ratepayer Protection Pledge, in which they agreed to fund any additional grid costs incurred by their data centers, it was arguably following in the footsteps of Indiana, which negotiated a large load tariff last year meant to shield customers of Indiana Michigan Power, a subsidiary of AEP, from data center-related costs.
Braun’s position in Indiana also mirrors the ideological divide in Washington — Braun supports data center development while demanding that utilities figure out a way to spare ratepayers. Advocates to his left, both at the state and federal level, support a pause on all data center construction. André Carson, one of two Democrats representing Indiana in the House of Representatives, introduced a bill that would enact a nationwide data center moratorium alongside Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez and Bernie Sanders. (For what it’s worth, most Americans seem to prefer the leftward road.)
Indiana’s typical household electricity bills have indeed risen in the past couple of years, from about $113 per month two years ago to $120 per month as of May, while prices have risen 19%, according to Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub. Prices are up 12% in the past year, according to the Heatmap-MIT data, while the electricity prices nationwide have risen 6%.
Attributing rate hikes to data centers is a notoriously tricky exercise, however, and researchers have generally found that in most states, it’s hard to discern an exact connection. When pressed, Indiana utilities have claimed that higher prices are necessary to fund improvements for reliability or cold weather. Some critics of Indiana utilities, like Citizens Action Coalition Ben Inskeep, attribute years of rate hikes to coziness between the state legislature and utilities and the gradual weakening of regulators who could push back against hikes. Citizens Action has called for a moratorium on data centers in the state.
In spite of his harsh words against utilities, Braun has generally supported data centers as part of an overall economic development strategy, appearing at the groundbreaking for a $10 billion Meta data center project in Lebanon, Indiana, earlier this year. “In Indiana, it’s clear we’re a very easy state to do business in, but the communities are going to have to approve it,” he said on Fox Business earlier this month, setting himself up as a champion of local communities and ratepayers. “In Indiana, if you’re coming in, you’re paying for all of the construction and the generation of electricity, and you’re going to put more electrons onto the grid, taking prices down,” he said.
Braun’s consumer-and-conservation-minded critics have taken aim at this exact claim in pushing for a pause on development.
“We are one of the three or four Ground Zero states for data center development. We’re extremely attractive to data centers,” Kerwin Olson, executive director of Citizens Action Coalition, told me. “That happened at the same time as bills skyrocketing.”
Olson pointed out that Indiana’s data center boom has come at the tail end of a series of controversial economic developments, including a proposed hydrogen hub, carbon capture and storage projects, and a proposed water pipeline. “Here comes Amazon, here comes Meta, Google, and all hell just broke loose,” Olson said.
Referring to Braun, Olson said, “We don’t doubt his sincerity about his concern about affordability. We disagree with him on these solutions that need to happen.”