In 2021, Academician Ding Zhongli of the Chinese Academy of Sciences said the following in an interview.

Four years later, a new EU regulation has turned Ding’s remarks into what can only be described as a prophetic classic.

A few days ago, the European Commission released a proposal stating that while they had originally planned to completely ban the sale of all internal combustion engine vehicles (including hybrids) across Europe by 2035 to reduce carbon emissions, this plan is now facing headwinds and will be put on hold for now. Instead, automakers will not only be allowed to keep selling hybrid vehicles but also use various other methods to offset the carbon emissions from those hybrids—effectively giving hybrids a green light to sell like hotcakes.

The announcement immediately sparked public outrage.

On one side, legacy automakers like Volkswagen and BMW—companies that have spent decades perfecting internal combustion engines—breathed a huge sigh of relief: “Our ancestral craftsmanship is finally safe!” On the other side, EV-focused brands like Polestar and Volvo, which had already fully transitioned to electric, were left utterly devastated: “We’ve already completed our transformation—now you’re telling us it was all for nothing?”

Polestar CEO Thomas Ingenlath even lashed out directly: “Pausing the 2035 target is an absolutely terrible idea… Backing down now will harm not only the climate but also Europe’s competitiveness.”

His frustration is understandable. Back in 2021, when the EU first announced its ban on fuel-powered cars, European automakers’ core technologies were still heavily centered around building more efficient and cleaner internal combustion engines.

Suddenly being told that after more than a century of engine development, they couldn’t build them anymore—and would have to fully switch to EVs within just over a decade—was like announcing three months before the national college entrance exam (Gaokao) to a class of liberal arts students: “Forget the humanities subjects; you’ll now be tested on advanced physics and chemistry instead. Figure it out yourselves!”

Only someone completely detached from reality wouldn’t feel the pressure.

Interestingly, back in 2021, when the EU unveiled its “Fit for 55” climate package, member states and automakers were brimming with confidence.

Not only did they commit to banning the sale of all new fossil-fuel cars by 2035—achieving a 100% reduction in tailpipe CO? emissions—but they also pledged massive investments in charging infrastructure: a charging station every 60 kilometers and hydrogen refueling stations every 150 kilometers across the bloc.

Automakers responded with immediate enthusiasm. Renault CEO Luca de Meo boldly declared, “We will ensure the production of 1 million electric vehicles in Europe by 2030.” Volkswagen announced it had already allocated €73 billion to support EV technology development through 2025.

But by 2023, when the EU formally adopted the emissions reduction agreement, countries led by Germany, Italy, and Portugal suddenly changed their tune.

They openly opposed the 2035 ban, pushing to delay it by five years, and insisted that vehicles running on carbon-neutral synthetic fuels (e-fuels)—methanol or gasoline produced using carbon capture—should be exempt from the ban.

Why? Because the promised charging infrastructure remained largely unrealized (from 2021 to 2022, the 27 EU member states added only 150,000 new charging points, 88% of which were slow AC chargers), and European automakers were struggling badly in the world’s top EV markets—China, the U.S., and even their own backyard.


“If we really can’t sell ICE cars anymore, how will German automakers survive? What will happen to all the workers in these factories?”

The EU listened—and found Germany’s argument compelling. So they waved a hand and said: “Everyone else should keep pushing electrification, but if you want to pursue e-fuels, go ahead. We’ll grant an exemption by 2035.”

From that point on, European automakers accelerated their EV efforts. BMW, Mercedes-Benz, and Audi (the “BBA”) began rolling out numerous new BEV models. Savvier players like Volvo even partnered with Chinese EV startups to rebadge their vehicles and sell them back in Europe.

Even Ferrari, which had spent nearly a century perfecting internal combustion engines, started adding hybrid systems and developing its own pure-electric architecture.

It truly looked like a golden age of electrification.

Yet as they pushed forward, European automakers realized the tide was turning against them.

Charging infrastructure and sales figures remained stagnant, and worse—they couldn’t even produce core EV components domestically.

Take traction batteries, for example.

Once upon a time, Europe had a battery unicorn named Northvolt. Founded in 2016, it raised €12 million in its second year and secured a €52 million loan from the European Investment Bank in its third. Automakers like Volkswagen, BMW, and Volvo poured in orders totaling $55 billion.

Northvolt was hailed as “Europe’s answer to CATL,” meant to break Asia’s (CATL, LG, etc.) dominance in battery supply.

But by 2024, Northvolt filed for bankruptcy—with only $30 million in cash left and $5.84 billion in debt.

CATL chairman Zeng Yuqun once remarked about Northvolt: “If they try to scale up, they’ll run into utilization issues. Then reliability problems will follow. Two or three years later, safety issues will emerge. So basically, they made every mistake at once.”

Despite its lofty expectations, Northvolt was more like a chaotic amateur troupe. From frontline engineers to senior management and board members, almost no one had real battery experience. Many factory workers and machines were outsourced from China and Korea, and teams often couldn’t even communicate due to language barriers.

This led to catastrophically low yield rates, missed deliveries, and even a fatal dust explosion caused by poor safety management.

And Northvolt wasn’t alone. Ibeo in lidar, Volkswagen’s CAR.ID in in-car interaction, and Vitesco in electric motors—all followed similar trajectories. In the end, Europe failed to cultivate even a single qualified domestic supplier capable of supporting a full-scale transition away from ICE vehicles, let alone build a reliable EV supply chain.

The irony? After all this effort, Europeans looked up—and the sky had fallen.

“Wait… how did Chinese EVs end up dominating our own market? We need tariffs to protect ourselves!”

“What do you mean BYD became the best-selling brand despite tariffs?!”

Thus, the EU’s 2021 ban on fuel cars—once envisioned as a noble step toward global decarbonization, a catalyst for European automotive leadership in the EV era, and a way to replicate their ICE-era dominance—has devolved into a bleak reality dependent on foreign technology just to stay competitive.

There’s no “bright future ahead.” It simply doesn’t exist.

Seeing their goals slipping further out of reach, Europeans had a sudden realization: maybe…

…we should just change the goal itself!

So on Tuesday, at an EU Commission meeting, they unveiled the very proposal mentioned at the start.

Not only was the original 100% emissions reduction target relaxed to 90%, but automakers will now be allowed to keep selling hybrids beyond 2035. They also introduced a carbon-credit-like offset mechanism: if companies use EU-produced low-carbon steel or synthetic fuels, their remaining emissions can be neutralized.

Like so much of the West’s environmental rhetoric, this supposedly critical step toward 2050 carbon neutrality—the noble ban on internal combustion engines—has ultimately been defeated by harsh commercial realities.

And because of the EU’s reversal, non-European automakers like Ford have instantly pivoted too, abandoning their pure-EV plans.

The ban on fuel cars is now effectively dead in name only.

Recently, many online voices claim the West has given up on electrification and gone back to ICE vehicles, and wonder whether China was misled into over-investing in EVs. The truth is exactly the opposite.

As early as 2009, China launched the “Ten Cities, Thousand Vehicles” initiative, officially designating new energy vehicles (NEVs) as one of seven strategic emerging industries.

This wasn’t just about reducing reliance on imported oil—it was also a strategic move to leapfrog Western dominance in internal combustion engines and compete on equal footing.

Back then, Europe wasn’t even thinking about NEVs. They were still obsessing over thermal efficiency in gasoline engines and how to make diesel cleaner.

The irony? NEVs sit perfectly at the intersection of “automotive” and “environmentalism”—hitting precisely the sweet spot of Western political sensibilities. Lacking coherent industrial policy, complete supply chains, and burdened by excessive politicization, Western nations eagerly jumped into the race against China.

Now, after pouring vast time and capital into the effort, Chinese EVs are conquering global markets. It’s hard to say who really got played.

I’m genuinely curious what absurd moves Europe will make next—trying to be green while failing at EVs.

Here’s a suggestion: how about using a V8 engine as a range extender?

Written by: Fatal Blank Shot

Edited by: Mian Xian

Sources:

Ford delays new EV plant, cancels electric three-row SUV

EU abandons 2035 ICE ban, triggering global EV reset — Reuters

China’s EV dominance sparks EU retaliation — East Asia Forum

EU caves to automakers, allowing them to lose the EV race to China — Electrek

In 2021, Academician Ding Zhongli of the Chinese Academy of Sciences said the following in an interview.

Four years later, a new EU regulation has turned Ding’s remarks into what can only be described as a prophetic classic.

A few days ago, the European Commission released a proposal stating that while they had originally planned to completely ban the sale of all internal combustion engine vehicles (including hybrids) across Europe by 2035 to reduce carbon emissions, this plan is now facing headwinds and will be put on hold for now. Instead, automakers will not only be allowed to keep selling hybrid vehicles but also use various other methods to offset the carbon emissions from those hybrids—effectively giving hybrids a green light to sell like hotcakes.

The announcement immediately sparked public outrage.

On one side, legacy automakers like Volkswagen and BMW—companies that have spent decades perfecting internal combustion engines—breathed a huge sigh of relief: “Our ancestral craftsmanship is finally safe!” On the other side, EV-focused brands like Polestar and Volvo, which had already fully transitioned to electric, were left utterly devastated: “We’ve already completed our transformation—now you’re telling us it was all for nothing?”

Polestar CEO Thomas Ingenlath even lashed out directly: “Pausing the 2035 target is an absolutely terrible idea… Backing down now will harm not only the climate but also Europe’s competitiveness.”

His frustration is understandable. Back in 2021, when the EU first announced its ban on fuel-powered cars, European automakers’ core technologies were still heavily centered around building more efficient and cleaner internal combustion engines.

Suddenly being told that after more than a century of engine development, they couldn’t build them anymore—and would have to fully switch to EVs within just over a decade—was like announcing three months before the national college entrance exam (Gaokao) to a class of liberal arts students: “Forget the humanities subjects; you’ll now be tested on advanced physics and chemistry instead. Figure it out yourselves!”

Only someone completely detached from reality wouldn’t feel the pressure.

Interestingly, back in 2021, when the EU unveiled its “Fit for 55” climate package, member states and automakers were brimming with confidence.

Not only did they commit to banning the sale of all new fossil-fuel cars by 2035—achieving a 100% reduction in tailpipe CO? emissions—but they also pledged massive investments in charging infrastructure: a charging station every 60 kilometers and hydrogen refueling stations every 150 kilometers across the bloc.

Automakers responded with immediate enthusiasm. Renault CEO Luca de Meo boldly declared, “We will ensure the production of 1 million electric vehicles in Europe by 2030.” Volkswagen announced it had already allocated €73 billion to support EV technology development through 2025.

But by 2023, when the EU formally adopted the emissions reduction agreement, countries led by Germany, Italy, and Portugal suddenly changed their tune.

They openly opposed the 2035 ban, pushing to delay it by five years, and insisted that vehicles running on carbon-neutral synthetic fuels (e-fuels)—methanol or gasoline produced using carbon capture—should be exempt from the ban.

Why? Because the promised charging infrastructure remained largely unrealized (from 2021 to 2022, the 27 EU member states added only 150,000 new charging points, 88% of which were slow AC chargers), and European automakers were struggling badly in the world’s top EV markets—China, the U.S., and even their own backyard.


“If we really can’t sell ICE cars anymore, how will German automakers survive? What will happen to all the workers in these factories?”

The EU listened—and found Germany’s argument compelling. So they waved a hand and said: “Everyone else should keep pushing electrification, but if you want to pursue e-fuels, go ahead. We’ll grant an exemption by 2035.”

From that point on, European automakers accelerated their EV efforts. BMW, Mercedes-Benz, and Audi (the “BBA”) began rolling out numerous new BEV models. Savvier players like Volvo even partnered with Chinese EV startups to rebadge their vehicles and sell them back in Europe.

Even Ferrari, which had spent nearly a century perfecting internal combustion engines, started adding hybrid systems and developing its own pure-electric architecture.

It truly looked like a golden age of electrification.

Yet as they pushed forward, European automakers realized the tide was turning against them.

Charging infrastructure and sales figures remained stagnant, and worse—they couldn’t even produce core EV components domestically.

Take traction batteries, for example.

Once upon a time, Europe had a battery unicorn named Northvolt. Founded in 2016, it raised €12 million in its second year and secured a €52 million loan from the European Investment Bank in its third. Automakers like Volkswagen, BMW, and Volvo poured in orders totaling $55 billion.

Northvolt was hailed as “Europe’s answer to CATL,” meant to break Asia’s (CATL, LG, etc.) dominance in battery supply.

But by 2024, Northvolt filed for bankruptcy—with only $30 million in cash left and $5.84 billion in debt.

CATL chairman Zeng Yuqun once remarked about Northvolt: “If they try to scale up, they’ll run into utilization issues. Then reliability problems will follow. Two or three years later, safety issues will emerge. So basically, they made every mistake at once.”

Despite its lofty expectations, Northvolt was more like a chaotic amateur troupe. From frontline engineers to senior management and board members, almost no one had real battery experience. Many factory workers and machines were outsourced from China and Korea, and teams often couldn’t even communicate due to language barriers.

This led to catastrophically low yield rates, missed deliveries, and even a fatal dust explosion caused by poor safety management.

And Northvolt wasn’t alone. Ibeo in lidar, Volkswagen’s CAR.ID in in-car interaction, and Vitesco in electric motors—all followed similar trajectories. In the end, Europe failed to cultivate even a single qualified domestic supplier capable of supporting a full-scale transition away from ICE vehicles, let alone build a reliable EV supply chain.

The irony? After all this effort, Europeans looked up—and the sky had fallen.

“Wait… how did Chinese EVs end up dominating our own market? We need tariffs to protect ourselves!”

“What do you mean BYD became the best-selling brand despite tariffs?!”

Thus, the EU’s 2021 ban on fuel cars—once envisioned as a noble step toward global decarbonization, a catalyst for European automotive leadership in the EV era, and a way to replicate their ICE-era dominance—has devolved into a bleak reality dependent on foreign technology just to stay competitive.

There’s no “bright future ahead.” It simply doesn’t exist.

Seeing their goals slipping further out of reach, Europeans had a sudden realization: maybe…

…we should just change the goal itself!

So on Tuesday, at an EU Commission meeting, they unveiled the very proposal mentioned at the start.

Not only was the original 100% emissions reduction target relaxed to 90%, but automakers will now be allowed to keep selling hybrids beyond 2035. They also introduced a carbon-credit-like offset mechanism: if companies use EU-produced low-carbon steel or synthetic fuels, their remaining emissions can be neutralized.

Like so much of the West’s environmental rhetoric, this supposedly critical step toward 2050 carbon neutrality—the noble ban on internal combustion engines—has ultimately been defeated by harsh commercial realities.

And because of the EU’s reversal, non-European automakers like Ford have instantly pivoted too, abandoning their pure-EV plans.

The ban on fuel cars is now effectively dead in name only.

Recently, many online voices claim the West has given up on electrification and gone back to ICE vehicles, and wonder whether China was misled into over-investing in EVs. The truth is exactly the opposite.

As early as 2009, China launched the “Ten Cities, Thousand Vehicles” initiative, officially designating new energy vehicles (NEVs) as one of seven strategic emerging industries.

This wasn’t just about reducing reliance on imported oil—it was also a strategic move to leapfrog Western dominance in internal combustion engines and compete on equal footing.

Back then, Europe wasn’t even thinking about NEVs. They were still obsessing over thermal efficiency in gasoline engines and how to make diesel cleaner.

The irony? NEVs sit perfectly at the intersection of “automotive” and “environmentalism”—hitting precisely the sweet spot of Western political sensibilities. Lacking coherent industrial policy, complete supply chains, and burdened by excessive politicization, Western nations eagerly jumped into the race against China.

Now, after pouring vast time and capital into the effort, Chinese EVs are conquering global markets. It’s hard to say who really got played.

I’m genuinely curious what absurd moves Europe will make next—trying to be green while failing at EVs.

Here’s a suggestion: how about using a V8 engine as a range extender?

Written by: Fatal Blank Shot

Edited by: Mian Xian

Sources:

Ford delays new EV plant, cancels electric three-row SUV

EU abandons 2035 ICE ban, triggering global EV reset — Reuters

China’s EV dominance sparks EU retaliation — East Asia Forum

EU caves to automakers, allowing them to lose the EV race to China — Electrek