EVs vs Internal Combustion: Is This a Technological Transition or a Power Shift?
The global push from internal combustion engine (ICE) vehicles to electric vehicles (EVs) is often framed as a clean, inevitable technological upgrade—a rational response to climate change, urban pollution, and efficiency demands. Governments set deadlines, manufacturers retool factories, and consumers are encouraged to see EVs as the future of mobility. Yet beneath this surface narrative lies a deeper, more consequential question: is this transition merely about better technology, or does it represent a fundamental shift in economic, geopolitical, and industrial power?
A closer examination suggests that the EV revolution is not just a change in propulsion systems. It is a reordering of value chains, strategic dependencies, and industrial hierarchies—one that could redefine which nations and corporations hold power in the 21st century.
1. From Mechanical Mastery to Electro-Chemical Control
Internal combustion engines are mechanical systems refined over more than a century. Mastery of ICE technology requires deep expertise in metallurgy, precision machining, thermodynamics, and mechanical integration. Countries such as Germany, Japan, the United States, and Italy built entire industrial ecosystems around these competencies—machine tools, supplier networks, skilled labor, and engineering cultures.
EVs, by contrast, shift the technological center of gravity. The most critical components are no longer engines and transmissions, but batteries, power electronics, software, and materials science. The heart of the EV is the battery pack, which can account for 30–40% of the vehicle’s cost. This means the decisive know-how moves away from traditional automotive engineering toward electrochemistry, mineral processing, and digital control systems.
This shift matters because it lowers barriers in some areas while raising them sharply in others. A country without a century of engine expertise can, in theory, enter EV assembly relatively quickly. But a country without access to lithium, nickel, cobalt, rare earths, battery patents, or advanced semiconductor manufacturing faces a new kind of dependency—one that is often more concentrated and geopolitically sensitive than oil ever was.
2. Oil Geopolitics vs. Mineral Geopolitics
ICE dominance tied mobility to oil. This created familiar geopolitical patterns: oil-producing states gained leverage, shipping lanes became strategic chokepoints, and energy security defined foreign policy. The EV transition is often portrayed as liberation from this system. In reality, it replaces oil geopolitics with mineral geopolitics.
Lithium from South America and Australia, cobalt from Central Africa, nickel from Southeast Asia, graphite from China, and rare earths processed almost entirely in East Asia now form the backbone of EV supply chains. Unlike oil, which is globally traded with relatively diversified production, many EV-critical minerals are geographically concentrated and environmentally difficult to extract and refine.
This concentration creates new leverage points. Control over refining capacity, not just raw extraction, becomes decisive. A country may have lithium in the ground, but without chemical processing and cathode manufacturing, it captures little value. Thus, the EV transition risks entrenching a new hierarchy: resource-rich but industrially weak states at the bottom, and processing- and technology-dominant states at the top.
3. Industrial Winners and Losers
Technological transitions always create winners and losers, but the EV shift is unusually disruptive because it devalues legacy competence. Thousands of specialized ICE suppliers—fuel injection systems, exhaust components, engine blocks, transmissions—face obsolescence. Millions of skilled workers trained in mechanical systems may find their expertise undervalued.
At the same time, new winners emerge: battery manufacturers, software firms, power electronics specialists, and firms controlling charging infrastructure and data platforms. Notably, many of these winners are not traditional automotive companies. Tech firms, mining conglomerates, and energy utilities gain influence over what was once an automotive-dominated space.
This is not a neutral transition. States that anticipated the shift and invested early in batteries, materials science, and industrial policy are better positioned to dominate. Others risk becoming mere assemblers or importers of EVs, losing industrial sovereignty in the process.
4. Centralization vs. Decentralization of Power
ICE vehicles are mechanically complex but relatively decentralized in their value chains. Thousands of small and medium suppliers can coexist, and aftermarket ecosystems thrive. EVs, however, tend toward centralization. Battery production is capital-intensive, patents are tightly controlled, and software platforms reward scale.
Moreover, EVs are inherently digital machines. They generate data, rely on updates, and can be remotely monitored or even restricted. This raises profound questions about control. Who owns the software? Who controls charging standards? Who governs data flows? In extreme cases, mobility itself could be influenced by software permissions, grid access, or geopolitical sanctions.
Thus, EVs are not just vehicles; they are nodes in a larger energy–data–infrastructure system. Power shifts toward those who control grids, platforms, and standards—not just those who manufacture cars.
5. Climate Policy or Industrial Strategy?
Publicly, the EV push is justified primarily through climate goals. While emissions reduction is a legitimate concern, it would be naïve to ignore the industrial strategy dimension. Major powers are using climate policy to justify reshoring industries, subsidizing national champions, and excluding competitors through regulations and standards.
Subsidies, tariffs, local-content rules, and carbon border taxes increasingly shape the EV market. These tools determine which countries build batteries, which assemble vehicles, and which merely consume them. In this sense, EVs resemble earlier strategic technologies—steel, railways, semiconductors—where early dominance translated into long-term geopolitical influence.
6. The Risk of Technological Dependency
For developing regions, the EV transition presents both opportunity and risk. On one hand, it offers a chance to leapfrog legacy technologies. On the other, it risks locking countries into new forms of dependency—importing finished EVs while exporting raw minerals at low value.
If nations fail to build domestic capabilities in battery manufacturing, power electronics, charging infrastructure, and grid resilience, they may lose not only automotive industries but also energy sovereignty. Transportation, electricity, and digital systems become intertwined, amplifying vulnerability to external pressure.
7. So, Transition or Power Shift?
The honest answer is: both—but primarily a power shift disguised as a technological transition.
Yes, EVs offer efficiency gains and emissions reductions under certain conditions. But the scale, speed, and policy-driven nature of the shift indicate something more strategic. It is about who controls the next industrial platform of mobility; who owns the materials, patents, standards, and infrastructure; and who sets the rules of the new system.
History shows that dominant technologies shape global order. Steam power enabled empires. Oil-powered mobility shaped the 20th century. Electrified, software-defined transport may shape the 21st—but only for those who control its foundations.
Conclusion
The EV vs. ICE debate cannot be reduced to environment versus pollution, or old versus new. It is a contest over industrial relevance, strategic autonomy, and geopolitical leverage. Countries and regions that treat EVs purely as consumer products risk becoming dependent markets. Those that see them as strategic industrial systems—integrating mining, manufacturing, energy, and digital policy—stand to gain lasting power.
The real question, then, is not whether EVs will replace internal combustion engines. That outcome is increasingly likely. The deeper question is who will own the future of mobility—and who will merely rent it.
Leave a Reply