Freedom on the Road: What Mexican Cars Reveal About Innovation and Capitalism
Over the years, living in Southern California, I’ve noticed the steady presence of Mexican-registered cars on our roads. Many of these vehicles are compact Japanese models, practical and efficient, yet strangely absent from American showrooms. As an autistic person, I’ve always gravitated towards simpler cars—sensory overload makes driving an overwhelming experience, so I prefer vehicles without too many distractions. My own car, an ageing Honda Fit, fits the bill perfectly: small, reliable, and stripped of unnecessary bells and whistles. But when I see these Mexican cars, I can’t help but feel a twinge of envy. They seem to offer exactly what I value in a car: practicality and affordability, free from the excessive complexity that often defines the American market.
Recently, another trend has caught my attention. Affordable, feature-rich Chinese electric vehicles, such as the BYD Shark, are now making waves in Mexico. The Shark, a plug-in hybrid, has been compared to the Toyota Tacoma in size but surpasses it in features and trim, all whilst being far more affordable. Yet, despite the growing presence of these vehicles just across the border, they remain entirely unavailable for sale in the United States. This is a country that prides itself on being the “land of the free,” yet the reality tells a different story. How free are we, really, when it comes to choosing what we drive? If I wanted to replace my Honda Fit with a low-cost, efficient alternative, the options here are frustratingly limited.
This disconnect between what is available in Mexico (200 miles away from me) and what is sold in the U.S. raises deeper questions about the role of capitalism in shaping consumer choice. We’re told that free markets foster innovation and competition, but what I see instead is a system that stifles affordability and accessibility, favouring profit over practicality. These Mexican cars, and now the Chinese ones, represent a kind of freedom that seems increasingly out of reach for American consumers.
The Cars on Our Roads—And the Ones Missing
In Mexico, the availability of affordable, efficient Japanese cars from brands like Nissan, Toyota, and Mitsubishi paints a very different picture of consumer choice compared to the U.S. Market priorities and regulations here have all but erased these budget-friendly options, leaving Americans with few alternatives to increasingly expensive SUVs and trucks. Across the border, you’ll find cars like the Nissan March, a compact model with solid reliability and efficiency, or the Toyota Avanza, a no-frills family vehicle that prioritises practicality. Mitsubishi’s Mirage, an affordable and fuel-efficient option, is another popular choice in Mexico that has struggled to gain traction in the U.S. These cars are simple, affordable, and meet the everyday needs of drivers without unnecessary complication—qualities that are sorely lacking in the current American market.
The emergence of Chinese EVs in Mexico takes this disparity even further. A YouTube video comparing the BYD Shark—a plug-in hybrid pickup truck available in Mexico—to the Tesla Cybertruck and Rivian R1T reveals just how much consumers are missing out on in the U.S. The Shark, similar in size to a Toyota Tacoma, offers an impressive range of features and trim levels that would put many American trucks to shame. In its best trim, the Shark is priced under $50,000, or less than one million pesos—a fraction of the cost of the Rivian R1T, which starts at over $73,000, or the Tesla Cybertruck, projected to range between $50,000 and $70,000 depending on configuration (but often selling for a price well in excess of that). And whilst the Shark manages to balance affordability and utility, American EV trucks seem to cater exclusively to high-end buyers, leaving budget-conscious consumers with no realistic options.
The contrast between what’s available in Mexico and what’s offered in the U.S. raises an uncomfortable question: how free are we, really, when it comes to our choices as consumers? We’re constantly reminded that the U.S. is the “land of the free,” but our automotive market is anything but. Corporate priorities and trade policies have created a landscape where affordability and practicality are pushed aside in favour of premium pricing and high margins. Vehicles like the Shark represent a kind of freedom—freedom to choose a practical, affordable option—that American consumers are systematically denied. If freedom is about choice, then the U.S. seems to have lost its way.
Capitalism, Socialism, and the Innovation Myth
The common narrative that “socialism stifles innovation” falls apart when faced with the success of China’s auto industry, particularly its advancements in electric vehicles (EVs). China’s vertically integrated production model, coupled with robust state support and long-term planning, has enabled its automakers to deliver cutting-edge technology faster, and at prices far below their Western counterparts. Companies like BYD are a testament to this approach, controlling everything from battery production to final assembly, reducing costs, improving quality, and accelerating innovation. Critics in the West often point to the lack of returns from the Chinese stock market, ignoring the fundamental reality: China doesn’t prioritise stock market profits. Instead, company earnings are taxed heavily, and those funds are reinvested into the broader system to support companies and workers. This structure allows Chinese firms to innovate with less financial risk, fostering a culture of experimentation and progress.
In stark contrast, the U.S. auto industry’s short-term, profit-driven strategies have led to a focus on shareholder value over everything else. Automakers prioritise quarterly earnings to satisfy investors, often at the expense of vehicle quality, affordability, and longevity. Features like cylinder deactivation and continuously variable transmissions (CVTs) are introduced not for their reliability or performance but to meet regulatory demands and boost fuel economy numbers on paper. The result is a slew of vehicles plagued by reliability issues and premature failures, with many barely lasting beyond their 36,000-mile warranties. This short-term focus undermines consumer trust and leaves little room for meaningful innovation. Investments in research and development that could lead to transformative technologies are deprioritised in favour of immediate financial returns.
The freedom to innovate, ironically, thrives more in China’s system than in the U.S.’s profit-above-all capitalism. By removing the constant pressure to deliver instant returns, companies can take risks, explore potentially revolutionary ideas, and create products that are affordable, reliable, and genuinely innovative. This long-term mindset has allowed China to dominate industries like EVs and solar energy, sectors critical to addressing global challenges like climate change.
Capitalism’s obsession with quarterly profit growth not only stifles innovation but also undermines long-term goals like sustainability. The U.S. auto industry’s inability to produce affordable, high-quality EVs is a direct consequence of this fixation. If anything, the success of China’s state-supported model reveals that innovation flourishes not in the shadow of shareholder demands but in the freedom to think and plan beyond the next quarter.
The Cost of Capitalism’s Gaslighting
U.S. automakers and policymakers have perfected the art of gaslighting consumers, presenting their decisions as essential for “freedom” and “progress” while creating a system that prioritises corporate profits over consumer welfare. Take the Toyota Land Cruiser, a globally revered vehicle renowned for its rugged reliability and versatility. While the U.S. market briefly enjoyed the full-size luxury models, other versions—like the light-duty Prado or the J70 series—were never brought stateside. The J70, celebrated for its indestructible off-road capabilities and utility, remains a cornerstone in markets across Africa, the Middle East, and Australia. Similarly, the Prado, a smaller and more affordable variant, is a staple in countless countries for its practicality and toughness. These models would undoubtedly appeal to American drivers seeking reliability and functionality, yet they remain absent from the U.S. market.
The reason? It wasn’t that “freedom-loving” Americans chose to reject these options. Instead, protectionist policies—crafted by lawmakers acting in the interests of automakers rather than consumers—ensured these vehicles never saw U.S. showrooms. Voters had no real say in the matter. Through well-placed lobbying and campaign contributions, the auto industry influenced Congress to implement tariffs and regulations that favoured domestic manufacturers, effectively limiting competition from international models like the Prado and J70. It’s money well spent, as far as automakers are concerned, but it left American consumers with fewer choices and higher costs.
Instead of practical and affordable options, U.S. consumers were fed oversized, overpriced SUVs and trucks that automakers claimed were what the market demanded. This narrative conveniently ignores the significant demand for smaller, more reliable vehicles that the industry could easily meet if profits weren’t their only priority. The Land Cruiser’s global success, particularly with models like the Prado and J70, proves that such vehicles have enduring appeal—just not in a system designed to prioritise corporate margins over genuine consumer choice.
This isn’t about freedom or the free market; it’s about a rigged system that protects profits at the expense of consumers. Americans didn’t choose this; it was chosen for them by automakers and their representatives in Congress, ensuring that the vehicles most suited to their needs remain tantalisingly out of reach.
This gaslighting extends to the affordability crisis in the U.S. auto market, particularly with EVs and low-cost vehicles. As someone who values simplicity and practicality in cars, I’ve struggled to find a viable replacement for my ageing Honda Fit. Low-cost EVs, which could be an attractive option, are virtually nonexistent in the U.S., with most models priced far beyond what the average person can afford. Even traditional internal combustion engine (ICE) vehicles have become increasingly inaccessible. The “right to repair” issue further compounds the problem. Many modern cars are designed to block affordable fixes, requiring proprietary tools or software to perform even basic diagnostics. Some models won’t allow low-cost code readers unless they’re factory-approved. This shift prevents people from buying older cars, repairing them, and keeping them on the road at a reasonable cost—an option that was once a cornerstone of vehicle affordability.
The myth of the free market perpetuates this distorted landscape. U.S. automakers and policymakers claim to champion competition, yet protectionist policies, offshoring, and corporate lobbying have left consumers with fewer choices and higher costs. Trade barriers block affordable imports, like compact Japanese cars and Chinese EVs, that could revolutionise the market. Meanwhile, decades of offshoring have hollowed out domestic manufacturing, forcing automakers to rely on fragmented global supply chains that drive up costs. Lobbying efforts ensure that these systems remain in place, insulating corporations from competition while leaving consumers to pay the price.
The U.S. auto market’s fixation on profits masquerades as freedom, but the reality is a system designed to limit choice and maximise corporate gains. Consumers are left with overpriced, overcomplicated vehicles while affordable, practical alternatives remain just out of reach. It’s a sobering reminder that the “land of the free” doesn’t always extend its promises to the roads we drive on.
Real Freedom on the Road
In Mexico, the openness of the market allows for greater consumer choice and innovation, a stark contrast to the tightly controlled U.S. auto industry. Vehicles like the BYD Shark, a plug-in hybrid pickup with impressive features and affordability, exemplify this. The Shark, available for under $50,000 in its best trim, offers a level of accessibility and practicality that is sorely missing in the U.S. Despite its advantages, this vehicle—and others like it—remain unavailable north of the border. The difference lies in the willingness of the Mexican market to embrace partnerships with Chinese automakers. By doing so, they not only provide consumers with more choices but also foster innovation and create job opportunities. The U.S., however, avoids such partnerships, not because of national security concerns or consumer preferences, but to protect corporate profits. Partnering with Chinese companies would threaten the monopolistic grip of U.S. automakers, and that’s a risk they simply won’t take.
This reveals a profound irony in the so-called “land of the free.” In theory, a free market should allow consumers to benefit from competition and innovation. In practice, the U.S. auto industry operates as a cartel, protected by trade barriers, corporate consolidation, and profit-driven priorities. American automakers don’t have to innovate because they’ve stacked the deck in their favour. Consumers are left with no real options but to accept what is offered, even when it’s overpriced, unreliable, or misaligned with their needs. The result is a marketplace where freedom is a façade, and choice is dictated by what maximises corporate profits.
If the U.S. truly values freedom and innovation, it needs to fundamentally rethink its approach to the auto industry. Opening the market to global competition is an obvious first step. The U.S. auto market is so thoroughly rigged in favour of domestic automakers that dismantling these barriers would require significant legislative changes. Whilst challenging, it would introduce the kind of competition that forces companies to lower prices and improve quality (… and don’t get me started on neoliberalism & neocolonialism and why foreign automakers have plants in the US…).
Incentivising affordable EV production seems like another solution on the surface, but history shows this is often a smokescreen for corporate welfare. Domestic EV subsidies have done little to reduce consumer costs. In fact, leaked emails and audio recordings reveal that automakers raised retail prices by almost exactly the amount of the tax credits, turning these subsidies into a direct wealth transfer to corporations. Similarly, investing in domestic manufacturing and R&D might sound promising, but it has repeatedly funnelled public money to the same companies that have been feeding at the trough for decades without delivering meaningful improvements.
Ultimately, the problem isn’t just a lack of competition or policy failure—it’s capitalism itself. Why is it that in a socialist country like China, consumers enjoy a vast array of affordable, innovative vehicles, whilst in the capitalist “land of the free,” options are limited, cars are increasingly unreliable, and prices are sky-high? The answer lies in the system. In China, the priority is on long-term development, domestic growth, and consumer access, not maximising corporate profits. The U.S., by contrast, prioritises shareholder returns above all else, even if it means sacrificing consumer welfare, innovation, and the environment. If we truly want freedom on the road, it’s time to rethink not just the auto industry but the entire system that enables its dysfunction. Ending capitalism might sound radical, but the alternatives it has denied us are far more so.
Final thoughts …
True freedom, in a consumer context, should mean the ability to make choices that align with one’s needs and values—choices that are accessible, affordable, and meaningful. Yet, in the U.S., freedom is too often framed as the unencumbered ability of corporations to maximise their profits at the expense of the public. This warped version of freedom has created a marketplace where innovation and accessibility are stifled, leaving consumers with few options and little power to shape the systems that govern their lives.
When I reflect on the achievements of socialist countries like China and the Soviet Union from the 1950s to the 1980s, I am struck by the immense progress they made in elevating their people and economies despite relentless opposition. The U.S. worked tirelessly to sabotage these efforts through blockades, embargos, tariffs, and propaganda, yet these nations still managed to build infrastructure, advance technology, and improve quality of life for millions. Even today, Cuba continues to innovate under the weight of an economic war waged against it since its revolution. Their achievements in medicine, such as treatments for diabetic foot ulcers and potentially for erythromelalgia, highlight how much can be accomplished when human need takes precedence over corporate greed. And yet, I may never know the benefits of such breakthroughs because U.S. policy deems it illegal to trade with them.
The systemic barriers to change in the U.S. are daunting. Corporate influence permeates politics, distorting markets and locking consumers into cycles of limited choice and exploitation. But this doesn’t have to be the end of the story. The road ahead requires a shift in priorities—away from the short-term economic gains of a privileged few and toward long-term benefits for consumers, workers, and the planet. International socialist movements provide a vision for this change, demonstrating how prioritising the working class can lead to greater freedom and well-being for all. When workers’ interests are put above the unchecked ambitions of oligarchs, societies become more resilient, equitable, and innovative.
Achieving this shift won’t be easy, but it is possible. The fight for true freedom means challenging entrenched systems of power and reimagining how economies can serve people rather than exploit them. It means recognising that the well-being of the many must come before the profits of the few. Real freedom and innovation lie in collective action, where progress isn’t measured by stock prices but by the quality of life it brings to all.