摘要：Over the past five years, a single word has defined China’s new energy vehicle (NEV) industry: speed. It has been more than a metr

By Shen Suming

Over the past five years, a single word has defined China’s new energy vehicle (NEV) industry: speed. It has been more than a metric — it became a faith. But now, the consequences of this blind worship of speed are starting to show, in crashes, recalls, and a growing crisis of public trust.

The sector has moved at internet pace, producing cars faster, pushing boundaries further, and flooding capital markets with promises of exponential growth. But what it gained in velocity, it lost in rigor — the kind traditionally demanded of industrial products.

From battery packs to chips, from assembly lines to stock valuations, speed became a creed. As an old Chinese saying goes, “in all martial arts, speed is the only invincibility.” This was the mantra. But when speed becomes the ultimate value, safety and trust are the first to be sacrificed.

In the past, 0–100 km/h in under 3 seconds was the domain of Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and other million-yuan supercars. Today, mid-tier family EVs priced around 200,000-yuan offer the same acceleration — without conditions, to any C1-licensed driver with no high-performance training.

This democratization of power has created a dangerous mismatch between capability and control. High torque delivered instantly through electric motors means that a single mistaken foot — hitting the accelerator instead of the brake — can lead to catastrophic loss of control.

In traditional gasoline vehicles, acceleration ramps up gradually. In EVs, it's immediate. The buffer is gone. And when accidents happen, they no longer just involve the driver — they disrupt entire ecosystems of pedestrians, cyclists, and mixed-traffic urban roads.

China’s regulatory system hasn’t kept up. A C1 license treats all cars the same, whether it's a compact sedan or a 2.3-second hyper-EV. There are no power-tier distinctions, no mandatory performance training. The result? A licensing framework designed for 1.6L engines now governs vehicles that rival racecars.

High performance without proper training is a recipe for disaster — not just for the driver, but for everyone sharing the road.

While “fast cars” pose one set of dangers, “fast manufacturing” is another ticking time bomb. Traditional automakers spent five to seven years developing a new vehicle. Today’s NEV startups? 18 months, sometimes less.

This isn’t due to miraculous engineering breakthroughs, but because critical steps — especially safety and durability testing — have been cut or compressed. These processes don’t show up in earnings reports, so they are the first to go.

For example, high-performance EVs require extensive thermal management tests, extreme condition trials, and brake system validations. These cannot realistically be completed within 18 months — yet mass production continues, often resulting in issues like overheating after just a few hard accelerations.

In the race for market dominance and capital, carmakers have adopted the tech industry playbook: ship fast, patch later. Unfinished software and unproven algorithms are being embedded into vehicles, with promises of updates via over-the-air (OTA) pushes.

The result? Consumers are unwittingly acting as beta testers, bearing the risk of unproven autonomous features in live traffic. True autonomous driving systems require millions of kilometers of real-world testing. But many NEVs on the road today are still in the trial-and-error phase, even as they're marketed as “smart” and “autonomous.”

“The cars being sold are not mature tech products — they are evolving prototypes,” Shen warns.

Chinese automakers' marketing materials often show drivers with hands off the wheel, smiling as the car steers itself. Terms like “full-scene intelligent driving” blur the line between assistance and autonomy, misleading users into over-trusting incomplete systems.

When accidents occur, carmakers are quick to invoke fine print: users failed to keep their hands on the wheel or misused the features. Legally, they’re covered. But ethically, they’ve shifted responsibility onto consumers by exploiting human laziness and blind faith in technology.

This isn’t just marketing overreach. It’s risk outsourcing.

What’s developing in China’s NEV sector is more than a technical problem — it’s a cultural crisis. All stakeholders — automakers, investors, media, and even consumers — are caught in a race where speed trumps everything.

No one wants to slow down and ensure that foundational issues like safety, reliability, and testing are addressed. As a result, the industry’s very credibility is being eroded — not just domestically, but also in the global market, where trust and compliance standards are stricter.

And who is paying a price? The answer is: everyone.

Speed in itself isn’t evil. But speed worship — valuing it above all else — is.

True industrial civilization rests on checks and balances. If carmakers are given the power of instant acceleration and rapid production, then they must also bear the corresponding responsibilities:

Otherwise, we are just shifting the cost of speed onto the shoulders of ordinary people.

Building fast cars isn’t the problem but building fast without caution is.

China’s NEV sector has dazzled the world with its innovation and ambition. But now, it must prove that it can also build trustworthy, safe, and mature products — not just fast ones. The true test of progress isn't how quickly a car accelerates, but how responsibly an industry matures.

来源：钛媒体