Tesla vs Ruiz-Mateos: 2,840 days of a bankruptcy that never comes

Tesla vs Ruiz-Mateos: eight years of a bankruptcy that never comes

Can you claim for nearly a decade that a company is bankrupt while it sells more and earns more each year? The comparison between Elon Musk and José María Ruiz-Mateos —founder of RUMASA and Nueva Rumasa, now deceased— began in January 2017, with Tesla trading at $22. Almost 2,840 days later, and with more than 1,200 interventions accumulated in that monitoring, the verdict remains split: some see the manufacturer as a speculative scam sustained by narrative, while others point to it as proof that the market was completely wrong about its founder.

What Tesla was in 2017 and what was predicted for it

When the monitoring began, the company founded in 2003 had just weathered the 2008 crisis without going bankrupt, something General Motors and Chrysler could not say, as they were bailed out with public money. There was no shortage of those who predicted the company would not survive the next year. The thesis was simple: Tesla was burning cash, its debt was growing, and its valuation bore no relation to modest sales.

The argument had substance then and still does when examined closely. But the clock worked against the forecast. In 2019, with the stock around $350, the company was stringing together quarters with profits and delivery records, and predictions of its demise kept being pushed back year after year without ever coming true.

The China Gigafactory: from mudflat to 1,000 cars per week

Few things have been used as much against Tesla as the Shanghai site. The perimeter of the Chinese plant, 864,885 square meters, became ammunition for skeptics: it was a mudflat, they said, and would take years to produce. Ten months after buying the land, cars were already rolling out. By the end of 2019, with construction still recent, the factory was credited with producing 1,000 units per week, always according to unconfirmed reports.

The same script was repeated with Germany. First there was debate over whether the factory would exist; then, where. Early versions mentioned Emden or Emsland, in the northwest of the country, with a planned capacity of up to 500,000 cars per year. The plant ended up being the optimists' argument and, for critics, proof that Musk announced more than he built.

Profits and sales: the data that dismantles the disaster thesis

This is where the comparison breaks down somewhere. Tesla closed 2022 with the best profit year in its history, above $10 billion according to the most cited calculations, and more than 1.2 million vehicles sold. Anyone who invested 1,000 euros in January 2017, with the stock at $22, had more than 9,000 euros years later: a x21 that dismantles any story of stock market eviction.

The full breakdown of those accounts, item by item —debt, margins, capex, and units delivered— yields a difference that surprises anyone expecting otherwise. What's striking is that the data settles nothing. Some respond that such a rise is pure bubble, that verticals are paid for with verticals, and that Bitcoin already taught the pattern. The discussion has moved from "it's going to go bankrupt" to "it's overvalued," which is a tacit acknowledgment that the first prediction failed.

The cracks that do exist: debt, autonomy, and quality

Not everything is favorable smoke. At the close of the third quarter of 2019, Tesla owed more than $12 billion and needed to increase capex to build the Cybertruck and Model Y. In debt interest alone, it was paying more than it earned from its smaller models in some markets. The margin with the full mix was around 19% and fell every month that passed.

The list of unfulfilled promises is long: the $30,000 Model 3 never reached that price, full self-driving was announced for the end of a year that has already passed, and spontaneous fires in new units made uncomfortable headlines. In 2022, Chinese manufacturer BYD doubled Tesla's market share in the Asian country, and models from Porsche and BMW were pressing from above. On an open day about autonomy in 2019, the company went so far as to say that almost all its structural spending would go to that technology: the announcement left staff and half the industry cold.

2022: the stock falls 71% and Musk buys Twitter

Last year the pendulum swung back. Tesla lost 71% on the stock market, and anyone who put in 1,000 euros on January 1 was left with less than 300. The stock dropped to $167, levels from two years earlier, and many read it as the beginning of the end. For the most acerbic, it was the moment to go "all in."

Along the way, Musk bought Twitter, a move some read as a distraction and others as confirmation that the character sells more than the product. Afterwards, the stock rebounded to over $400 and closed at 479, which left anyone who had sung the definitive death knell looking ridiculous. Again. The back-and-forth also served to remind that the company had sold part of its own treasury stock with the stock at highs, a detail that the most skeptical did not let pass.

Is Musk like Ruiz-Mateos?

The comparison that gives the monitoring its title has a basic problem. Ruiz-Mateos was a real person, with a business group that disintegrated and a known legal journey; Musk is, according to one of the harshest positions, a marketing product. Defenders of the parallel point to the pattern: accelerated expansion with debt, futuristic promises, and a narrative that sustains the valuation. Detractors respond that RUMASA did not sell 1.2 million units of anything.

In between, Musk's space venture has acted as a counterweight: dozens of reused launches, a satellite constellation, and a cadence that years ago seemed impossible. Those who attack Tesla often end up also discussing SpaceX, and there the parallel with Ruiz-Mateos's empire completely unravels.

The only firm thing is that the company is still standing. With these numbers, the bankruptcy would already be seven years late. A record, when it comes to prophecies.

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