Formula One and Beyond

by Max Mosley

  American racing is divided into different types of competition, each with its own sanctioning body. The most important are probably NASCAR (the National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) for so-called stock (i.e. road) cars, and the NHRA (National Hot Rod Association) for dragsters. There is also a big single-seat series called IndyCar, which was diminished when it split into two rival championships several years ago. In addition to all this, America also has many different forms of oval racing for a variety of competition cars. There are some 1200 permanent racing layouts, ranging from small local quarter-mile ovals, drag strips (a straight piece of tarmac on which two cars try to out-accelerate one another) and road circuits, to massive facilities like Indianapolis and Daytona. The sanctioning bodies in the USA all belong to ACCUS, the Automobile Competitions Committee for the United States, the American national sporting authority at the FIA. If an American driver wants to race outside the United States, he or she needs an international FIA licence issued by ACCUS.

  The first time I saw a top fuel dragster run at an NHRA championship drag race, I was standing beside Nelson Piquet, still in a wheelchair after his accident during practice for the 1992 Indianapolis 500. With over 5000 horsepower and engines running on nitromethane (virtually a liquid explosive), they race down a quarter-mile straight, reaching more than 300 mph in less than five seconds. Neither of us had ever seen anything like it. We just looked at each other after the first run. Later that day, I was invited to join the starter, who stands between the two competing machines. Standing that close when they take off is like being in the middle of an explosion; it shakes your body to the core and the noise is overwhelming.

  The NHRA probably has more competition licence-holders than any other national or international motor sport body. It was started in 1951 when increasing numbers of young people were holding impromptu drag races on public roads. The idea was to get drag racing off the streets and, at the same time, allow all sorts of cars to compete safely on dedicated facilities. NASCAR, by contrast, had its origins in the days of bootlegging, when specially modified cars were needed to outrun the sheriff. I was introduced to one ancient NASCAR team owner who was said to have been a legendary bootlegger in his day.

  It was founded by Bill France in 1948 and his family still own and run it today. Last time I was in Daytona, Bill France Jr was firmly in charge. When the racing became rather processional, he turned to us in the tower and said: ‘It’s time for that Frenchman again, Jean-Claude Debris.’ He then took the microphone and announced: ‘Debris on the circuit, debris on the circuit.’ Out came the yellow flags, the field closed up and the race became exciting. It was not obvious where the debris had been but it certainly improved the spectacle. Although NASCAR also races on road circuits, the cars come into their own on ovals such as Daytona.

  Oval racing is part of American motor sport culture. The Indianapolis Motor Speedway was built before the First World War. In those days, even racing cars would not go round corners properly, so ovals were built with banking, allowing the cars to get round the bends without having to slow down too much. Today, of course, the problem is cars are often too fast, even on corners with no banking. Modern racing cars running on the Indianapolis Oval average well over 200 mph. Nelson Piquet explained to me that you went out, got used to the speed until you could do the entire lap with the accelerator flat on the floor. Then, still without lifting, you start to reduce the aerodynamic downforce on the car. This gives you greater straight-line speed but reduces the car’s grip. The limit is when the car becomes unstable in the corners.

  Despite the very high speeds and the fact that you can see the cars for the entire lap, oval racing has never really caught on in Europe. When Formula One cars ran at Indianapolis, they only used one corner of the oval and raced on a purpose-built road course on the infield.

  In the early 1990s I visited Zhuhai, where they were planning to build the first significant circuit in China. It was only a short drive from Macau and, on arrival, we went to the town hall and set out with the deputy mayor in a motorcade to look at the site of the proposed circuit. Zhuhai was a big city but I was puzzled to notice there was no traffic. When I asked him why, the dignitary pointed up a side street where all the traffic had been stopped so that we would not be delayed. When I told Jean about this she thought it outrageous: ‘Think how angry you would be if you were held up in London because some sportsperson was visiting,’ she said.

  In addition to their plans for circuit racing, we asked Guy Goutard, who had been president of the Rally Commission for many years, to discuss with the Chinese national motor sport authority the possibility of holding a WRC event in China. It was already obvious in the early 1990s that China had a great economic future and we thought a major rally would encourage motor sport. They had some ideal terrain and could make military and police personnel available to ensure safety. The Australian ASN was able to provide the necessary organisational expertise and the event went ahead. Having been warned by us about the speed of the cars, the authorities’ safety precautions were initially over the top. The army even requested people with homes on the route to leave for 24 hours while it was on.

  Later, during a visit to Beijing, I visited the head of the police to thank them for their help with the event. We had one of those very formal meetings where you both sit in chairs with an interpreter in between. The police chief had several deputies on his side of the room. I had our people on mine. Apparently, he had more than a million police under his command. After the formal polite exchanges and my thanks, I couldn’t resist asking him how it had been for disciplined organisations like the police and the army during the Cultural Revolution. I could sense the embarrassment of my delegation at this apparent breach of protocol but, far from being offended, he was really interesting on the subject and revealed that, earlier in his career, he had been involved in the trial of the Gang of Four.

  Eventually, an outstanding Formula One circuit was constructed near Shanghai, where the Chinese Grand Prix is now held each year. It was built on a swamp, a significant engineering feat that followed a spectacular ground-breaking ceremony at which I had to make a little speech. Going back a couple of years later, it was difficult to believe what they had achieved having seen the site when they started.

  The World Rally Championship was, with Formula One, one of the two great FIA motor sport championships. But it had been neglected and had never been developed beyond a collection of events loosely put together as a championship each year by FISA. It was still run much as Formula One had been before Bernie and I started working for reform – any change would be opposed because of the vested interests of the organisers. It had a bigger fan base and conceivably greater worldwide potential than Formula One, but desperately needed the same sort of management.

  In a rally, the cars travel on an ordinary road to a so-called special stage. This is a section of road or track closed to ordinary traffic which cars race down, one at a time, against the clock. Each car has a crew of two, driver and navigator. The navigator organises everything, makes sure the car arrives at each special stage on time and gives the driver information about the next corner and other hazards. With a single rally consisting of hundreds of kilometres of special stage, it is impossible for the driver to remember the course in the way a racing driver does a circuit, hence the need for so-called pace notes. The cars are road-legal because they have to travel on the public highway between stages.

  The huge commercial advantage rallies have over circuit racing is that no expensive infrastructure is required. Almost any country could run a world championship rally on its ordinary roads and tracks, provided it could make sufficient army or police personnel available to back up the race officials. If necessary, the officials can come from other countries to run the event, as they did initially in China. Formula One, on the other hand, needs a very expensive track with a full range of spectator facilities before you even start.

  The sport’s commercial potential is glaring, so
I persuaded Bernie to come to a world championship rally in Portugal because I hoped he would like what he saw and maybe apply his business skills to the WRC. We got off to a bad start when the former world champion who was driving our car got lost and took forever to find the rally despite the help of a former world champion navigator. Eventually we arrived on a hillside overlooking a special stage. I suggested climbing out of the car to watch, but Bernie put one beautiful Italian loafer on the ground, gave the mud a withering look and hopped back into the car. Rallying was not for him.

  We eventually did a deal with Bernie but it never really took off. In any case, once we made our settlement with the EU Commission, he had to give up any involvement in the WRC. The commission wanted us to encourage the commercialisation of the championship on a similar basis to Formula One, but for competition law reasons this had to be with someone other than Bernie. John Large (former president of the Australian ASN and a successful businessman) negotiated on our behalf. A deal was struck with David Richards, a former world champion rally navigator who by now was running the very successful Prodrive car preparation business. This envisaged the FIA eventually receiving €100 million. In the end, David sold the business to North One Television, but they struggled with it and are now no longer involved. What a shame that a terrifically exciting sport, with a vast international fan base and immense commercial potential, never attracted a figure to harness and market it, as Formula One did with Bernie.

  Although a major world championship with a global following, the WRC always felt different. It was out in the countryside, so you got much more of a feel for the country you were visiting than with Formula One. On top of this, there were local competitors, because the structure of a rally with a large number of cars running individually against the clock makes this possible. It was strange to go to an event in the southern hemisphere in July and find myself in snow-covered fields.

  As well as rallying, in the early years of my presidency and before we did our deal with the European Commission, I tried to mobilise Bernie’s commercial expertise to drive various types of motor sport. It never worked because, fundamentally, he could not engage with them as he had with Formula One. Although I persuaded him to do a certain amount, he inevitably trod on the toes of people already running businesses in particular sports. Some of this was quickly resolved – for example, we had a good, if relatively small, championship for the kind of cars that run at Le Mans and other long-distance races, but he met with problems in other areas such as truck racing.

  We could never overcome the difficulty that lengthy events such as rallies and long-distance races are no good for live television. I saw great potential in using the latest technology, particularly for rallies where the internet would allow an individual team and driver to be followed in real time on the web using on-board cameras, but we could never find anyone to exploit it properly. As already mentioned, Bernie, unusually for him, had a blind spot for the internet. He just didn’t get it and still doesn’t.

  The fundamental problem with trying to run the sporting side of the FIA is that it has such a variety of categories, most of them very different from one another. Everything for four or more wheels is FIA; three wheels or fewer is the FIM (Fédération Internationale de Motocyclisme). This means the FIA governs all international karting, truck racing, touring car racing, rallying (on ordinary, but closed, roads), cross-country racing (including deserts), rallycross (part tarmac, part grass), off-road racing, drag racing, sports car racing, GT and prototype racing, quite apart from Formula One and all other forms of single-seat racing. It’s like trying to run a federation for every conceivable ball game from soccer to tennis, baseball, American football, rugby, squash, bowls, golf and so on.

  One of our problems was protecting competitors and officials from misconceived laws. A potentially serious problem arose when the new European arrest warrant (EAW) was announced. I realised at once that it was a serious threat to anyone responsible for, or involved in, a dangerous sport in the EU. Ostensibly designed to deal with terrorism and serious crime, it set the barrier far too low and exposed those responsible for dangerous sports to possible arrest for incidents of which they had no knowledge, still less control. For example, there could be an accident involving spectators at a rally or a hill climb somewhere in the EU. Inexpensive to run and very popular in many parts of Europe, hill climbs are speed competitions in which cars race, one at a time, against the clock, climbing a stretch of mountain road which has been closed to traffic. They often attract large numbers of spectators. If it were on the FIA’s international calendar, the local organiser might try to escape responsibility by claiming that the fault lay with the FIA.

  The local prosecutor could charge an FIA official with involuntary manslaughter, the maximum penalty for which would usually exceed the EAW minimum. A UK or French magistrate would be obliged to order arrest and extradition to the relevant country. There the authorities would say: ‘Look, it’s not serious – if you admit you are guilty you can be on a plane home tomorrow.’ Should you reply, ‘No, I’m not going to because I’m innocent,’ they would explain that you could of course go to trial, but it wouldn’t be for a few months. Meanwhile, you sit in their prison. It would also endanger participants. For example, the Italian authorities could have used it against Frank Williams and Patrick Head after the Senna accident.

  This has to be seen in the context of the readiness of some EU countries to lock people up until they plead guilty. The danger of being pressured, even blackmailed, into taking the blame when you are not at fault was obvious. A meeting was arranged with a UK Home Office minister where I explained the dangers, particularly that the threshold was far too low. As implemented, it might, for example, expose a schoolteacher who had led a trip abroad on which one of the pupils had been hurt in an accident to the possibility of being locked up because of a refusal to plead guilty when blameless.

  I was met with mulish incomprehension. Having to deal with Home Office civil servants and one of their junior ministers at first hand made me realise how endangered civil liberties would be in the UK if left to them. As for myself, I found a personal solution to the threat. In 2004 I moved to Monaco, technically not part of the EU. I saved a considerable amount of tax and my travel time to most European destinations was also substantially reduced. And Monaco is a very pleasant place to live. As things turned out in practice, the UK courts seem alive to the possibility of abuse and so far, I am relieved to say, my worst fears have not been realised.

  22

  MAINLY WORK – BUT NOT ENTIRELY

  Of course, my job as president of the FIA was not wholly made up of protracted and exhaustive meetings. One of the perks was the opportunity to experience rides in various competition cars and interesting planes, like the Red Bull Alpha Jets or an antique helicopter from the Museum of Army Flying. It may seem frivolous but it was also quite instructive as well as entertaining. For example, slick tyres (tyres with no tread and therefore more rubber in contact with the ground) were first used in 1970, after I had stopped racing. Driving a competition car on slicks for the first time showed me how much more smoothly and predictably a car would slide sideways on them, but also how extremely treacherous they can be when cold.

  On the rare occasions I went to a Formula One race, I was sometimes allowed to drive the safety car round the circuit during the preliminaries. The specially modified AMG Mercedes had amazing performance compared with an ordinary road car, although was very slow by Formula One standards. I really enjoyed it but was always worried I would crash. Mercedes had a spare at the races, but I could imagine all too well the delighted mockery heading my way if I destroyed the safety car.

  At the other extreme, and also instructive, Tim Keown, who was then chairman of the RAC, let me drive a very old car belonging to the club – I think it was a 1901 Mors. It made me realise that good brakes and steering are not necessarily safer. If you can hardly steer and require a very long distance to stop, you adjust your driving
accordingly. Part of that is slowing down to a speed at which you would be very unlikely to get hurt.

  The two most interesting experiences were a ride in the McLaren two-seater, courtesy of Ron Dennis, with Martin Brundle at the wheel, and a ride with Colin McRae in a WRC car. I felt slightly uncomfortable in the McLaren two-seater because, once in it, you couldn’t get out unaided. Part of the bodywork was bolted in position over you. I asked Martin to be sure to stop by a marshal’s post if it caught fire. But the ride was familiar, basically the same as I remembered from my time in the 1960s, only faster. Even with me in the car, I believe Martin was fast enough to have been competitive in the Formula 3000 race. It was pleasant and very exciting. Mika Häkkinen, who was driving for McLaren at the time, had offered to drive me but Ron Dennis, probably wisely, vetoed it – he realised Mika might well try to frighten me for a bit of fun and end up having an accident. The only comparable experiences were being taken round Interlagos by Emerson Fittipaldi in a Porsche 917 and round Riverside by Chris Amon in the March CanAm car. A prized memory of being driven round Monza in a 1925 Alfa Romeo Grand Prix car by Vittorio Brambilla, when I had the role of riding mechanic working the petrol pump, was slightly different. Nothing could have demonstrated more the progress racing car technology had made in 70 years.

  The ride with Colin McRae in a WRC car was on Malcolm Wilson’s test stage in Cumbria, high above Lake Bassenthwaite. Colin knew the track perfectly so didn’t need a co-driver with pace notes and could take me instead. His car control was amazing. Sitting next to him and observing what he could do when he was at the limit on an unpaved forest track was an unforgettable experience – anyone who thinks they can drive would quickly reconsider given an opportunity to sit next to a world-class rally driver when he or she is trying.