The Formula 1 of 2026 has betrayed its initial promises

The new era of Formula 1 has left both drivers and fans disappointed: just three races have been enough to understand that something, in the ambitious 2026 project, went wrong from the very beginning.

Once upon a time, there was a promise. The promise of a renewed Formula 1, finally capable of combining spectacle and modernity, pure competition and technological awareness. The 2026 regulations had been presented as the culmination of years of reflection, the result of a collective effort that was supposed to restore to racing that dramatic tension which seemed to have faded over time. Yet after only three Grands Prix, that promise already lay under the weight of a growing disillusionment that is becoming increasingly difficult to hide.

Nelsinho Piquet, a driver born into racing heritage and a voice unburdened by diplomatic caution, had the courage to say what many in the paddock are thinking in hushed tones: changes are inevitable. It is not a minor admission. It is confirmation that something within the grand design of modern Formula 1 cracked before it even had the chance to fully solidify.

The broken promise of Formula 1

Stefano Domenicali responded to the criticism with the confidence of someone who cannot afford the luxury of doubt. “What is artificial? An overtake is an overtake,” said the CEO of Formula 1, with the sharp simplicity that belongs to someone managing a sixty-two-billion-dollar media empire. The statement is true, of course. But it is true in the same way any tautology is true: it tells us nothing we did not already know, and above all, it fails to address the question that truly matters. The issue is not the existence of overtaking. It is its nature. It is the way it is generated, encouraged, almost orchestrated by regulatory architectures that seem designed not to highlight talent, but to simulate its effects.

This is precisely the point: the difference between an overtake earned through raw courage and one facilitated by the system’s structure is not a trivial matter for nostalgic purists. It is the difference between genuine emotion and its staged imitation.

Piquet, speaking to SoyMotor with a level of intellectual honesty rarely seen in a paddock often shaped by euphemisms, used a very specific word: artificial. He used it without hesitation, acknowledging that fans “are not happy” and that “not everything is working well.” He added that it is only a matter of time, that adaptation will come, and that technology inevitably dictates its own pace. Reasonable words, certainly. Yet they sometimes sound like the consolation offered to someone who has just realized that the long-awaited gift does not match its wrapping.

The core issue, which Piquet deserves credit for raising without disguising it, concerns the almost impossible balance between two objectives that the 2026 Formula 1 is trying to serve simultaneously: ecological efficiency and sporting spectacle. In theory, this synthesis is desirable. In practice, however, the friction between these two logics produces something hybrid—quite literally—that does not fully satisfy either side.

The cars lose speed on the straights during energy recovery phases, creating artificial deltas between performance peaks. A fluctuation that Piquet suggests should be limited to within five kilometers per hour. It is a technical proposal, almost bureaucratic in its precision. And yet, it is revealing: if there is a need to cap speed variation to prevent races from appearing manipulated, then perhaps the issue is structural rather than marginal.

Formula 1: the responsibility of decision-makers

There is also the question of responsibility, which Piquet addresses with balance but which deserves a more ruthless examination. The 2026 regulations were not imposed by an external authority on Formula 1: they were conceived, negotiated and approved by all the stakeholders that make up the system—FIA, manufacturers and teams. This is a fact that removes the FIA from the role of scapegoat, but at the same time makes any potential failure even more significant. When you fail alone, you can blame no one. When everyone fails together, it is the system itself that produced the error.

Then there are the drivers. Max Verstappen, who has never been known for rhetorical restraint, has openly expressed his discomfort with this new generation of cars. He has done so with the bluntness of someone who has always driven at the absolute limit and now finds himself managing a machine that no longer demands that same limit, or demands it in a different, less physical and less instinctive way. Lando Norris, the reigning world champion, has echoed similar concerns. These are not isolated voices: they reflect a broader unease among those who actually practice the sport, not just comment on it.

Piquet understands these criticisms. He understands them because they belong to the muscle memory of someone who experienced a different kind of Formula 1—one of refueling, flat-out qualifying laps, and cars that required total physical and mental commitment. “It feels like you’re not reaching the maximum with the car,” he observed. And it is precisely in that perception—whether grounded in reality or amplified by nostalgia—that the real communication problem, and perhaps even the substance of modern Formula 1, lies. Because if the most dominant champion of the modern era does not feel he is pushing to the limit, then something in the equation is not working.

Formula 1 and the perpetual transition

Let it be clear: Formula 1 is not dead. It is in transition, as Piquet describes it—a term that, in contemporary managerial language, has the advantage of sounding positive regardless of what it describes. But transitions, to be tolerated, must show the direction in which they are heading. And at the moment, that direction is not clear enough to compensate for what has been lost along the way.

The great promise of 2026 was that of a championship that would be fairer, more spectacular and more modern. Three races do not make a season, and it would be unfair to deliver final judgments. But three races are enough to understand whether the journey has begun in the right direction. And the impression—shared by fans, drivers and even those who build this Formula 1—is that something fundamental went wrong right from the start. “An overtake is an overtake,” as Domenicali says. Yes. But a race is something more.