Between the demise of ‘La Jamais Contente’ (see Chap. 1) and Formula E came the electric car, an obscurity in motorsports not merely because the competing technology was better adapted to the industrialized lifestyles of the twentieth century, but also because the fossil-fuelled car was tied to identity and class. Above all, the evolution of the car impacted Western societies, as it compartmentalized progress and modernity. David Gartman (2004) outlines three ages of automobilism. He calls the first ‘The Age of Class Distinction’, starting in the late nineteenth century. Drawing on Bourdieu’s theories on distinction, ‘in which different classes compete for cultural capital or status honor’ (Gartman, 2004, p. 170), the exclusiveness that is tied to production (craft skills) and expensiveness (they were unreachable to all but the wealthy) and the first impact on society ‘solidified their association with class privilege’ (Gartman, 2004, p. 171). According to Gartman, cars soon became ‘an essential accessory of the leisure class, which used them for touring, racing and parading down fashionable boulevards’ (2004, p. 171).
The status of the car was amplified by the emergence of road races in France, from Paris to Rouen (first run in 1894) and Paris to Bordeaux and back (1895), and even in the US, from Chicago to Evanston (1895). Despite Jenatzy’s record run in 1899, it became clear that petrol-fuelled engines outperformed steam and electricity as power sources. In 1904 the Association Internationale des Automobile Clubs Reconnus (AIACR) (renamed
Fédération Internationale de l’Automobile (FIA) in 1946) was founded in Paris, and French newspapers invented a vernacular to cover motorsports and even became event hosts. Sometimes these connections linked the US and Europe. The Gordon Bennett Cup, for example, ran between 1900 and 1905 and was initiated by the owner of the New York Herald. Eyeing a wider market in which cars were ‘testifying to refined cultural tastes’ (Gartman, 2004, p. 172), car manufacturers found a broader incentive to utilize motorsport as a brand enhancing tool to showcase performance, design and technological ingenuity. Simultaneously, whereas British car manufacturers would ‘shun standardized production for fear it would undermine the distinction of auto ownership’ (Gartman, 2004, p. 173), the emerging interest amongst the lower classes, together with an economic upswing, stimulated automotive manufacturers in the US to diversify their product lines.
According to Gartman (2004), it became a trade-off where ‘mere ownership lost its ability to convey
distinction’ (p. 173), but in return required car manufacturers to put more effort into making their products distinguishable. This is the start of what Gartman calls ‘the era of mass individuality’, which was characterized by the creation of artificial differences between qualitatively similar cars to meet ‘the demand for cultural legitimation of the new system of mass production’ (Gartman, 2004, p. 177). These creations took the form of an expanded model portfolio and an annual renewal of the car models. After World War II, Fordism became the victim of its own success. In the third age of automobilism, which Gartman calls ‘the era of subcultural difference’, car manufacturers realized that consumers demanded real difference between cars, instead of cosmetic variations. Consequently, manufacturers increased model offerings to include niches rather than broad groups. Incompatible with the old Fordist system, the new reality for car manufacturers required new production models, technological focus (due to the oil crisis and environmental concerns in the 1970s) and brand orientation. The long-term effects of this surfaced in the late 1980s, when a postmodern consumerist logic gained a foothold in the car world and product diversity exploded. From here on car manufacturers sold a way of life, not just a car.
Due to this convergence of consumerist preferences and identity-generating elements, as well as a rapidly expanding infrastructure and suburbanization, electric cars were far and few between. As oil companies grew massively in the 1960s, the electric car disappeared into oblivion for the next century. However, in the 1970s a potential comeback was nascent. In 1973, in the wake of the revolutionary years in France and the oil supply crisis caused by the Arab oil embargo on nations supporting Israel during the Yom Kippur War, a group of engineer-sociologists working for Electricité de France (EDF) ‘noticed a ground swell of opinion against conventional fossil fuel-based cars’ (Parayil, 2002, p. 56). As cars were seen as a necessity in France due to the major industrial employment and the national identity that was generated through major businesses like Peugeot, Citröen and Renault, the EDF engineers approached the car’s place in society from a different angle. As Callon (1986, p. 84) dryly observes: ‘It is by no means easy to create a new market of this sort in a society organized entirely around the traditional motorcar.’ Partnering with Renault to achieve the aim of creating a véhicule électrique (VEL
) was thus not enough for EDF. Actors from the political system (from municipalities to the Ministry of Quality of Life), social movements and environmentally conscious consumers were also included to optimize the chance of success (Callon, 1986).
One reason for including this broad range of stakeholders was an awareness of VEL’s technological limits. Unable to go particularly fast and with a low range, political support was needed for a society in which the everyday rhythm was designed to be less stressful and immobile than that based on fossil fuel cars. Blessed by politicians who drove electric cars in front of journalists and spoke condescendingly about Americanization and the vulgarities of consumerism, the project therefore seemed to be at the right time and in the right place (Griset & Larroque, 2006). But VEL failed, and apart from the technological aspects—the product was useless against its competitors—the engineers’ sociological analysis was flawed. Above all, they were wrong in their analysis of society, in which ‘the internal combustion engine is the offspring of an industrial civilization that is behind us’ (Callon, 1986, p. 85). Consumption was not dead. As the car embodied a symbol of social standing, it was natural for consumers to want more differentiation in cars in accordance with their tastes and preferences. What Gartman (2004) saw as a postmodern idea of the car, emerging as a yuppie phenomenon in the 1980s, had actually already existed for several decades.
All this can be substantiated by reviewing the influx of sponsors in motorsports. The cloverleaf of races, the media, sponsors and professionalization became instrumental to the principle that in the 1960s was known as ‘win on Sunday, sell on Monday’. Coined by an American wheeler-dealer and Ford engineer (Tasca & Caldwell, 1997), it represented a philosophy that fitted all kinds of motorsports. Although the slogan has been contested by empirical studies, the idea of honing the identity of the brand, searching for technological trickle-down effects and getting brand exposure have been important aspects of the automotive industry since its inception. Motorsports were seen as a form of ‘live advertising’ for car manufacturers, suppliers and sponsors wanting to be associated with the performance symbolic of racing. With the advent of television sports in the 1960s, where rallying in the UK and NASCAR in the US stood out as particularly popular, this cloverleaf slowly began to form a business model. From that point on, sponsors viewed the world of motorsport as a symbolic treasure chest—despite questionable financial results (Jensen & Cobbs, 2014)—for brand activation, products and services associated with the icons of racing: competitiveness and winning mentality, coolness and glamour.
Inducing this business model was that the varieties of motorsport began to settle into particular formats in the 1970s. Even though they had been there since the early days of FIA, with long-distance rallies (Europe) and track-racing (US) as the two most distinct ones, the commercialization of motorsport in the 1960s allowed car manufacturers, the media and FIA to see diversity as a way of exploring niches, rather than mutual threats. These niches did not evolve automatically, but were explored by business-savvy entrepreneurs either with or without FIA’s approval. While today Formula 1 is a €8 billion business, in the early 1970s it was a poorly organized championship with lax rules, ad hoc logistics and no real financial plan. To British entrepreneur Bernie Ecclestone, who had been involved in Formula 1 for some time and also owned a team, this situation made little sense given the global interest in racing. At a meeting between team owners in 1972, he aired the idea of creating an organization that would deal with all of the above on behalf of the teams. Although he did not put himself in charge from the beginning, the absence of interest from the others made him jump on the bandwagon together with fellow team associate Brit Max Mosley. That was the start of a relationship between someone who would turn out to be one of the UK’s richest men, and another who would become FIA’s president (1993–2009), thereby leading to the development of Formula 1 as a techno-cultural complex characterized by a stimulating bad-boy imagery, the sexualization of women and bloodsport narratives.
In this development of motorsport the electric car had no credibility for a long time. Then four things happened in the early 2000s. First, the global financial crisis spurred new collaboration forms in the automotive industry. Responding to two needs at the same time—a more efficient use of energy to ease the ecological strain on contemporary consumption patterns (Eriksen, 2016) and the growing understanding that a race has never been won inefficiently—Skeete (2019) argues that a new type of knowledge transfer occurred between UK-based motorsport entrepreneurs and the automotive sector after the 2008 financial crisis. Unlike the traditional view the current focus, as exemplified by Skeete with Audi’s involvement in motorsports, was on engine technology, not engines. Second, when Tesla’s Model S was introduced in 2012, after the company had escaped bankruptcy, the view of the electric car was ready to change. Third, ‘Dieselgate’ emerged, where Volkswagen in 2015 was caught cheating with emissions and tried to cover it up. This led to a tremendous PR scandal and large fines from the European Commission, as well as a rebuff of diesel cars in general, which gave politicians (European in particular) who were otherwise reluctant to criticize the car industry a forceful incentive to evoke green demands (see Gaim et al., 2019). Finally, Formula E survived its start-up issues and became a world championship in a few years.
What is ironic is that while Tesla benefitted from Dieselgate, the company has refrained from competing with a ‘works team’ in any form of motorsport. In return, Musk’s competitors have used the momentum created by Tesla to expand their product portfolios to include EVs—for example by establishing Formula E teams. Others are still not impressed. In 2017, the Formula E race in Montreal proved to be unpopular amongst residents due to its detrimental impact on local businesses. In contrast to the rhetoric of stakeholder inclusion, the reality was, according to a survey, that local restaurants suffered from Formula E’s food trucks. Hence, the city council abandoned its support for the following year and was dropped from the race calendar (Sylt, 2018; see also Chap. 2). In 2019, Helmut Marko, a senior consultant to the Red Bull Formula 1 teams and representative of one of the largest corporative actors in motorsport (individual sponsor, media house, team owner), said, ‘Formula E is for us only a marketing excuse from the automotive industry to distract from the diesel scandal.’Footnote 1 Some have also questioned the credibility of the series as long as they race in gas-guzzling car cultures such as the US, or in Saudi Arabia, a country which apart from its human rights issues is also the second largest producer of crude oil (see Chap. 6). But whether it is a gigantic marketing ploy or a wholehearted attempt to accelerate the development of environmentally friendly cars is not the main issue here. Rather, it is to what degree Formula E is helping electric cars on their way to becoming mainstream.