Why F1 must sacrifice its 'DNA' for the spectacle

When Francis Crick and James Watson first proposed the double-helix structure of DNA, they had no idea that the term would become a trite synonym for a sport's fundamentals, usually employed within an argument resisting against any kind of change. Humans are creatures of habit, after all.

And so, as Formula 1's lawmakers and governors address the herculean task of defining 2021's new regulations, the collective careful tread through the minefield seems to be rooted in the anthropomorphisation of motorsport and refusal to 'upset F1's DNA'.

Being pedantic, it's odd to accuse a completely manufactured category in a completely manufactured sport of having DNA. But to a degree, it's right; there's some very real values in F1, shaped by years of intense competition, sporting excellence and engineering prowess. The top echelon of single-seater racing has (metaphorically, of course) become a living, breathing creature, adapting to its climate and years of technological advancement to grow - but only within its own bounds.

The romanticised view of F1, especially of seasons gone by, is that it was once a perpetual source of heroic battles. Man and machine combined to take on rivals, dicing for supremacy at close quarters for entire races and taking the chequered flag separated by mere millimetres.

That view continues, and suggests that modern F1 has somehow regressed into a turgid, diluted spectacle that offers about as much visual appeal as an exhibition of Brutalist architecture.

But F1 has never, contrary to popular belief, been like that.

In 30 years' time, the thrilling scraps in the recent Austrian and British grands prix will surely become the out-of-context example of demands for better racing, just as clips of wheel-to-wheel moments between past champions are cited as examples of the past being "better".

But F1 is not a pick and mix stand, and closely fought battles between champions of yore were, like today, punctuated with races brimming with tedium.

The hotly anticipated 2021 rules changes aim to address that age-old problem. In conjunction with the FIA, F1's in-house technical team has decided to drop the contemporary flat floor and diffuser combo for Venturi tunnels - in essence, reintroducing ground effect for the first time since 1982.

By taking a leaf from the IndyCar playbook - the series has used similar underbody aerodynamics to good effect - F1 hopes to finally shrug off the 'dirty air' problem commonly attributed to the wake of the tyres, rear wing and front wing outwash. Then, with all of that ticked off, F1 might at last enjoy closer racing.

It seems that quite a vocal portion of those who work in F1 and the championship's fanbase want the better racing promised by the new rules, but don't want to compromise on cars shifting towards common parts lest it partially resemble a single-spec category

Imagine it: a calendar of 20-plus races, each as captivating as the last. Trips to Sochi and Paul Ricard won't be dismissed with the "just another grand prix" tag, as they'll provide their own gripping action. With an expected cost cap, the teams will have invested similar quantities in similar cars, bringing the action closer together and giving more than just a lucky three or four drivers a tilt at victory.

That's an ideal scenario, surely. Enough on-track action to grow and retain an audience is in F1's best interests, and will expose the cast of teams and drivers to a greater crowd of people. It's what fans have been crying out for for decades, and it's what drivers say they want.

But that's opened up another can of worms, which if placed delicately enough on the metaphorical tracks could threaten to derail the whole conversation about 2021.

Currently, concerns over the 2021 regulations seem to focus on the individuality of the cars. There's the motorsporting adage that if you painted all cars black they'd be hard to distinguish, and the worry is that with a more prescriptive approach to defining the rules, that will be even more true.

Racing Point's technical chief Andrew Green sums up that duality nicely, and suggests that the new focus on underbody aerodynamics will inhibit the innovation aspect of F1's appeal.

"If we're looking at trying to have the cars race closer together then I think that's the right thing to do, that makes complete sense," he says. "But I think at the same time, we need to keep Formula 1 at the pinnacle. It needs to be a technological amazement.

"That's where I think the sport needs to be. It's not just about having cars that are close, it's about a bit more of a wow factor and we need to make sure we don't lose any of that."

But that's the argument that's stopped F1 from reaching its full potential on-track. Naturally, the fans want flat-out, close racing, but teams want to justify the millions of dollars currently spent on engineering, research and development.

Of course, F1 has always been a hotbed of innovation, but that has long since gravitated towards the car's internals and suspension design. Nonetheless, new developments have been a part of the category and so naturally there's a strong reluctance to move towards a spec formula.

It seems that quite a vocal portion of those who work in F1 and the championship's fanbase want the better racing promised by the new rules, but don't want to compromise on cars shifting towards common parts lest it partially resemble a single-spec category.

It echoes a set of current affairs - or perpetual affairs - in that it seems to have been going on forever.

When Conservative MP Mark Field trudged into Downing Street in 2016 with a set of Brexit notes, an age-old phrase bore a new one in the government's persistence to wrap up a better deal without having to pay its dues within the EU. Almost carelessly left exposed to photographers, as if it was his intention to leak those notes, the phrase "have your cake and eat it" appeared quite prominently on the page - almost in foresight of the ensuing stalemate.

Thus, the phrase "cakeism" entered the Brexit lexicon (Brexicon?), and it also aptly sums up the attitude to the 2021 rules discussion. Desiring to retain F1's mythical 'DNA', but also crowbar in an improved spectacle, is a prime example of cakeism, and suggests that any eventual rules must have all of the desirable qualities without any of the associated pitfalls. But every decision has consequences, and so it's a near-impossibility to do so. Hence the current impasse, and the delay in publishing the final regulations until October.

F1 should be more open to keeping its technical prowess and ability to create a thrilling spectacle apart

But when you consider other racing categories less beholden to their past, they're able to make uncompromising decisions without being torn between two extremes. IndyCar wasn't a spec series in the past, but has become one - arguably out of necessity, but also to best encourage stronger racing on-track. Formula 2 regularly earns plaudits for its frenetic action, and that too is a spec series. MotoGP naturally has less variation in appearance compared to F1, and doesn't suffer for a lack of visual variation in its action.

F1, meanwhile, tinkers but rarely makes wholesale changes. It operates within a boundary of its own making, rarely branching out. Even the 'return' to ground-effect aerodynamics bears roots in its past. There's current talk of a return to refuelling, too, continuing the cyclical nature that F1 pursues in its changes year-on-year. Refuelling was never conducive to good racing, but that seems to have been conveniently forgotten.

If that happens, then all it does it prove that the approach to creating the rules is based solely on sentiment. The old axiom suggests that attempting to do the same thing twice and expecting different results is the definition of insanity, and on that basis F1's rulemakers must surely have some kind of loyalty card system for straitjackets.

Flippancy aside, to effect any real change, the higher-ups in the championship's governing body have to draw on ideas from outside of the Formula 1 bubble - even if that means sacrificing some its long-standing furniture.

The decision in defining F1's future seems pretty binary. Either, it persists on its current path and continues to keep its DNA. Good, close racing will remain sporadic at best, and its detractors will continue to complain ad infinitum about the less-than-stunning spectacle.

Or, alternatively, F1 leaves its past behind and makes a few changes to the formula to encourage far more enthralling racing. It might create upsets and it might enrage the purists, but F1 will surely and more crucially receive an influx of new fans captivated by the surplus of action on-track.

This isn't to say it should completely cut off its roots and become a full spec series. Instead, F1 should be more open to keeping its technical prowess and ability to create a thrilling spectacle apart. It's certainly possible to do, and manufacturers can remain interested by focusing developments to the powertrain, internals and suspension design.

And if each race is every bit as mesmerising as F1's current highlight reel from the last two races, who is going to care that the cars look a bit too similar?