Zak Brown: ‘Destabilise’ rivals? That’s part of the job, says McLaren boss
Zak Brown has never been shy about the cut and thrust of Formula 1 politics. This week, he leaned into it. The McLaren CEO admitted he’s actively tried to “destabilise” rival teams—Red Bull most of all—as part of a broader plan to push McLaren to the front.
Speaking on talkSPORT, Brown gave a very F1 answer to a very F1 question: where does the competition really come from?
“Everywhere,” he said. “Because it depends on what it is: drivers, teams, sponsors, employees. You’re fighting hard… the competition off the field is as great as it is on the field, and it’s very political.”
Then came the line that’ll ping around paddock WhatsApp groups from Woking to Milton Keynes: “We are trying to, in our sport, destabilise other teams. So we’re not just trying to make our team as strong as possible.”
It’s hardly a secret Brown relishes the political arena. In recent years he’s regularly poked at Red Bull—how the team handles Max Verstappen, its two-team model with RB, and the culture around a long spell of dominance. That put him squarely at odds with Christian Horner, and while the temperature has dropped since Horner’s departure in July, Brown made clear the posture was always deliberate, not personal.
Inside McLaren, there’s even a nickname for it. “Andrea [Stella], our team principal, calls it ‘poison biscuits,’” Brown laughed. “You see it with the drivers, right? They talk trash to each other, and that’s all mental to try and get in each other’s heads. We do that at every level.”
The phrase is pure F1: a little cheeky, a little ruthless, and entirely on brand for a sport where momentum is as fragile as carbon fibre. McLaren’s resurgence has been underpinned by serious technical gains and a sharper operational edge, but there’s been a visible appetite to fight outside the garage too—whether that’s turning up the heat on rivals’ governance positions or, increasingly, prising talent loose from other teams. In a cost-cap world, influence and psychology are part of the tool kit.
Asked whether the sport misses Horner, Brown was diplomatic but candid. “Yeah, in the sense of he was an unbelievable team boss. Obviously, things went sideways the last couple years, I think he’ll be back. But I think sport is filled with characters, good guys, bad guys, all different. I think that’s what makes the sport fascinating.”
What’s notable is how aligned that is with the current F1 mood. The drama isn’t confined to Sundays. The ecosystem has become a seven-day show: transfer sagas, staff moves, governance flashpoints, social-media skirmishes. Brown is simply saying the quiet part out loud.
Viewed through a competitive lens, it tracks. McLaren’s trajectory has put them squarely in the title conversation, and that demands aggression on every front. Red Bull, even post-Horner, remains the benchmark. Ferrari under Fred Vasseur has rediscovered its teeth. Mercedes, quieter but never sleeping, lurks. It’s no longer enough to be tidy and quick; you have to be relentless.
Brown’s candour will ruffle feathers. It’s also disarming in its honesty. Plenty of team bosses play this game. Few are willing to label it—never mind with a phrase that sounds like something slipped under a hospitality tent flap at midnight.
And yet, that’s the point. Pressure in F1 is cumulative. A sharp quote can shift a narrative. A strategic hire can nudge a pit wall dynamic. A pointed question about a rival’s structure can force an FIA clarification that changes the grey areas. These are marginal gains, just in a different lane.
You don’t have to love it. But you can’t pretend it’s not effective.
Brown’s closing note on characters is a reminder that F1 still trades in personalities as much as lap time. In a season already full of storylines, you can pencil in another: McLaren aren’t just racing Red Bull. They’re probing them, prodding them, and—when opportunity knocks—passing them a biscuit.
