If you’ve been around this paddock long enough, you can spot the familiar cycle from a mile away. A big regulation swing lands, the first on-track running throws up a few awkward sensations, and someone inevitably reaches for the easiest comparison available. This time, with Formula 1’s 2026 cars leaning far harder on electrical power, the lazy shorthand has been “it’s turning into Formula E”.
Stefano Domenicali isn’t having it.
Speaking during a media session as the sport begins its new rules era, F1’s CEO pushed back on the idea that a bigger hybrid component blurs the series’ identity. In his view, the two categories aren’t converging so much as they’re being lumped together by people focusing on the headline number rather than what it actually does to a lap.
“We are already hybrid,” Domenicali said. “Hybridisation has been part of [F1] since 2014 in a different way.
“With all respect of our friends of Formula E, we are talking about two dimensions that are so different they are not even comparable… totally different things in terms of energy deployment, in terms of engine, thermal engine, in terms of sound, in terms of dimension, in terms of speed.”
The timing of the rebuttal is no accident. For 2026, F1 has moved to a 50/50 split between electrical power and the internal combustion engine. That’s a major philosophical shift from the previous generation, where the hybrid side contributed roughly a fifth of the available power. The electrical output has jumped from 120kW to 350kW, and that one change alone has altered the feel of driving these cars in a way that’s been obvious even through the guarded language you tend to get in February.
Drivers aren’t just “managing” anymore; they’re actively sculpting a lap around harvesting and deployment windows. And yes, that has made some of them twitchy. Max Verstappen’s line about “Formula E on steroids” landed because it speaks to a genuine tension: the new quickest way around can be counterintuitive, with energy tactics sometimes demanding compromises on corner entry or mid-corner commitment.
The technical backdrop matters here. The 2026 rules have simplified the power unit package by removing the heat recovery systems that were heavy, expensive and fiendishly complex. That simplification was designed to reduce cost and complexity, and to lower the barrier for manufacturers. Yet despite “simplifying”, the cars now produce almost three times the electrical energy compared to last year — and they’re feeding a 9MJ battery. That isn’t free performance; it has to be earned, harvested, and then spent at the right time.
Harvesting comes in two main flavours. There’s the obvious one — through braking — and then there’s “clipping”, effectively bleeding power from the combustion engine while you’re flat on the throttle. It’s the second part that’s been at the heart of the complaints, because it creates an odd visual and an even odder sensation: the car is, by design, diverting some ICE output into charging rather than driving the rear wheels. The result is a noticeable dip in top speed towards the end of the straight.
F1’s answer hasn’t been to pretend that dip won’t exist; it’s tried to mask it. The new aerodynamic rules allow the cars to flatten out wings on the straights to trim drag and claw some of that speed back. But aero can’t magic away an energy balance. If the system needs harvesting, it needs harvesting — and that pushes drivers towards lift-and-coast habits that look and feel at odds with the sport’s old “qualifying lap, every lap” myth.
That’s really the debate beneath the Formula E jibes: what does “flat out” mean in modern F1? Purists will argue it’s about attacking corners without hesitation. But F1’s history is littered with eras where managing a limiting factor was the whole game — fuel, brakes, tyres, clutches, even basic reliability. Electrical energy is simply the latest parameter, and one that happens to be more visible to the naked eye because it can change the shape of a straight.
Where Domenicali’s argument has bite is in the way the systems are used and the racing behaviours they create. Formula E has its own rhythm: pacing techniques and series-specific tools like Attack Mode shape how races unfold. F1, by contrast, will allow drivers to charge and discharge strategically within the fight, potentially opening up bigger state-of-charge differentials between rivals — a new kind of gap you can create without clean air or tyre offsets. That’s not “becoming” something else; it’s F1 doing what it always does when the rulebook moves the goalposts: turning engineering constraints into another competitive weapon.
There’s also the unglamorous truth that sits behind all of this. The 2026 framework was built with manufacturers in the room, with an eye on road relevance and the optics of sustainability at a time when the automotive world is still negotiating its relationship with electrification. That doesn’t mean the racing is being sacrificed, but it does mean the regulations are a compromise between what hardcore fans instinctively want and what car companies need to justify spending serious money — even in the cost-cap era.
And F1 has survived that kind of compromise before. The 2014 hybrid switch was met with plenty of grumbling until the sport’s momentum, and the quality of the competition, dragged opinion along. Fuel-flow management became normal. DRS went from “gimmick” to just another part of the scenery. The initial resistance is often less about what the cars are and more about the uncomfortable process of learning a new language of performance.
So no, 2026 doesn’t make F1 a Formula E facsimile. It does make it a different kind of hard — one where the best drivers won’t just be the bravest on the brakes, but the ones who can make peace with the idea that sometimes the quickest way to “push” is to lift. The sport’s identity, as ever, will be defined not by the percentage split on a technical slide, but by how ruthlessly teams and drivers exploit it when it actually counts.
