The world of Formula 1 is accustomed to drama, but it is rare for the president of its most iconic team to launch a direct, public, and utterly scathing attack on his own superstar drivers. Yet, this is precisely what transpired following the most recent Grand Prix, when Ferrari President John Elkann released a statement that sent shockwaves through the paddock, tearing the veneer of unity at Maranello and turning the spotlight onto a startling internal conflict.
In an unprecedented move, Elkann called out both Charles Leclerc and the team’s newest high-profile signing, Lewis Hamilton, for their perceived failings. While praising the mechanics and engineers, the brunt of the criticism was reserved for the men behind the wheel, encapsulated in his blunt mandate: the drivers “need to focus more and talk less.”
The most recent race, which resulted in a double DNF for the Scuderia, was described by Elkann as a “huge disappointment.” The president’s attempt to triage the situation was highly selective. He claimed the team’s mechanics were “effectively winning the championship” due to their pit stop performance and that the engineers had successfully improved the car. However, when he arrived at the drivers, his tone turned icy: “If we look at the rest, it is not up to standard. We have drivers who need to focus more and talk less because we still have several important races to come… we need drivers who think more about Ferrari and less about themselves.”
This was a bizarre, almost unprovoked public shaming, and it immediately drew a defensive, yet calculated, response from the criticized drivers. Both Hamilton and Leclerc took to their social media platforms, not to directly challenge the president—a political impossibility within the rigid structures of Ferrari—but to deliver a subtle, unified rebuttal. Hamilton posted a statement of absolute resolve: “I back my team, I back myself, I will not give up not now not then not ever thank you always.” Leclerc, whose post-race remarks often lean towards corporate compliance, referenced the very concept of “unity” in his statement, echoing the president’s own language but reclaiming it as a driver-led commitment to the team, rather than a top-down demand. The posts served as a clear, digital jab, demonstrating that the president’s words had not only been heard but were also being internally debated.
The Misplaced Blame and the Pit Stop Paradox
The catalyst for this executive explosion was, of course, the disastrous Grand Prix event. Ferrari entered the weekend fighting for a critical second place in the Constructors’ Championship but left in fourth after a double non-score. Leclerc was the first casualty, retired after what was deemed a racing incident involving other cars. Hamilton’s race was marred by an early, sloppy collision and subsequent front wing damage, which ruined his car’s floor and ultimately led to his retirement. The race was undeniably a setback, proving just how quickly fortunes can swing in the close Constructors’ battle.
Yet, many observers and analysts argue that Elkann’s focus is entirely misplaced. His decision to highlight the success of the pit crew as a source of pride became an immediate target for skepticism. The president lauded the mechanics for their consistency and their dominance in the DHL rankings. While impressive, this consistency has been achieved in an environment devoid of title pressure. When a team is not fighting wheel-to-wheel for the championship, the psychological pressure that can lead to operational errors—like those that plagued Ferrari in the past—is significantly diminished. Furthermore, for a team of Ferrari’s stature, excellence in pit stops should be a baseline expectation, not a point of strategic celebration used to deflect attention from deeper issues. In fact, to champion this success while simultaneously attacking the drivers for the car’s general underperformance feels contradictory, almost like taking credit away from the team’s most crucial human element.
The Car Conundrum and the Illusion of Progress
This leads to the second major point of confusion in Elkann’s decree: his praise for the engineers for successfully improving the car over the course of the season. While factual—the car has seen development—the analysis behind this statement is highly misleading. Ferrari’s current season began from such a low bar that any improvement was inevitable. More critically, the team has pushed development far later and harder than many competitors, such as McLaren or Williams, who strategically halted their car upgrades to focus resources entirely on the upcoming regulations. Ferrari, conversely, has continued to develop not because their plan was superior, but because they are still grappling with a fundamental lack of knowledge about why their car was so poor to begin with.
The result is staggering: despite developing the car heavily, the team is still behind rivals on consistency and, at circuits like São Paulo, was potentially slower than a young driver in the rival Mercedes car. To credit the engineering division so effusively for achieving mediocrity, while aggressively attacking the drivers, represents a strategic disconnect at the highest level of the company.
Why the ‘Talk Less’ Mandate Fails
However, the most egregious part of the statement remains the demand for the world-class drivers to “talk less.” The history of Ferrari over the recent era is littered with the names of legendary drivers—Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen (their last champion), Sebastian Vettel, Carlos Sainz, Charles Leclerc, and now Lewis Hamilton—all phenomenal talents. At no point during this troubled period has the driver been the core issue. The problems have invariably stemmed from strategy, operational mistakes, and, fundamentally, car performance.
Elkann’s confusion over what specific criticism he is reacting to only adds to the perceived hypocrisy. Hamilton’s previous remarks were largely aimed at his own performance, and while rumors about Leclerc scouting other options surface occasionally, the drivers have been remarkably restrained and aware of the political pressure cooker that is Maranello. They have been careful to uphold the façade of unity, even when the car’s shortcomings were frustratingly apparent.
By publicly demanding that his biggest stars—arguably the team’s greatest assets—to “shut up and drive,” Elkann is not inspiring performance; he is piling on excessive political pressure during what is already one of Ferrari’s most disappointing seasons in living memory.
Ultimately, the president’s bizarre attack feels like an attempt to project his own disappointment and frustration onto the most visible and least protected figures in the team. He is focusing his anger and attention on the wrong problems, crediting the engineers for being “mediocre” and attacking the drivers for what is, in reality, a fundamental failure to nail the ground effect era of regulations. The statement is confusing, contradictory, and entirely mistimed, threatening to destabilize the team just as it needs cohesion to fight for the final remaining positions in the championship. If Elkann genuinely seeks a path back to the top of F1, the answer is not in silencing his drivers, but in giving them a car that can finally allow their undeniable talent to do the talking.