Mail & Guardian
Mail & Guardian

Formula One tracks of questionable safety

Standards: Kyalami facility issues appear to be less about the asphalt and more about commercial models, risk appetite and politics. Photo: f1.fandom

Formula One has always balanced speed, spectacle and survival.

Some of its most iconic circuits earned their legends not only through thrilling racing but through reputations for danger that forced the sport to evolve.

Tracks with limited run-off, walls close to the racing line, unpredictable weather and inadequate barriers claimed lives and prompted driver protests.

Among the historic examples sit the Nürburgring Nordschleife, Spa-Francorchamps, Imola, Montjuic and Monza. Even newer venues such as the Madring, which debuted for the 2026 Spanish Grand Prix, have drawn pointed criticism over visibility and layout.

Against this backdrop, the continued absence of Kyalami in South Africa, a circuit of high standard that has successfully hosted World Superbikes, raises fair questions about Formula One's priorities.

The Nürburgring, dubbed the "Green Hell" by Jackie Stewart, remains the archetype of a track whose character outstripped its safety.

Measuring more than 22 kilometres with 187 corners during the Gesamtstrecke (1927–1982) era, with vast elevation changes and minimal barriers in the forests of the Eifel, it offered almost no margin.

Stewart later recalled the dread of leaving home for the German Grand Prix, unsure he would return and the near-impossibility of providing adequate marshals or fire cover across such a length.

Niki Lauda was more direct before his near-fatal 1976 crash at Bergwerk. He argued that a mechanical failure elsewhere might give a driver a 70/30 chance of survival, but at the Nürburgring it meant "hundred percent death." After the fiery accident that left him with life-changing burns, the Nordschleife was dropped from the championship.

Stewart's campaign for safety, including earlier boycotts, helped force change, though he received death threats for challenging the status quo.

Spa-Francorchamps has a similarly dark ledger. Its original long layout claimed multiple lives in the 1950s and 1960s. Drivers including Jim Clark developed a strong dislike after fatal weekends.

Even the modern circuit, with its high-speed Eau Rouge/Raidillon complex, has seen tragedies in junior categories in recent years, prompting renewed debate.

Drivers have repeatedly flagged the combination of speed, elevation and weather as inherently high-risk.

Imola's Autodromo Enzo e Dino Ferrari is forever linked to the 1994 San Marino Grand Prix weekend that claimed Roland Ratzenberger and Ayrton Senna.

Earlier accidents and the concrete walls at Tamburello and Villeneuve contributed to its "cursed" reputation; subsequent chicanes and barriers transformed it.

Montjuic in Barcelona, a high-speed street circuit with significant elevation, produced horror in 1975 when a rear-wing failure sent Rolf Stommelen's car into the crowd, killing spectators and officials. Emerson Fittipaldi had already declared the track unfit and left.

Monza, the Temple of Speed, has its own grim history, including the 1961 crash that killed Wolfgang von Trips and 14 spectators. Drivers in later decades, such as David Coulthard, still questioned barrier proximity and gravel traps relative to modern standards.

The Madring, a hybrid street and purpose-built circuit around Madrid's IFEMA complex that replaced Barcelona as host of the Spanish Grand Prix, recently showed that safety and design critiques are not confined to the past.

Its signature feature, the long banked La Monumental corner, delivers spectacle and high speeds, yet the overall layout drew sharp feedback after its debut. Carlos Sainz, serving as circuit ambassador, acknowledged the challenge while raising visibility concerns: the same problems seen at Jeddah and Baku, with cars travelling at 260–270 km/h through sections where sight lines are poor.

"It's definitely eye-opening and definitely makes you question how safe everything is," he said, while noting that street circuits typically evolve and that drivers would suggest changes to the FIA. Lando Norris was blunt about sections of the design, questioning how anyone could approve certain corners and calling for simpler fixes to improve racing.

Max Verstappen expressed a broader preference against street circuits and frustration that drivers are rarely consulted early enough in the design process. The race itself was widely described as processional, with limited overtaking opportunities compounding the sense that spectacle had been prioritised over flow and safety margins.

These examples illustrate a consistent pattern. Drivers have long used their voices and sometimes collective action to demand better.

Stewart's GPDA efforts, Lauda's pre-race warnings and contemporary comments from Sainz, Norris and others form a continuum. The sport has responded with better cars, barriers, medical response and circuit standards, yet new venues still arrive with roads compromised.

This history makes the exclusion of Kyalami particularly puzzling. The Midrand circuit in Johannesburg hosted the South African Grand Prix from the late 1960s until 1985 and returned briefly in 1992–93 after the end of apartheid isolation.

It has undergone successive upgrades. It currently holds FIA Grade 2 certification and has been working towards Grade 1, the level required for Formula One.

World Superbike Championship rounds ran there successfully between 1998 and 2002 and again in 2009 and 2010, drawing strong fields and crowds on a layout praised for its character and challenge. Endurance and other international events have also used the facility.

The circuit's standards are demonstrably high enough for top-level motorcycle racing and other series. The question is why Formula One remains absent.

Organisers and reports point to a combination of commercial, political and logistical factors rather than pure technical inadequacy. After 1993, the cost of hosting proved prohibitive for successive promoters amid currency pressures.

More recent bids in the early 2020s came close: government support, private investment and negotiations with Formula One were advanced, yet collapsed.

Jody Scheckter, South Africa's only world champion, publicly attributed one near-miss to last-minute "greed" by circuit interests who sharply increased financial demands.

Calendar capacity, the preference for multi-year contracts with guaranteed fees and competition from other aspiring venues have also been cited.

Formula One has expressed interest in an African race in principle, yet practical barriers of funding guarantees, political risk perception and scheduling have repeatedly intervened.

Why, then, can Superbikes race successfully at a high-standard venue while Formula One stays away?

The answer appears less about the asphalt and more about commercial models, risk appetite and politics.

Kyalami's facilities and history suggest it could meet technical requirements with further investment. Formula One markets itself as a global championship.

Returning to a track that once stood alongside the greats and that still meets high standards for other elite series would honour both its history and stated ambitions.

Until the commercial and political obstacles are resolved, however, Kyalami remains an absence that highlights the gap between the circuits Formula One once risked and the ones it now chooses.

Lelo Mzaca is an award-winning multitalented journalist, copywriter and presenter of The Big Breakfast Show on Radio 2000. He has an overwhelming passion for sport, lifestyle, music, arts and culture.