In 1987 and 1988, F1 ran two engine formulas side by side as a managed exit from the turbo era, and the lesson it offers the present day is not the one the critics might hope for
The 1988 season had both turbo and naturally-aspirated engines on the grid
Formula 1 has spent the better part of the year listening to complaints about its 2026 technical regulations, particularly around the power unit philosophy and all the complications with it and its 50/50 split between electrical and combustion power.
Many of those criticisms have merit. Some are overstated. None of them is likely to change much. The regulations are pretty much locked. The manufacturers have spent hundreds of millions building to them, and what many consider bugs are in reality features that were part of the regulatory framework long before the cars took to the track in public for the first time.
The sport’s bosses may tweak the rules slightly, but fans and drivers will have to adapt and move on.
Experts have offered all types of possible ‘fixes’ to F1’s current issues, from obvious ones to left-field ideas.
Among them, a particular idea has resurfaced: if F1 needs to please the car manufacturers with its hybrid regulations, why not allow an alternative formula to run alongside the prescribed one?
Let teams and manufacturers choose their own technical path, compete under a unified sporting framework but divergent engineering philosophies, and let the best solution win.
It sounds, in theory, like a liberating proposal. In practice, however, Formula 1 already tried it and the results were far from encouraging.
A two-tier series
Between 1987 and 1988, Formula 1 ran two engine formulas simultaneously. It was not a grand philosophical experiment but a managed retreat: the FIA’s attempt to wind down the turbo era gracefully while nurturing its successor.
Turbo engines were still the way to go in 1987
Grand Prix Photo
The turbocharged 1.5-litre formula that had dominated since Renault’s pioneering efforts in the late 1970s had, by the mid-1980s, produced power outputs that were becoming genuinely alarming.
In qualifying trim, the most extreme engines were producing something in excess of 1,000bhp from an engine barely larger than a modern road car’s and without many of the safety measures currently protecting drivers.
The FIA had concluded that the escalating power of the turbocharged engine was getting out of hand, and needed to find a way of bringing power down to more sane levels without alienating the car manufacturers who had recently brought unprecedented wealth to the series.
The solution was a phased withdrawal.
A glide-path was set out that would progressively neuter the turbos, ready for the blanket standardisation in 1989 of the normally-aspirated 3.5-litre motors that were permitted alongside the turbos from 1987.
The dual formula was therefore not a permanent settlement but a transition mechanism, a device to give teams time to prepare, amortise existing turbo investment, and move predictably toward a single, standardised formula.
In 1987, the turbo boost pressure was limited to 4 bar while the naturally-aspirated cars could use engines of up to 3.5 litres with no fuel restriction. The turbo runners were limited to 195 litres per race.
To give the NA runners some symbolic recognition, the FIA created two supplementary championships contested solely by naturally-aspirated runners: the Jim Clark Trophy for drivers and the Colin Chapman Trophy for constructors.
The intention was to give the underdogs their own scoreboard, encourage investment in the new formula, and signal where things were headed.
The press was largely unimpressed, frequently referring to the naturally-aspirated runners as “Group B”. Jonathan Palmer won the Jim Clark Trophy driving for Tyrrell, but almost nobody noticed.
The NA engines ran at the back of the field. Here, Palmer in the Tyrrell-Ford at Monza in 1987
Grand Prix Photo
The fundamental problem was that equivalent performance between two radically different power unit philosophies could not be legislated into existence with any precision.
The turbos were still enormously powerful even under restriction, and the NA field was operating off essentially customer Cosworth architecture. The only naturally-aspirated engine in 1987 was the DFV-derived Ford-Cosworth DFZ 3.5-litre V8, producing around 575bhp. The turbo runners, even in their constrained state, were delivering considerably more.
Williams‘ Honda-powered cars won both championships as the dual formula had produced one class that competed for wins and another that competed against itself.
For 1988, the restrictions tightened even more. The boost limit was reduced to 2.5 bar, and the fuel allowance for turbo engines fell to 150 litres, while naturally-aspirated runners continued to carry and use unlimited fuel.
The explicit intention was to compress the performance gap so significantly that the transitional year would effectively serve as a preview of the new order, or at least something resembling a competition.
When initially announced, it was believed the restrictions would be so prohibitive as to render the turbo uncompetitive and bring the naturally-aspirated era in one year early.
Honda had other ideas, however. The Japanese manufacturer looked at what was possible for its turbo V6 within the tight restrictions and it decided it could still be competitive.
The result was the RA168E, an engine that used the severe fuel and boost constraints as an engineering brief rather than an obstacle. It achieved around 30% thermal efficiency, well ahead of the competition, and began the year with 640bhp in race trim, rising to 685bhp by season’s end, with over 700bhp available in qualifying.
Ferrari also stayed with turbos, modifying its 1987 unit with revised combustion chambers, though with less dramatic gains.
The outcome was the most one-sided season in Formula 1 history at the time.
Four teams gambled on switching to naturally-aspirated power early, hoping to gain a development head-start ahead of the mandatory NA formula in 1989. Williams, having moved to Judd engines after losing Honda, went from constructors’ champion to also-ran in a single winter.
The dual formula had not created a competitive spectacle. As a transition mechanism, it worked, as the grid was broadly prepared for 1989, and the entry list expanded considerably once the turbo complexity was stripped away, but as a framework for competitive racing, it was a study in the difficulty of equivalency.
It showed that you can’t write a regulation that makes two fundamentally different technologies equal without one of them finding the gaps.
An unrealistic option
Which brings us back to the present…
The appeal of a dual formula today is understandable, particularly when one side (drivers and fans) wants something completely different to the other (manufacturers and powers-that-be).
It’s a simple argument: If the sport finds the 2026 regulations unworkable, why not allow a simpler alternative, perhaps a normally-aspirated or less hybridised unit, to compete alongside them?
The current rules are unlikely to change anytime soon
Grand Prix Photo
The answer is that the conditions that make such a thing viable barely exist.
The 1987-88 dual formula succeeded administratively because it had a fixed endpoint: everyone knew the turbos were going in 1989, and the whole exercise was about getting there in good order.
F1 will head into unchartered territory with its complex 2026 engines – we look back at previous power unit oddities
A dual formula today would not have the same end goal.
It would require the FIA to manage two sets of regulations indefinitely, manufacturers to decide which way to go, and sporting governance to adjudicate on equivalency arguments that would make the current power unit debate look tidy.
More fundamentally, the current manufacturers have committed enormous sums to the 2026 power unit formula. They are not going to welcome a rival architecture that might expose their investment as overcomplicated.
No commercial agreement, no manufacturer coalition, no FIA working group is likely to produce a dual formula from a standing start with the current grid already in service. The politics alone would be paralysing.
What the 1987-88 experience actually demonstrates is not that dual formulas can work, but that they work only under very specific conditions: when there is consensus about the destination, when one formula is in managed decline and the other is the agreed future, and when the governing body retains firm control of the timeline.
None of those conditions applies to Formula 1 in 2026. The regulations will stay. The complaints will continue. And, if the racing improves, the whole debate will seem, in a few years, like background noise.
