# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Former FIA boss Max Mosley has died | Top Gear

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
TG looks back over Mosley's legacy in Formula One and road car safety

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
TG looks back over Mosley's legacy in Formula One and road car safety

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
TG looks back over Mosley's legacy in Formula One and road car safety

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
TG looks back over Mosley's legacy in Formula One and road car safety

# data.attributes.body.value
Max Mosley, best-known in the automotive world for his long-standing presidency of motorsport’s governing body, the FIA, has died at the age of 81. He had been ill for some time but kept his plight private. Together with Formula One’s erstwhile commercial rights holder, Bernie Ecclestone, Mosley helped transform Formula One from a rather ramshackle niche sport into a slick, billion-pound global behemoth. "It’s like losing family, like losing a brother, Max and I," Ecclestone said. "He did a lot of good things not just for motor sport, but also the [car] industry. He was very good in making sure people built cars that were safe."

Mosley might have been a motor racing fan, former driver and team owner, but he was also possessed of a formidable intellect and had a reputation for dealing with adversaries in spectacularly ruthless fashion. His background was as fascinating as it was troubling. He was born on 13 April 1940, the son of Sir Oswald Mosley, leader of the British Union of Fascists, and Diana Freeman-Mitford, the third eldest of the famous Mitford sisters and the most notorious on account of her very public Nazi sympathies. Indeed, the Mosleys were married in Joesph Goebbel’s house in Berlin in 1936, in a ceremony attended by Adolf Hitler.

Max and his elder brother Alexander were separated from their parents while they were incarcerated, but upon their release the family spent much of its time in Europe. Max subsequently studied physics at Christchurch, Oxford, during which time he was president of the Oxford Union, and later qualified as a barrister. It’s often remarked that Mosley would likely have risen to the top of British politics were it not for the toxicity of his surname.

As it was, he found himself entranced by the world of motorsport, first as an impressively talented driver, then as a co-team owner of March Engineering, whose early success saw them finish third in the 1970 constructors’ championship. Mosley sold his stake in 1977 following some difficult years financially and, sensing an opportunity, joined forces with Brabham’s team owner Bernie Ecclestone to form the Formula One Constructors’ Association. This rebel body managed and represented the teams’ interests during negotiations with the sport’s governing body, FISA. Students of F1 will know that the early Eighties were the years in which FOCA battled FISA for the soul of F1, eventually triumphing against the body’s irascible, dictatorial president, Jean-Marie Balestre.

Mosley’s political acumen and quicksilver legal mind led to the formation of the Concorde agreement, the framework by which F1 would operate for the next four decades. It also made all involved enormously wealthy, although Mosley would be routinely accused of prioritising Ecclestone’s interests above those of Formula One. When he became president of the FIA in 1993, the rebel outsider was now the establishment.

There would be numerous controversies, too many to go into here, but suffice to say that the politics of F1 were often as compelling as anything that happened on the track. But it’s also vital to note that Mosley was a prime mover in overhauling F1’s safety standards following the deaths of Ayrton Senna and Roland Ratzenberger at Imola in 1994. He also used all of his guile to help the sport pivot away from the big money tobacco sponsorship years, and acknowledged that spiralling costs needed to be urgently brought under control. He was also instumental in the arrival of Euro NCAP (European New Car Assessment Programme] in a bid to improve safety standards in the automotive industry. Indeed, this may well be his greatest legacy.

It’s fair to say that Max Mosley wasn’t what you would call a ‘people person’. He had fierce run-ins with most of F1’s team principals, and made unpleasant public proclamations about the likes of Sir Jackie Stewart and Ron Dennis. He was also not a man to cross. When the News of the World splashed lurid details about his private life all over its front page in 2008, the immediate aftermath would have had most public figures burying their heads in shame. Instead, Mosley doubled down and sued the newspaper for invasion of privacy, winning £60,000 in damages and £450,000 in legal costs. He expressed remorse for the effect the revelations had on his wife Jean, but remained unrepentant about his sexual pecadilloes. As a result, he also became one of the highest profile figures associated with the Hacked Off pressure group, which led to the establishing of the Leveson inquiry into the behaviour of the press in the wake of the phone-hacking scandal. Here was another hugely significant legacy.

He will be remembered, of course, as one of the towering figures of motorsport during his reign at the FIA. Not a man who suffered fools gladly, it often seemed like Mosley was toying with those who couldn’t match his intellect. Perhaps he felt that his greatest ambition had been thwarted. But his contribution to improving the safety both of Formula One and modern road cars is incalculable. TG.com sends its condolences to his wife Jean and son Patrick.

# data.attributes.body.processed
Max Mosley, best-known in the automotive world for his long-standing presidency of motorsport’s governing body, the FIA, has died at the age of 81. He had been ill for some time but kept his plight private. Together with Formula One’s erstwhile commercial rights holder, Bernie Ecclestone, Mosley helped transform Formula One from a rather ramshackle niche sport into a slick, billion-pound global behemoth. "It’s like losing family, like losing a brother, Max and I," Ecclestone said. "He did a lot of good things not just for motor sport, but also the [car] industry. He was very good in making sure people built cars that were safe."

Mosley might have been a motor racing fan, former driver and team owner, but he was also possessed of a formidable intellect and had a reputation for dealing with adversaries in spectacularly ruthless fashion. His background was as fascinating as it was troubling. He was born on 13 April 1940, the son of Sir Oswald Mosley, leader of the British Union of Fascists, and Diana Freeman-Mitford, the third eldest of the famous Mitford sisters and the most notorious on account of her very public Nazi sympathies. Indeed, the Mosleys were married in Joesph Goebbel’s house in Berlin in 1936, in a ceremony attended by Adolf Hitler.

Max and his elder brother Alexander were separated from their parents while they were incarcerated, but upon their release the family spent much of its time in Europe. Max subsequently studied physics at Christchurch, Oxford, during which time he was president of the Oxford Union, and later qualified as a barrister. It’s often remarked that Mosley would likely have risen to the top of British politics were it not for the toxicity of his surname.

As it was, he found himself entranced by the world of motorsport, first as an impressively talented driver, then as a co-team owner of March Engineering, whose early success saw them finish third in the 1970 constructors’ championship. Mosley sold his stake in 1977 following some difficult years financially and, sensing an opportunity, joined forces with Brabham’s team owner Bernie Ecclestone to form the Formula One Constructors’ Association. This rebel body managed and represented the teams’ interests during negotiations with the sport’s governing body, FISA. Students of F1 will know that the early Eighties were the years in which FOCA battled FISA for the soul of F1, eventually triumphing against the body’s irascible, dictatorial president, Jean-Marie Balestre.

Mosley’s political acumen and quicksilver legal mind led to the formation of the Concorde agreement, the framework by which F1 would operate for the next four decades. It also made all involved enormously wealthy, although Mosley would be routinely accused of prioritising Ecclestone’s interests above those of Formula One. When he became president of the FIA in 1993, the rebel outsider was now the establishment.

There would be numerous controversies, too many to go into here, but suffice to say that the politics of F1 were often as compelling as anything that happened on the track. But it’s also vital to note that Mosley was a prime mover in overhauling F1’s safety standards following the deaths of Ayrton Senna and Roland Ratzenberger at Imola in 1994. He also used all of his guile to help the sport pivot away from the big money tobacco sponsorship years, and acknowledged that spiralling costs needed to be urgently brought under control. He was also instumental in the arrival of Euro NCAP (European New Car Assessment Programme] in a bid to improve safety standards in the automotive industry. Indeed, this may well be his greatest legacy.

It’s fair to say that Max Mosley wasn’t what you would call a ‘people person’. He had fierce run-ins with most of F1’s team principals, and made unpleasant public proclamations about the likes of Sir Jackie Stewart and Ron Dennis. He was also not a man to cross. When the News of the World splashed lurid details about his private life all over its front page in 2008, the immediate aftermath would have had most public figures burying their heads in shame. Instead, Mosley doubled down and sued the newspaper for invasion of privacy, winning £60,000 in damages and £450,000 in legal costs. He expressed remorse for the effect the revelations had on his wife Jean, but remained unrepentant about his sexual pecadilloes. As a result, he also became one of the highest profile figures associated with the Hacked Off pressure group, which led to the establishing of the Leveson inquiry into the behaviour of the press in the wake of the phone-hacking scandal. Here was another hugely significant legacy.

He will be remembered, of course, as one of the towering figures of motorsport during his reign at the FIA. Not a man who suffered fools gladly, it often seemed like Mosley was toying with those who couldn’t match his intellect. Perhaps he felt that his greatest ambition had been thwarted. But his contribution to improving the safety both of Formula One and modern road cars is incalculable. TG.com sends its condolences to his wife Jean and son Patrick.

# data.attributes.field_standfirst
TG looks back over Mosley's legacy in Formula One and road car safety