It’s time for a bit of sweeping generalisation. Let me sweepingly generalise about French cars.
You’ll have to forgive the broad brushstrokes here. That’s how I like to start before thinking about the curlicues and details that put nuances on a rough outline. France’s automotive values emerged from the soup of French culture. That is itself a richly complex thing which has attracted the attention of the rest of the world for as long as wine, olives, cheese and berets have been cultivated in the mosaic of terroirs that make up the nation.
Renault, Citroen and Peugeot are the remaining inheritors of an automotive tradition that included Panhard, Simca, Marot-Gardon, Amilcar, Alcyon and scores of others. In recent decades the specific cultural values of French cars have become muted but they are still there: a certain view of economy and lightness, of artistic expression and democracy. We can see these values more clearly if we wind the clock back to the post-war years where a blend of Modernism and a wish to democratise transport gave rise to the 2CV, a cheap and serviceable vehicle suited to uneven roads and a predominantly agricultural way of life.
Renault offered the 4CV which suited the same sorts of customers that bought Morris Minors and Beetles in Britain and Germany respectively. While the 4CV ceased production in 1961, the 2CV carried on into the 90s, embodying low-budget chic. Renault offered the 4 as a more modern alternative. Peugeot, always more bourgeois, addressed the needs of more affluent buyers with their 203 and didn’t really provide a cheap small car until the 104 of the 70s. That part of their values is still alive and quite well.
For the most part, French cars have been quite middle class. Bugatti briefly shone but there have been few cars analogous to Jaguar, Ferrari or Porsche or Rolls. The notable exception was the DS which emerged from the same stables as its polar opposite, the 2CV. It did adhere to Citroen’s company values of technical daring and stylistic flair. Renault and Peugeot in contrast tended to offer more restrained designs. And this cleavage is quite interesting because both modesty and flair are characteristic French values even if they appear at different times and among different people. The flair gives us artistically-considered meals, works of artistic merit and landmarks such as the Eifel Tower; in later years I would consider the TGV to be a mix of technical daring and engineering diligence, both making a statement about national capability but also being democratic in its intent. The modesty gives a reserve about ostentation, it gives us the quiet good taste of Charvet and dark, blue Dior suits.
The democtratic ideal has also had a downside. Surely it was wish for a certain equality that legislators exterminated the large-engined car through their tax codes. Good perhaps for the soul of the working man but in the long run this has denied France the capability to match the engineering feats of Italy, Britain and Germany. The astonishing DS laboured with an antediluvian and under-powered four-cylinder engine unworthy of the rest of the car. Our old friend the 604, so close to greatness, made do with a shared V6 of questionable virtue. Renault’s large cars have never had enjoyed the prestige of comparable German and British cars, in part because their engines have never been quite so good. Jaguar engines might have been ropey but when they worked, they were fast.
The French taste for modernity and economy has also, in my view, undermined the ability of their firms to provide cars of enduring robustness. It might be practical to say nobody expects a car to endure but the perception of frailty has been gnawing away at customer’s minds for decades. Nothing so much as the whiff of unreliablity really finished the 604 as a competitor in the large-car class which is such a pity as it had so many fine attributes. All those Renault 4s have dissolved while the somewhat leaden and lumbering Beetle is still a common sight. Nobody keeps Lagunas the way people keep Cortinas and 316s. The Renault 30, 25, Safrane and Vel Satis all fell victim to perceptions of unsufficient status. It turns out that the world at large does not want overt modernism of the French sort – and that is not something I applaud.
And so we find ourselves in the present day where the Espace is doing service in the role of the taxi in my part of the world; Citroen’s largest car is not fit for Presidential duty (though it was used in such a role, unhappily) and Peugeot’s largest car is in the repmobile class, a long way from even from the sober, seriousness of the 505, 605 and 607.
Whither France, one might ask? That is not really a question for automotive thinkers but sociologists, historians and economists. I would argue that France needs a new vision of modernism backed up by the attention to detail that is now expected at all levels of automotive production. Why this has yet to emerge is an open question. Until it is resolved, we may find interesting small cars, and refreshing mid-sizers but the standard-bearers of French automotive culture will not emerge until it is answered.
Driven To Write 
Learnt to drive in my mum’s Renault 4 (1986 gtl with the large (by R4 standards) 1.1 litre) . I have never experienced such body roll since but it was nippy and quite fun to drive. The peugeot 205 embodies all that Frenchness also I feel. It still looks great too. I don’t feel so optimistic for their future now as you do Richard. Peugeot’s current tag line “affordable quality” doesn’t convince me, even when uttered in a sexy French accent.
I didn´t mean to sound optimistic.
The long-travel suspension was a characteristic required for lumpy roads with smooth surfaces. I had a 205 and it had a super ride quality and was a hoot. It was also dirt cheap. Recently I sat in one and it still feels credible as well. The seating is an aspect of French cars that stood out. Apart from being incredibly bland, the last Xsara I drove had wonderful seats. More recent French cars I have tried have been more Euronormal. Goodness, but what a retrograde step that is.
I’ve owned a Xsara for a couple of years (a Coupé – re the 3-door piece) and grew quite fond of it’s overall solidity (sic!), practicality, nice steering, agile drive… But, apart from the underwhelming styling, the seats truly were the worst part. The velours was nice, but on long distance travel the lack of lumbar support and the wobbly and fast-wearing upholstery was just terrible.
French car companies (including Nissan and Dacia) are very successful in building SUV´s. Qashqai, Kadjar, Duster, Juke, 2008 and 3008 are in the right place at the right time.
But i am not convinced that this success will last for a long time. As soon as Volkswagen (Seat, Skoda) and Hyundai/Kia will enter the small SUV segment, the party will be over.
Because PSA just doesn´t understand the market. They are offering a Mitsubishi ASX with a french badge and a high price-tag. What a nonsense!
And at the same time, they already have a car like this in South America – why not in Europe?
The small SUV segment is the fastest growing segment in Europe – why not offer a DS in this segment ? Ask PSA.
Marcus, what is in the picture here? Is it a concept, a production model, or some kind of ‘scoop’ illustration? I like the frontal aspect – the integration of the ‘lamps with the grille/ bright work.
It is the brasilian C3 Aircross – after the facelift 2015.
To repeat something we’ve said several times here, French companies still get the sales, but they’ve lost brand loyalty, and deservedly so. As Markus says, most DS3, 508 and Kadjar owners will just look around at whatever else is hot in the market the next time they change.
A perceptive piece, by the way, Richard.
I broadly agree with the analysis, and the sentiment.
One thing I would like to rectify though (other than the spelling of Eiffel’s name) is that manufacturers like Delahaye, Delage, Voisin and even Renault would have been competitors of Rolls-Royce in the first half of the twentieth century, which in turn highlights the chastening effect of WWII, and the industrial policy of the post-war era.
Certainly even more than Germany and the UK, the Pons Plan changed the French auto industry radically. In some cases manufacturers who had been fatally damaged by the Depression, just stumbled on the the start of the War to, nominally, end their lives shortly after – but it would have happened without Hitler or Pons anyway. But, before the War, France had the most varied and interesting group of luxury cars anywhere.
Excellent piece Richard. As a previous automotive Francophile I am saddened at the descent in to mass market mediocrity of the french car industry. In the past Car magazine was full of praise for french cars and their innovative design; obviously the DS but also the Renault 16, the Renaults 4 & 5, the Citroën GS and Espace. Peugeot had a reputation of durability with the 504 and 505 and Gordinis and Alpines were at the forefront of rallying. Obviously the great question, to which I have no answer, is “Where did it all go wrong?”
We have owned an R4, 104, 305 and 505 estate but I would never think of looking at Renault, Peugeot or Citroën for my next car. I think it is probably the discrepancy between the blandness of the product and the excitement suggested in the advertisng that puts me off. Perhaps they have all become petit bourgeois.
In a way Barry, surely they always were bourgeois, but in the most positive way, putting comfort and function before fashion. Now, looking at Renault and DS, certainly, I’d say they were aspirational – actually not even that, they are faux-aspirational if that makes sense.
you lost me at french because I don’t want to hear anything about crap I don’t know anything about!
You.
Maybe not only France but modernity itself needs a new vision of modernism…