Legacy Car Brands Are Losing Their Identity - Volvo, JLR, Audi: do we care who makes them anymore?

When you buy a Volvo, how much Volvo do you expect to get? OK, I know, it sounds like a ridiculous question, but think about it. You walk into a Volvo showroom, you buy a car with Volvo written on it and assume the people behind that badge have decided how it should work, how it should drive, and how it should protect your family. Well, the question stems from Volvo's latest announcement. They're going to introduce 13 new models by the end of 2030 with different development strategies for China and Western markets. And not all are going to be entirely designed and built by the Swedish company themselves. So, one badge and increasingly different cars. But are they still actually Volvos? You see, if the engineering underneath your next car comes from somewhere else, how much extra are you prepared to pay for basically only the badge on the bonnet? And it's not just Volvo doing this sort of thing. It's happening throughout the car industry. Audi, Land Rover and others, they're doing the same sort of thing. Now, Volvo matters because it stood for something remarkably clear. Safety, solidity and sensible decisions. An old Volvo estate looked as though it had been designed by someone that expected you to survive the apocalypse, transport a wardrobe and keep the car until your grandchildren were ready to inherit it. You had an expectation of the engineering philosophy behind it. You believed it was consistent with the core ethos of the brand because it's the same engineering tradition that designed, developed and constructed those old Volvo 240 tanks, created the new cars. And that expectation has value, even for people who have never opened a bonnet in their lives. Right, let's get into all of that right after this. So, here's the news. Volvo plans 13 new models by the end of 2030. Seven aimed at Western markets and six for China. The Western programme centres on Volvo's SPA2 and SPA3 architectures, which underpin electric cars like the EX90 and EX60, respectively. But the Chinese programme involves closer development with its parent group, Geely. The question, of course, is whether a Volvo that is developed for China still embodies the same priorities as one that is developed for Europe. I mean, they're basically a Geely with a Volvo badge on it. I mean, nothing wrong with a Geely, but they're not Volvos, are they? Well, technically, I suppose they are, because they own Volvo and Polestar. Still, though, we kind of need to see what the cars are and understand Volvo's contribution. But you can't help asking the question, can you? Is it still actually a Volvo? Imagine buying two products from a company you trust and discovering that the foundations were developed by different teams with different starting points. You would want reassurance that someone had applied some sort of similar standards to both of them. There's a perfectly understandable business case, of course. Developing cars is expensive. Developing batteries, software, electronics and new platforms at the same time is enormously expensive. So shared technology can reduce costs and speed up development. Admittedly, this gives buyers more choice and it could give them a better car for less money. And this isn't new. This sort of badge engineering has been going on for a very long time. The Triumph Acclaim was a Honda Belaid. The Rover 800 was a Honda Legend. The first Honda Crossroad was actually a Land Rover Discovery complete with a Rover V8 engine. The Hindustan Ambassador was a Morris Oxford. The Lada Riva was a Fiat 124. GM's Geo Tracker was a first generation Suzuki Vitara. Chrysler rebadged Mitsubishi Galant and Eclipses. And later the Chrysler Crossfire was a Mercedes SLK. The last of the Saabs were mostly Vauxhall Vectras, talking of which, the Chevrolet Cavalier were once sold with Toyota badges on them. Imagine how disappointing that would have been for previous Toyota owners. But then in the late 2000s, the Pontiac Vibe was really just a Corolla. Oh, and the less said about the Alfa Romeo Arna, the better. So yeah, we have been here before and some of these arrangements were pretty cynical too. But something feels different now. Previously, it felt like whatever the tie-ups and the missteps, there was a kind of curation of the brand that still kept things credible and legitimate. Now it feels more like a wholesale betrayal of brand values. And then you have to wonder, what does the brand or badge even stand for anymore? And you as a customer, you have to ponder, what does it mean for you? Take Audi, for example. Like the BMW Propeller and the Mercedes 3-pointed star, there's a certain pride and cachet that you take from having something with four rings that is parked on your driveway. But what if your Audi didn't have those anymore? And in fact, in China, a Chinese-focused Audi brand is using the Audi name in capital letters, but without the four rings. The Chinese-only Audi E5 Sportback sits on an EV platform jointly developed with SCIAC. To you and me here in the UK, that actually means that it's basically an MGI M5 underneath. Admittedly, it's one of the best new EVs that I've reviewed recently. And in the review, you'll see that I did compare with a Porsche Taycan. Interesting that, because follow the links. The MGI M5 is a SCIAC IML6 jointly developed by Audi, and also wears the Audi E5 badge in China. And of course, Audi makes the e-tron GT, which is basically the same car as a Porsche Taycan. So when I said that with the MGI M5, you're basically getting a Porsche Taycan for half the I wasn't that far off the mark, was I? Audi says it brings its own expertise and driving character to the collaboration. But Audi has spent decades selling us the idea of Vorsprung der Technik, advancement through technology. When the technology becomes a joint effort with another manufacturer, how much of that, however, is still actually Audi technology? And are those people who are buying an Audi without the four rings still getting an Audi? And then we come to Freelander. Now you're immediately thinking Land Rover, Freelander, the model that was killed off just over a decade ago. Well, yes, Jaguar Land Rover now has an agreement with Cherry in China to revive the Freelander through their Chinese joint venture using Cherry's vehicle architecture. Think about that. It's basically a Cherry with a Freelander badge that is supposed to make people feel like they're kind of buying a Land Rover. But that name arrives with expectations. People remember Land Rover family connections, an outdoorsy character, and the idea that you could venture beyond the last neatly surfaced road without worry. When that heritage helps sell a new vehicle, how much of the original promise should still come with it? What capability, testing and engineering input does the name guarantee? Then there's the reported Defender pickup being explored through JLR's relationship with Stellantis in America. The reporting raises the possibility of US production, with obvious commercial attractions in serving that market locally. You'd argue that they kind of have to do this because of tariff impositions and America being such an important market to the Land Rover brand. But get this. The proposed pickup's platform and powertrains remain unclear, and the speculation is that it will be based on a Ram or Jeep. Now, I guess at least that would mean that whatever the vehicle is, it will remain excellent off-road, rugged and capable. I would also argue that it would probably be more reliable than a Land Rover 2, considerably so. And if it were based on a Jeep, the vehicle would be dripping more with irony than mud, considering that the very first Land Rover was basically a copy of the original Willys Jeep. Nonetheless, would it still be a Defender? Would it still be a Land Rover, for that matter? What good is a Land Rover if you don't end up, mid-adventure, lying on your back underneath it, trying to fix it with a hammer, and praying to God that the bloody thing will just get you home? And that brings us to the distinction manufacturers ought to explain much more clearly. How much responsibility do they retain in these joint ventures? A car company can buy components, share a platform, and still take serious responsibility for the finished vehicle. It can specify the structure, tune the chassis, validate the safety systems and insist on its own durability standards. Alternatively, imagine a company gradually handing over more and more of those decisions while contributing only to the styling and the advertising. The engineering connection could become progressively thinner. A famous and trusted mark could increasingly become dependent on someone else for the expertise that the customer assumed belonged to that original badge. When it comes to Chinese companies, it could be argued that they're merely hijacking these beloved brands, under license of course, to give their own products instant credibility and hence desirability. Because for all of their growth and investment and technology and advancements and huge market successes that they've already had, these two qualities are still things that they don't necessarily have. Check out Brown Car Guys' latest novel, Silent Ruin. Action, adventure, spies, betrayal, romance, plus of course cool cars and car chases, it's got the lot. And don't forget how to be an automotive content creator. The Ulez Files and Quantum Races, all Brown Car Guys books are available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited. And here's something that those legacy brands happy to farm out those badges should keep in mind. Once they've lost the team and the expertise to design, develop and build brand new cars because they've asked other people to do them, how easy is it to get that back? If loyal owners get into a car and find it completely unfamiliar and alien to their expectations, this for a brand that they've always relied upon, well, a century of heritage provides limited comfort for the frustration that will leave them annoyed, particularly when you're three menus deep, just trying to adjust the wing mirrors. Buyers will want to know, does the car delivers the qualities that they associate with that badge? Has the manufacturer taken responsibility for making it work and feel just as you would expect it to? Does the price reflect what you actually receive? And will the support still be there three years after the ad campaign has been forgotten? Look, I'm happy for brands to evolve. We all want better cars, better value and meaningful choice. But I think it's also fair for us to ask manufacturers to explain what they contribute to the actual product when they ask us to pay a premium for their logo. Heritage takes generations to build and every new car should strengthen that trust. And if it doesn't, then it ends up eroding it. Now, you tell me, how much of all of this really matters to you? Does it really matter what badge the car wears if you're getting what you need, the latest tech, the latest kit, and you're getting all of that at an affordable price? Or would you be happy to pay a premium for a brand even if the product doesn't really feel true to its heritage? Does any of this matter? Will the entire car industry eventually just incorporate into one amorphous, meaningless mass of a motorized banality? Or does anyone care? I look forward to hearing your comments and I'll catch you in the next one. And make sure you're subscribing!