Essay: Executive Extinction?

Granada, Omega, Vel Satis, 9-5, Thema, Xedos 9 and SD1. Defunct nameplates from the once thriving ‘executive’ car class, otherwise known as the ‘European E-segment’, and analogous to the ‘mid-sized luxury car’ designation in North America.

Formerly the default choice for those who enjoyed their motoring with an added dose of comfort, prestige and company car-park bragging rights, the executive car sector has long since been vacated by mainstream manufacturers such as Ford (whose Granada was once a top-ten best seller in the UK) and Opel/Vauxhall – along with numerous French, Japanese and Italian brands.

This has allowed the German ‘big three’ (5-Series, E-Class, A6) to reign supreme in the European arena, with Volvo (S90/V90) and Jaguar (XF) providing ‘left-field’ choices while the remaining participants (Lexus, Infiniti, Maserati) are left to pick up the scraps.

This Teutonic takeover can be attributed to a number of factors; higher levels of actual and perceived quality, greater ‘snob value’ (the big three are not ‘tainted’ by association with ‘cheap and cheerful’ economy cars in the way that mainstream brands are), superior marketing and the popularity of leasing as a method of acquisition (meaning residual values take precedent over list price in determining overall running costs).

However, with the E-segment now accounting for just 3% of total European car sales, it appears that not only are non-German executive cars (such as the S90 above) deeply unfashionable, but the template itself is beginning to lose its lustre.

The ever-increasing size and weight of cars in all classes has to be playing a part in this, since those in ‘lesser’ segments have become larger and more refined, thus encroaching on territory once occupied solely by the executive class.

BMW’s new M2 versus its oldest M3 (photo by Johnathan Harper)

This forces the remaining executives to grow to mammoth proportions just to retain differentiation… at which point the added prestige and refinement on offer is somewhat offset by their inability to squeeze into parking spaces.

Take Opel’s just-launched Insignia (D-segment) whose 4897mm length is a mere millimetre shy of the late-’90s Omega B2, Opel’s last attempt at an executive car. Were the Omega to exist today, it would need to be significantly larger…

In fact, it seems that over the last few decades, cars in each of the traditional European market segments have grown enough to displace those in the segment above. Today’s superminis (B-segment) are as large as yesterday’s small family cars (C-segment), which in turn have expanded to previously D-segment proportions. The D-segment has thus inflated accordingly and forced the E-segment to swell in size as well.

This perhaps explains why today’s executive car class closely resembles the full-size luxury class (F-segment) of the recent past, a very small niche also dominated by the Fatherland’s finest.

Ironically, this shifting of categories means that for mainstream manufacturers, the once sparsely populated A-segment (city cars), has effectively superseded the E-segment in their line-ups. Can it be a coincidence that Ford’s 1996 Ka arrived just two years prior to the demise of the Scorpio? Or the 2000 Opel Agila a mere three years before the Omega’s departure?

Meanwhile in premium-land, even the big three have expanded their line-ups downwards (Audi A3 [above] and A1, BMW 1- and 2-Series, Mercedes-Benz CLA and A-Class), thus compensating for the gigantism which has afflicted their traditional saloons by filling in the newly-made space beneath them.

But the executives aren’t just being undermined by ‘smaller’ models; they’re under attack from above too, in the form of SUVs – which now account for a quarter of new car sales in Europe. It’s no surprise that manufacturers like the resurgent Alfa Romeo are prioritising SUVs over and above the E-segment when they clearly represent a more appealing proposition for most of the buying public.

Why? Well, the market for large cars increasingly seems to favour those which project ‘status’ and ‘dominance’, and it’s here that SUVs have executive saloons beaten at their own game. Not only does their additional bulk provide a more fitting canvas for aggressive and imposing design cues, but their drivers can, quite literally, look down upon other motorists, revelling in the perception of safety, even invincibility, which their elevated driving position bestows upon them.

Of course, saloons can still hit back with claims of superior handling, but this seems less important in today’s congested roadscape, plus the increased size of modern executives means any sporting pretensions are increasingly tenuous (for instance, the new M5 and E63 AMG each weigh a hair under two tonnes).

Then there’s the wider question of what society considers ‘aspirational’ nowadays.

In times gone by, when Western economies were stable, a job was for life and ‘respectability’ was most prized by the suburban middle classes, a large executive saloon made a lot of sense. Such a vehicle was symbolic of a lifetime spent climbing the corporate ladder, diligently beavering away until one reached the dizzy heights of ‘regional vice-president’ and retired with an engraved carriage clock.

By contrast, in today’s more unstable, short-termist environment, we’re forever being told that we need to be ‘dynamic’ and ‘individual’.

A steady nine-to-five (if you can even find one) is no longer enough; we’re expected to go mountain biking and surfing at weekends, go on holiday in exotic locations and have a tattoo or two.

Put an SUV on your driveway and you’re halfway there – or so the marketeers would have you believe – and what’s more, should the economy tip into full meltdown, said SUV will be ideal to navigate whatever post-apocalyptic dystopia ensues. At least, until its DPF gets clogged.

So, should we care about the E-segment? Yes, since despite overwhelming conservatism, it has gifted us with many a design classic over the years (delve into our gallery atop this page to see more of them).

Who doesn’t love the delightfully idiosyncratic big Citroëns of old, from DS to C6, via CX and XM? What about the exquisite proportions of Peugeot’s 605? Or the brutal, brooding Chrysler 300C? Lancia’s Thesis was more controversial, but not without merit design-wise, while sister-company Alfa Romeo’s 164 and 166 should really appeal to anyone in possession of a soul.

All that is before delving into the historical treasure-trove of German offerings in the sector (BMW’s E28 and E39, Mercedes’ W124 and Audi’s C5 A6 spring to mind). Even the Omega had a certain something…

Sadly, while the executive sector is not about to disappear any time soon (the remaining players are far too accomplished for that, plus saloons remain popular in other parts of the globe, i.e. China) it seems, due to prevailing circumstances, unlikely to ever see the level of diversity it once enjoyed, certainly in Europe. Shame…