Home2025-07-21T22:11:13+00:00

HS2 exposed as a Tory white elephant and waste of public money

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The high-speed rail project HS2 is not likely to begin running by the latest-projected date for doing so, it has been revealed.

The announcement adds to the wealth of indications that the whole project has been nothing but a waste of tens of billions of pounds of public money – ordered at a time when public money was scarce.

Were David Cameron and his “Con/Dem” (Conservative and Liberal Democrat) coalition government deliberately keeping cash away from where it would do the most good?


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The BBC tells us, “HS2 has confirmed that its aim to get trains running between Birmingham and London between 2029 and 2033 “cannot be achieved”.

“Earlier this year, HS2 CEO Mark Wild acknowledged that construction had been “harder than thought” and “needed a reset” involving a review of the project’s cost and schedule.”

Apparently the project is now at an “advanced stage of a comprehensive reset”.

HS2 was originally devised in 2009, but plans were not confirmed until 2012, when the UK was struggling under the austerity project of David Cameron and his Chancellor, George Osborne, who extracted tens of billions of pounds from the UK economy plunging millions of people into economic hardship and causing 190,000 excess deaths, according to the London School of Economics.

Was it just another Tory money pit – a plan to spend money so poor people can’t benefit from it?

And do we even know how long it will take for HS2 to pay for itself, once it finally becomes active?

Taking the second question first: the short answer is: no – there is no credible, agreed estimate for when HS2 will “pay for itself”, and on current evidence it may never do so in any meaningful economic sense.

Here’s the longer answer, because the way HS2 has been justified keeps shifting:

When HS2 was first approved in the early 2010s, the Department for Transport’s business case claimed that the scheme would deliver a positive benefit–cost ratio over a 60-year appraisal period. That did not mean it would ever repay its construction costs in cash terms.

It meant that, on paper, the monetised value of time savings, agglomeration effects and supposed productivity gains would exceed the cost over several decades.

Even that weak claim has now largely collapsed.

The original economic case depended on four things that are no longer true.

First, the network was supposed to be national. London to Birmingham was only phase one, justified mainly because it would unlock later legs to Manchester, Leeds and beyond.

With those northern legs cancelled, the biggest projected benefits disappeared. What remains is a very expensive inter-city shuttle between London and the West Midlands, terminating at Old Oak Common rather than central London.

Second, the cost assumptions were fantasy. HS2 was sold at roughly £33 billion in 2011 prices. Even after massive scope cuts, current estimates sit well above double that in cash terms, and nobody now pretends the final figure is stable. Every reset pushes the break-even point further into the future.

Third, the time-saving argument has been intellectually discredited. Saving “up to 20 minutes” was always a weak public-facing slogan, but internally the business case relied on the now-absurd assumption that time on trains is economically “unproductive”.

Remote working, onboard connectivity and changing work patterns have blown that model apart. The Treasury quietly downgraded the value of travel-time savings years ago, hollowing out HS2’s headline benefits.

Fourth, passenger demand projections are shaky at best. Post-pandemic travel patterns have not returned to the growth curves assumed when HS2 was approved. A railway that is not full does not generate transformative economic returns.

Put bluntly: there is no serious analysis now claiming HS2 will ever recoup its costs, either through fares or through wider economic benefits, within any politically or socially meaningful timeframe.

The National Audit Office has repeatedly warned that value for money is “unproven” and deteriorating, and the government has stopped publishing clear benefit–cost ratios altogether. That silence is telling.

As for whether this was “just another Tory money pit”, the answer is uncomfortable but fairly clear.

HS2 fits a long Conservative pattern: large, centralised prestige infrastructure, managed through private contractors, justified by abstract growth models, and insulated from democratic accountability once construction begins.

The costs are socialised; the benefits, such as they are, skew towards business travellers, property developers and London-centric firms.

Meanwhile, genuinely redistributive alternatives – regional rail upgrades, local transport, bus networks – were starved of funds or cancelled to “pay for HS2”.

It was not designed primarily to help poorer people travel more cheaply or more reliably.

HS2 fares were never intended to be low.

Nor was it about regional equality in any serious sense once the northern legs were dropped.

We are left with a truncated project that no longer even fulfils its own stated purpose.

So, yes, it increasingly looks like a white elephant, because HS2 was politically mis-sold, economically over-promised and then cynically hollowed out.

What remains is an enormously expensive solution to a problem that no longer exists, delivering benefits that are narrower, later and smaller than anyone was originally told to expect.

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Less than half of Britons think Keir Starmer will still be PM at the end of 2026

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A pollster has asked what Britons expect from 2026 – and the results are about as optimistic as you’d expect.

According to Ipsos, only 27 per cent of UK citizens think 2026 will be a better year than the one just gone, while 31 percent are convinced it will be worse.

Age plays a significant role in outlook, as younger Britons (aged 16-34) are more
optimistic (46 per cent) compared with older age groups.

Let’s look at the list – and keep it handy to compare with whatever actually happens.

To read the list, head over to The Whip Line.

A paid subscription unlocks all my analysis and helps keep independent UK political journalism going.

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Art is commenting on life again – but can we learn its lessons or is it already too late?

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I’ve just finished reading the entire fictional output of the horror/science fiction writer HP Lovecraft (because I do actually take time off occasionally).

Looking at commentaries on his writing, it seems there’s some discussion about whether Lovecraft was a racist, because his stories of interbreeding between human beings and a race of amphibians that he describes as “Deep Ones” is apparently based on his own horror of miscegenation, at a time when racism was rife in his home country, the United States.

In the UK in 2025, we’ve just had a major TV drama called The War Between The Land And The Sea, based on Doctor Who, in which humanity goes into conflict with a species known as Homo Aqua (colloquially, “Sea Devils”) – a race of advanced reptiles who were (according to the story) dominant on Earth before humanity and want it back.

In the show, a human being falls in love with a Homo Aqua and ends up metamorphosing into a hybrid creature.

All this has been put on TV at a time when racism is rife in the UK.

Comparing this with the Lovecraft stories, it seems to me that history is repeating itself – in different permutations.

Personally, I don’t think its a fantastic idea to symbolise interracial relationships using different species, but the concept of HP Lovecraft’s horror becoming modern-day heroism is worth exploring, especially considering the context is the same (racism).

To read the full commentary, head over to The Whip Line.

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Could this land value tax proposal actually work?

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It’s curious, how the ‘limbo’ period between Christmas and the New Year affects us.

Some of us lose track of time in a web of winter celebrations; others start thinking about serious issues that are still facing their world.

I have a friend who is clearly in the latter camp. He recently posted the following on Facebook:

“I have developed what I think is a boring but sane plan that while probably politically dynamite – the big losers would be the Duke of Westminster, the Royal Family, the Church of Latter Day Saints, the Church of England and Oxbridge colleges – would actually work.

“If you know your economics you will instantly see I’m proposing a tax on land; not on the buildings, businesses, or development of said land – just on the value of the area in that location (I just listed the biggest landowners).

“Henry George suggested this in the 19th century, but it makes far more sense today.

“We get rid of Council Tax and business rates; large out of town retailers with acres of tarmac will now pay more than a corner shop, but both will pay less than now and nothing if they don’t own the land.

“Phase it in over 5 years, setting the tax at 1.1% of land value (just the land not the things built on it) annually.

“That replaces council tax and business rates entirely, opens up incentives to use land in valuable urban centres and reduces taxation on business and the poorest.

“Farmers will be no worse off as their land is used productively; that dictates the land value.

“People who speculate on planning permission and produce nothing will lose; but those who build will gain.

“You have to zero rate commons, parks, civic open space.

“You need enforced building regulations.

“What it will do though is tax the 7.1 trillion pounds sitting in land values, and relieve the burden on the poor by lowering rents by encouraging development and expanding housing supply.

“You’ll need guard rails, careful implementation and vested interests will hate it, but it would result in a construction boom and a fairer society within twenty years, and it’s hard to argue against it on economic grounds.

“A land tax may be the most progressive option for the UK, far more liable to work than punitive wealth taxes. Why? You can’t hide land, can you?

“It is an incredibly hard tax to evade, and if you sell up to working farms or developers, well you’ve just done what was intended.

“Land Value Tax is my modest proposal to make [the UK] a better place.”

I checked it out, and guess what?

This idea is serious, coherent, and economically orthodox — but politically explosive and administratively harder than it looks.

As a diagnosis of what is wrong with the UK economy, it is very strong. As a treatment, it is one of the few proposals that actually lines up incentives properly rather than fighting symptoms.

Longer answer:

My friend is describing a Land Value Tax (LVT) in the Henry George tradition, and most mainstream economists who have seriously engaged with it end up conceding three big points in its favour:

First, the economic logic is unusually clean. Land is fixed in supply. You cannot move it offshore, hide it in trusts in the Cayman Islands, or stop producing it in response to the tax.

That means an LVT creates almost no deadweight loss. Unlike taxes on labour, consumption or capital, it does not discourage productive activity.

In textbook terms, it is about as close to a “free lunch” as taxation ever gets.

Second, it targets unearned economic rent rather than productive effort.

UK land values largely reflect planning permission, infrastructure, proximity to jobs and services, and historic privilege — not the effort of the current owner.

Taxing that value recaptures socially created wealth for public use, rather than punishing work, enterprise or investment.

That is why Henry George appealed to liberals, socialists and classical economists.

Third, it directly addresses the UK’s central economic dysfunction: land hoarding and underdevelopment.

The UK does not have a productivity problem so much as a location problem; we concentrate economic activity into a few overheated areas while allowing vast quantities of valuable land to be underused.

An LVT flips the incentive structure: holding land idle becomes expensive, while farming, building, selling or developing becomes rational. That is exactly what the UK economy needs.

Unlike taxes on labour or consumption, a land value tax cannot be passed on in higher rents in the long run, because the supply of land is fixed. The tax is absorbed into land prices instead.

Replacing Council Tax and business rates is also a major strength.

Council Tax is regressive and frozen in a 1991 property valuation time warp; business rates actively punish investment in premises and equipment.

An LVT would remove both distortions in one stroke.

While Council Tax is legally paid by occupants rather than owners, its incidence still largely falls on land values over time. One of the strongest arguments for LVT is that it makes the real payer visible and aligns legal liability with economic reality.

My friend is right that out-of-town retailers sitting on acres of tarmac are currently subsidised relative to dense urban use, and that corner shops are penalised for occupying valuable locations without owning the land beneath them.

The point about farmers is broadly correct too.

Agricultural land has relatively low location value because its permitted use is narrow and its economic yield modest.

A properly designed LVT would not crush productive farming — though transitional reliefs would almost certainly be needed for cash-poor landholders.

And implementation would, of course, differ in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, where land law, planning regimes and local taxation differ.

Where this becomes more fragile is not economics, but politics and implementation.

Valuation is the first obstacle. While land can be valued separately from buildings — it is done in other countries — doing so nationwide, accurately and credibly would be a massive administrative undertaking.

It is solvable, but it would require a level of state capacity and political patience the UK has not shown for decades.

The UK already performs mass valuations for business rates, inheritance tax, compulsory purchase and planning gain. The obstacle is less technical feasibility than political willingness to fund and trust a competent public valuation system.

Transition effects are the second problem. A tax of 1.1 per cent on land value would capitalise immediately into lower land prices. That is economically desirable, but it creates visible losers: asset-rich, cash-poor households; institutions with historic endowments; and anyone who bought recently at inflated prices.

Even if rents fall in the long run, the short-term distributional shock would be fierce.

This leads to the third issue: vested interests. My friend lists them accurately: the aristocracy, Oxbridge colleges, the Church of England, large institutional landlords, and much of the political class itself sit on vast land wealth.

Unlike income tax or VAT, this tax hits people who are powerful, organised, and very good at blocking reform. The UK political system is structurally biased towards landowners — not accidentally, but historically.

There is also a deeper reason for this resistance: at present, the state inflates land values through planning decisions and infrastructure investment, then allows the uplift to be privately captured. A land value tax would reverse that logic, giving the public a direct stake in value creation — and removing the incentive to manufacture scarcity.

Finally, the claim that it is “hard to argue against on economic grounds” is mostly true, but critics do exist.

Some argue that land value is already partially taxed through Stamp Duty and Council Tax (though badly). Others worry about volatility in land values during downturns.

These are not fatal objections, but they are not frivolous either.

Fears that it would “crash the housing market” usually conflate land prices with housing utility. What would fall is speculative land value, not the usefulness of homes themselves — which is precisely the intended effect.

So is it any good?

As a piece of economic reasoning: yes — very good.

As a way of realigning incentives, boosting housing supply, reducing inequality and shifting taxation away from work: arguably the best single reform available.

As a politically achievable policy in the UK without a major realignment of power: extremely unlikely in the short term.

That tension — between economic sanity and political impossibility — is exactly why Land Value Tax keeps resurfacing every generation, and exactly why it keeps being ignored.

My friend’s suggestion is begging to be taken up – but this is unlikely to happen because the system has been broken – by the people who run it

And there is no political will – at all – to fix it.

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Reform UK is cashing in – so now the other parties want caps on political donations

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Suddenly it’s a good idea to put a cap on political donations.

Is that because Reform UK just had the biggest donation in UK political history and the other parties are running scared of that?

It was fine when THEY were the ones who were benefiting…

Here’s The Guardian: “Ministers should legislate to cap political donations to “rebuild voter confidence” in democracy, campaigners have said.

“In a letter sent this week to Steve Reed, the communities secretary, and Samantha Dixon, the democracy minister, 19 civil organisations said “a donations cap is the best way to protect our democracy and to rebuild voter confidence in the system”.

“Its signatories include the Electoral Reform Society, Transparency International UK, Hope not Hate and the UK Anti-Corruption Coalition.

“The call comes weeks after Nigel Farage’s Reform UK declared it had received £9m from the Thailand-based crypto investor Christopher Harborne, the largest donation made by a living person to a British political party.”

Caps on political donations have been treated by the major parties as a theoretical “nice-to-have” for many years – ignoring the obligations that these donations bring with them.

The argument was always practical rather than principled: campaigns are expensive, the state won’t fund them properly, and private money is therefore unavoidable.

That logic held sway as long as the beneficiaries of the system were Labour, the Conservatives, and their familiar circles of wealthy backers.

The Establishment parties got their money and their donors got their way when their choice of party got into office.

Nobody in power was especially keen to fix a system that was working for them.

What has changed is not a sudden outbreak of democratic virtue. It is the direction of the money.

A single £9 million donation to Reform UK shatters a long-standing comfort zone.

Large donations were tolerated when they were fragmented across multiple donors, tied to established interests, and embedded in networks the political class understood and could manage.

One enormous cheque to an insurgent party led by Nigel Farage is different because it concentrates power, accelerates disruption, and removes the reassuring fiction that money merely “supports” politics rather than reshaping it.

So this initiative cames with a strong whiff of panic dressed up as principle.

Notice how the language works: campaigners talk about “rebuilding voter confidence”, “protecting democracy”, and “closing loopholes”. All of that may be true, but none of it is new.

Transparency International, the Electoral Reform Society and others have been making the same arguments for years, while donations from hedge fund managers, property tycoons and private equity figures flowed into the Conservative Party, and millionaire donors bankrolled Labour’s election machine. The political response back then was inertia.

Only now, after the biggest donation in UK political history lands with Reform UK, does the idea of a cap suddenly feel urgent.

There is also a deeper anxiety at play: Reform’s funding model does not just threaten electoral outcomes; it threatens control.

Crypto donations, overseas-linked wealth, and donors outside the traditional British elite networks make the system harder to police informally.

When ministers say they are worried about “knowing who is providing the donation”, what they really mean is knowing whether the donor is legible, predictable, and containable within existing power structures.

That does not mean a donations cap is a bad idea. In democratic terms, it is long overdue.

A system in which 19 individuals can supply two-thirds of all private political funding is not meaningfully democratic, regardless of which party benefits.

But it does mean we should be sceptical of the moral conversion story now being told.

If Reform UK were still scraping by on small donations, would this bill be coming forward with the same urgency? Almost certainly not.

Labour, like the Conservatives before it, relies on big private donors (because Keir Starmer deliberately purged the party of hundreds of thousands of members, thereby destroying the financial power base of the party membership) and has spent years quietly accommodating that reality.

Labour’s reluctance to legislate after the IPPR proposed a £100,000 cap tells you everything you need to know about where its comfort level lies.

In short: the system was “acceptable” while it reinforced the existing political settlement. It became “dangerous” the moment it empowered a party outside it.

That hypocrisy does not invalidate the reform – a cap on donations would make politics more transparent, and may even make it more democratic, just as its proponents are suggesting.

But it does expose the motivation.

This is less about suddenly discovering that money distorts democracy, and more about those in power discovering that it can now distort democracy in an inconvenient direction.

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