Author name: 胡思

Recent declassified documents reviewed by the Financial Times reveal that in the 1990s, the UK Treasury explicitly judged that the Elizabeth Line “would never be built.” The reasons cited are all too familiar: exorbitant costs, overestimated demand, and the impossibility of private funding bearing the risks. Thirty years later, not only has this railway been completed, but it has also quickly become one of London’s busiest transport arteries. This stark contrast is not merely a single misjudgment but a reflection of systemic thinking.

The Elizabeth Line is not an isolated case. The planning history of the M25 motorway is equally revealing. At the time, there was a serious official viewpoint that the entire orbital motorway around London only required dual carriageways, based on the assumption that car growth would slow, cross-traffic would be limited, and that roads themselves would not create new demand. These assumptions seemed prudent and even rational at the time, yet they overlooked structural changes such as urban expansion, longer commuting distances, and the rapid growth of logistics activities. Today, the M25 is chronically congested, serving as the best counter-evidence to the underestimated demand of that era.

The same logic of “better to underestimate than to err” has repeatedly appeared in the history of UK infrastructure. The Channel Tunnel faced fierce criticism during its conception and promotion phases, labeled as a financial black hole, with opponents questioning its ability to break even and fearing the political repercussions of failure. Initially, the tunnel did indeed face financial difficulties, but as freight demand increased, air travel became restricted, and supply chains were restructured, its strategic value far exceeded any early models could have predicted.

Heathrow’s Terminal 5 reveals another misjudgment. Many at the time believed that air travel growth was unsustainable, predicting that the new terminal would remain underutilized and exacerbate environmental pressures. In reality, the terminal opened at full capacity, and the UK has long been constrained by insufficient airport capacity, hampering economic growth and international connectivity. The issue has never been about building too much, but rather about building too late.

The stories of the Overground and Jubilee Line further illustrate the blind spots of traditional fiscal assessments. The former was seen as a fragmented and marginal railway network prior to its overhaul, with returns difficult to quantify and lacking a grand narrative, thus long overlooked as a priority project. However, after service improvements and system integration, ridership surged, reshaping commuting patterns and community structures. The latter faced criticism when extended to Canary Wharf as a gamble on an unproven financial district, yet it was precisely because of the railway’s arrival that the area was able to take shape. Urban development often requires infrastructure to precede demand, rather than waiting for it to prove itself.

The book “Why Westminster Works and Why It Doesn’t” provides a crucial institutional explanation for this series of phenomena. It points out that the UK’s governance system is highly centralized around the Treasury, which wields significant horizontal influence; nearly all large, cross-departmental, long-term policies must pass through its scrutiny. This system operates effectively in avoiding immediate errors and maintaining procedural order, but it simultaneously creates a structural bias: it prioritizes risks that can be immediately held accountable while struggling to address dispersed, delayed, and difficult-to-attribute long-term costs.

The book does not blame officials for incompetence; on the contrary, it describes a system dominated by highly educated and analytically capable bureaucrats. The issue lies not in their irrationality but in the system encouraging them to use models, procedures, and audit standards to avoid mistakes rather than to take on the risks that require political judgment across generations and are fraught with uncertainty. In such an environment, “doing nothing” is often safer than “doing something wrong,” while the costs of delay are rarely formally calculated.

This encapsulates the true meaning of “better to do nothing than to do wrong.” It is not laziness or conspiracy, but rather a highly rational yet systematically underestimation of the future. However, the history of infrastructure repeatedly demonstrates that what is truly expensive is not erroneous investments but prolonged hesitation. When roads, railways, and airports are finally forced to be built, the costs are already higher, and the options are fewer.

If the UK genuinely wishes to break this cycle, the reform must extend beyond a single railway or motorway; it must encompass the entire culture of public investment. Infrastructure assessments need to incorporate the costs of inaction, systemic effects, and the long-term demand they induce into their core considerations, allowing “doing versus not doing” to be measured on the same timescale. Otherwise, “better to do nothing” will remain the safest choice, but it will also continue to be the UK’s most costly habit.

The West Somerset Lagoon is a large tidal lagoon power generation project planned for the southwestern coast of the UK, situated between Minehead and Watchet along the Bristol Channel. The concept involves constructing a curved breakwater near the shore to enclose a body of water, utilizing the difference in water levels between the lagoon and the open sea during tidal changes to drive turbines for electricity generation. It falls under tidal range generation rather than tidal stream generation, relying on sea level fluctuations rather than water flow speed. The project’s proponents have attached an appealing label: an installed capacity of approximately 2.5 GW, an annual generation of about 6.5 TWh, zero carbon emissions, and independence from weather conditions, with a theoretical lifespan exceeding a century.

Such claims resonate because they hit the pain points of the UK’s energy transition. As the proportion of wind and solar power continues to rise, the grid is becoming increasingly unstable; the greatest strength of tidal energy is its high predictability. Tidal changes are determined by astronomical factors, allowing generation periods to be scheduled years in advance, unaffected by calm winds or cloudy days. For a grid that requires long-term planning for backup capacity, this certainty is inherently valuable.

However, when one examines the physical realities, the project’s role becomes clearer and less ideal. Tides do not follow a daily cycle but rather a semi-diurnal pattern, with a cycle of approximately 12 hours and 25 minutes. The lagoon generates electricity for about 10 to 14 hours each day, but not continuously; instead, it is divided into four segments and shifts backward each day. Today, it may generate in the evening, but a few days later, it may shift to late at night. This means it cannot naturally align with human peak electricity usage times, remaining fundamentally a high-quality but rhythmically fixed intermittent power source.

Some have suggested that by integrating battery storage, this rhythm could be ‘smoothed out’, making tidal power as stable as nuclear energy. While this is not impossible from an engineering perspective, it is economically prohibitive. To convert the lagoon’s output into nearly round-the-clock supply would require tens of GWh of storage, and batteries have a lifespan of only about ten years, far short of the lagoon’s claimed lifespan of 120 years. The result would be an already capital-intensive project compounded by another capital black hole that requires frequent replacements.

What truly weighs down this proposal is its financial structure. The characteristics of a tidal lagoon involve extremely high upfront costs, a long construction period, and indivisibility. This means it is nearly impossible to finance through competitive Contracts for Difference (CfD) and must rely on a Regulated Asset Base (RAB) model, which incorporates some construction risks into electricity prices to secure lower financing costs. In institutional terms, it resembles nuclear power rather than typical renewable energy projects. Discussions inevitably turn to Sizewell C, as both share similar risk-bearing mechanisms.

However, the key difference lies in necessity. The government’s decision to advance Sizewell C stems from the current scarcity of low-carbon power sources that do not rely on weather or storage and can provide long-term continuous supply. Nuclear power is not an ideal solution but is viewed as temporarily indispensable. In contrast, the Somerset tidal lagoon offers predictable intermittency, a function that could theoretically be replaced by a combination of offshore wind, storage, demand management, and transmission upgrades. This is not a matter of technical superiority but rather a question of policy prioritization.

Adding to this are considerations of environmental impact and irreversibility, making the issue even sharper. Once the lagoon is constructed, there is virtually no turning back. The impacts on sediment, ecology, and coastal dynamics must be rigorously verified in advance, rather than remedied afterward. The true risk of such projects has never been about whether they will generate power, but rather whether the costs of a mistaken judgment are bearable.

Therefore, the Somerset tidal lagoon is neither a castle in the air nor a panacea. It possesses unique value, but only if positioned correctly as a piece of the energy grid puzzle, rather than being expected to serve as a substitute for nuclear power. The energy transition has never been about choosing the most appealing narrative, but rather about selecting the least bad order under real-world conditions. If the tidal lagoon is to endure, it must first be viewed with a clear and rational perspective.

The UK’s third largest indoor performance venue is taking shape in North Filton, Bristol. This is not just a blueprint; it is a project that has been approved and is currently underway.

The YTL Arena, located in northern Bristol, is designed to accommodate 20,000 spectators. In terms of seating capacity, it ranks third among indoor venues in the UK, alongside London’s O2 Arena, and is only surpassed by Manchester’s Co-op Live and Manchester Arena. In other words, one of the four largest indoor performance venues in the UK is not in London or Manchester, but in Bristol.

How significant is a capacity of 20,000? The Hong Kong Coliseum, when full, accommodates only 12,500 people, which is already considered a top-tier venue in Asia, yet it is still markedly smaller than the YTL Arena. This capacity is sufficient to host major global tours, large sporting events, and comprehensive entertainment activities, allowing Bristol to finally meet the criteria to become a ‘first-stop city’ rather than merely an alternative option on tour routes.

The YTL Arena is part of the broader redevelopment of Brabazon, spearheaded by Malaysia’s YTL Corporation. This is not an isolated venue; it is integrated into a long-term urban project that includes residential, commercial, educational, and public spaces. It is currently expected to open around 2028, aligning with the maturation timeline of the entire new district.

Transportation infrastructure is also crucial. The North Filton railway station, which is being developed in tandem with the venue, along with the nearby Bristol Parkway, will connect the national rail network directly to the core of the new district, ensuring that the influx of visitors for large events can be accommodated by the regular transport system rather than relying on temporary arrangements.

The economic benefits are also quite clear. During both the construction and operational phases, the YTL Arena will create thousands of direct and indirect jobs and, through performances, tourism, hotel stays, and dining expenditures, will generate hundreds of millions of pounds in economic activity for North Filton each year. This is not a one-off event; it represents a long-term enhancement of urban functionality.

North Filton is steadily positioning itself at the forefront of the UK’s cultural landscape through its capacity, transportation, and timing.