UK Affairs

Brexit is often framed as an opportunity to streamline government and reduce regulation, yet the reality has been quite the opposite. Since the referendum in 2016, the number of full-time equivalent civil servants in the UK central government has risen from approximately 380,000 to over 510,000, an increase of more than 130,000. Multiple research institutions have pointed out that, after accounting for the pandemic, around 100,000 of these positions are directly or indirectly related to the new systems, border controls, regulations, and negotiations that emerged post-Brexit. This is not a result of improved administrative efficiency, but rather a structural cost incurred from exiting a common system that necessitates compensatory staffing.

The issue is not merely one of having more personnel; it is that this influx represents a permanent increase in ongoing expenditure. When calculating the total cost of civil servants, one must consider not only salaries but also employer national insurance contributions, pension liabilities, office rentals, IT systems, cybersecurity, training, and management costs. Even under conservative assumptions, the annual cost per civil servant is estimated to be between £50,000 and £60,000. If we consider the 100,000 staff related to Brexit, the additional ongoing expenditure reaches £5 billion to £6 billion per year, and this is not a one-off cost but rather a recurring burden embedded in government spending.

One of the most expensive and difficult-to-reverse areas is border control and immigration. Prior to Brexit, the UK did not require complete third-country checks on goods and people from the EU; post-Brexit, customs declarations, rules of origin, plant and animal health inspections, border IT systems, port infrastructure, and additional border and immigration officials have all become the norm. The Home Office and HM Revenue and Customs have maintained high staffing levels to manage the new visa system, residency approvals, customs clearance, and compliance enforcement. These costs are reflected not only in salaries but also in the expensive construction and maintenance of border systems, making this one of the heaviest burdens on public finances post-Brexit.

Another underestimated source of expenditure is the regulation of food, pharmaceuticals, and agriculture. Previously centralized by the EU, food safety assessments, drug approvals, agricultural subsidies, and environmental compliance have all returned to domestic management post-Brexit. In the pharmaceutical sector, the UK must establish parallel approval and regulatory capabilities to the EU, which, even if the outcomes often align, still requires a complete set of independent personnel and procedures. The same applies to food and agriculture, where health inspections, subsidy management, standard-setting, and enforcement demand additional long-term human resources. These tasks are not an expansion of policy choices but rather an unavoidable duplication resulting from institutional fragmentation.

In addition, there are layers of Brexit-related expenditures that are less frequently mentioned but equally resource-intensive. Legally, a significant number of regulations that were previously EU-based need to be transposed, amended, and maintained over the long term, requiring specialized legal and policy personnel. In trade, the UK must independently maintain rules of origin verification, trade remedies, subsidy regulation, and dispute resolution mechanisms, even if actual cases are few; the system itself must still exist in its entirety. Furthermore, the government must continue to provide businesses with guidance on Brexit compliance, support hotlines, and transitional arrangements. These seemingly scattered tasks cumulatively represent a long-term burden on both human resources and finances.

When these expenditures are distributed at the household level, the picture becomes clearer. With approximately 27 million households in the UK, the annual Brexit-related personnel expenditure of £5.5 billion translates to about £200 per household each year. This amount will not appear on tax bills as a ‘Brexit cost’; instead, it will be absorbed indirectly through tax pressure, dilution of public service resources, or the squeezing of other budget items.

It is noteworthy that the government often attributes the rise in civil servant numbers to the pandemic while downplaying the long-term impact of Brexit. The pandemic has led to a temporary spike, which theoretically can recede; however, the effects of Brexit are permanent and recurring. As long as the UK chooses to operate independently in institutional terms, it will require more personnel and financial resources in the long term to accomplish tasks that could have been shared within a common system.

Whether Brexit was worth it remains a matter of political division; however, from an administrative and financial perspective, the accounts are quite clear. Approximately 100,000 new civil servants and billions of pounds in annual ongoing expenditure ultimately fall on every household. This may not be the most prominent page in the Brexit narrative, but it is likely the most enduring and hardest to ignore.

Whenever discussing travel in the UK, Stonehenge almost invariably makes the list. Consequently, it has also become one of the most easily overlooked landmarks. Some merely slow down to glance at it from the roadside, declaring it nothing more than a pile of stones on a barren plain; others, put off by the ticket price, simply park nearby and peer through the fence, inadvertently causing traffic jams. Thus, Stonehenge finds itself in a paradoxical situation: dismissed as unworthy of a look, yet significant enough to slow down the entire road.

However, to regard Stonehenge merely as ‘stones’ is to fundamentally misunderstand the issue. It has never been an isolated structure, but rather a project spanning approximately 1,500 years, constructed and modified repeatedly by successive generations. The earliest circular ditch can be traced back to 3000 BC, followed by the gradual addition of bluestones from Wales and massive sandstone blocks weighing 30 to 40 tons, likely sourced from the Marlborough Downs. This was not an impromptu act, but a long-term plan.

Naturally, the question arises: why? In an era devoid of metal tools, wheeled vehicles, or writing systems, why expend such enormous human resources and time merely to erect a set of stones that serve no direct practical function? Precisely because it is ‘useless’ that it becomes crucial. Archaeologists widely believe that the core function of Stonehenge was not habitation, defense, or production, but rather ritualistic—it marked time, order, and shared beliefs.

The precise alignment of the stones with the summer and winter solstices indicates that the builders possessed advanced astronomical observation skills. In an agricultural society, seasonal changes are not romantic symbols but vital knowledge. The ability to predict seasonal variations directly impacts sowing, harvesting, and the timing of rituals. Fixing this knowledge within the landscape equates to transforming time itself into a public asset, while also transferring the power to interpret time to specific groups.

This is not merely a historical conjecture. Even today, during the summer and winter solstices, large crowds gather around Stonehenge to witness the sunrise or sunset. Some participate in modern neo-pagan rituals, while others quietly observe, but the act itself illustrates the point: in a highly rationalized and digital society, people are still willing to return to this barren land at specific moments, simply to experience the turning points of the year. This is not a tourism event, but a collective experience that has persisted for thousands of years.

More importantly, Stonehenge symbolizes a capacity for collective mobilization. It signifies that some individuals can persuade, or even command, others to engage in long-term labor without any immediate material reward. This reflects not a primitive society, but a highly socialized one—one that has learned to maintain order through rituals, beliefs, and collective memory. The ability to repeatedly conduct seasonal rituals year after year is itself a manifestation of power and consensus.

Ironically, it is precisely because Stonehenge does not offer immediate shock and does not cater to the rhythm of modern tourism that it is misjudged as ‘overrated’. Fences, fixed routes, and guided tours every few minutes compress what was once a trace of a prehistoric civilization into a mere backdrop for photos. Tourists are encouraged to take pictures, yet rarely guided to understand that the stones before them represent humanity’s early understanding of paying a real price for abstract values.

To claim that Stonehenge is overrated is often not because it is too hollow, but because we are too impatient. Eager to see results, we are unwilling to imagine the process; eager to evaluate, we refuse to acknowledge that in an age without technology, states, or markets, humanity already understood the value of gathering repeatedly to construct time, order, and shared beliefs.

What has always been underestimated is not that circle of stones, but its enduring power to draw people back to the same moment.

England’s drunk driving laws are virtually without debate when compared to Europe: they are indeed the most lenient. The current standard permits 80 milligrams of alcohol per 100 milliliters of blood, a threshold that is not only higher than Scotland’s but also significantly above that of other European countries. The Labour government recently proposed tightening the standard to align with mainstream Europe, a move not made lightly but rather in response to a long-ignored gap in road safety.

Translating these figures into barroom reality makes the differences starkly apparent. Under the current 80 mg standard, many drivers can still be considered ‘legally able to drive’ after consuming two to three pints of beer; however, under the proposed 50 mg standard, even an 85-kilogram individual drinking beer with an alcohol content of approximately 4.5% would barely remain within the limits after just one pint.

Scientific evidence has long indicated that even below 50 mg, drivers experience quantifiable declines in reaction time, distance judgment, and risk assessment abilities. This is precisely why countries like France, Germany, and Spain have set their legal limits at 50 mg. This is not a moral lecture but a risk management conclusion drawn from accident statistics and behavioral studies.

In recent years, approximately 250 to 300 people in the UK still die annually in alcohol-related road accidents, with thousands more classified as serious injuries related to drunk driving or alcohol factors. On average, someone dies from this every day. Among all preventable road risks, alcohol remains the clearest and most easily reducible through legislation.

Opposition primarily arises from certain members of the Reform and Conservative parties, focusing on the impact on the bar and restaurant industry. They worry that lowering the standard will affect nighttime consumption, harm rural pub businesses, and even alter existing social culture. These concerns are understandable, but fundamentally, they place bar business on the same level as road safety, attempting to offset a clearly quantifiable and annually fatal public risk with economic considerations.

However, the reality is that the choice is not limited to the extremes of ‘drink or stay home.’ Those wishing to drink a few more can easily arrange for a designated driver among friends; for those wanting to socialize and drive, non-alcoholic or low-alcohol beers are already available. The reform does not aim to strip away social life but rather to demand a clearer distinction between drinking and driving.

Since Scotland lowered its standard in 2014, the predicted wave of pub closures has not materialized; on the contrary, alcohol-related accidents have gradually declined, and societal tolerance for ‘driving after drinking’ has correspondingly diminished. The purpose of the policy is not to prohibit alcohol but to draw a clear line: if you have been drinking, you should not drive.

What is truly questionable is not whether the reform is too strict, but why we continue to tolerate a proven lethal risk for the sake of bar businesses. Alcohol will not become milder due to economic pressures, nor will roads become safer due to political slogans. The only question England needs to answer is whether it is willing to acknowledge that it has fallen behind Europe on this issue for far too long.

From a resource perspective, Greenland is not particularly appealing. While it does contain rare earth elements, uranium, zinc, and nickel, the question has never been about availability but rather about viability. The polar climate results in a very short construction season, and the costs of transporting equipment, fuel, and labor across half the globe far exceed those of other mining regions. Furthermore, local political sensitivities regarding environmental issues have led to the shelving of several mining projects amid controversy. Even as the world seeks to diversify its rare earth supply, the market generally believes that Greenland will struggle to become a significant player in the foreseeable future.

The military aspect has also been exaggerated. Under a 1951 defense agreement between the United States and Denmark, the U.S. has long been permitted to deploy any necessary military facilities in Greenland. While Thule Air Base is indeed important, it is often overlooked that the U.S. has significantly reduced its troop presence there over the years. At the height of the Cold War, the base was staffed by tens of thousands; today, only a few hundred remain, with their roles primarily focused on missile warning, space surveillance, and radar operations. If Greenland were truly a critical military asset, the U.S. would have ramped up its presence rather than continuously downsizing it.

Given that resources are not economically viable and military urgency is lacking, the focus must shift to politics.

With Arctic warming, the strategic value of Greenland is indeed increasing; however, making sovereignty a public issue carries significant costs. Denmark is a NATO member, and although Greenland enjoys a high degree of autonomy, it remains part of the Kingdom of Denmark. Publicly discussing the ‘purchase’ of allied territory undermines the foundation of post-war alliance trust. If this logic is accepted, NATO would cease to be a partnership of equals and devolve into a stark power dynamic, potentially costing the U.S. the political trust of the entire continent of Europe.

This high-risk posture aligns perfectly with Trump’s political instincts. He favors simple, tangible narratives that can be immediately promoted, reducing complex geopolitical issues to ‘America wants a piece of land.’ This strongman image is particularly appealing to voters who lack a basic understanding of international politics but yearn to see displays of power—no need to understand the costs or calculate the consequences, just the perception of strength mobilizes their emotions.

Moreover, one cannot overlook the role of distraction. In the U.S., the ongoing controversy surrounding the Epstein case has been contentious. Even though the court has ordered the release of related documents, the actual content released by the Justice Department has been widely criticized as representing only a tiny fraction—reportedly less than 1%—of the total. In this context, shifting public attention to a grand external issue—Arctic sovereignty, territory, national power—naturally feels safer than confronting thorny and sensitive domestic issues. By occupying news space, the original problems become diluted.

Thus, the Greenland issue is less about a strategic blueprint and more about a political performance: crafting a strongman image while deflecting domestic pressures. Greenland may not hold treasures, but it reflects a reality—when politics appeals to emotion and posture, it often attracts those least willing to understand the complexities of the world; yet, it is allies, institutions, and the already fragile international trust that will ultimately bear the consequences.

As we enter 2026, the population issue in the UK has shifted from a long-term concern to an immediate risk. The Daily Telegraph reports that net immigration is heading towards a two-decade low, with a reduction of over 100,000 foreign workers and students within a year. Applications for nursing and health visas have nearly halved, while skilled worker visas have plummeted by more than 30%, and family visas have also contracted. James Bowes, a researcher at the University of Warwick, warns that under the current policy trajectory, net immigration could realistically fall to zero this year, or even turn negative. This is not a case of ‘successful management’; rather, the immigration pool is being actively drained by policy.

As immigration declines, another pillar of population support is also beginning to collapse. Sky News cites an analysis by the Resolution Foundation, indicating that the UK is approaching a tipping point where natural population growth will turn negative, meaning that deaths will long outnumber births. The persistently low birth rate has become a structural problem that will not automatically rebound due to tightened immigration. When negative net immigration coincides with negative natural growth, the UK will not merely experience a slowdown in population growth but a substantive contraction. This point has received almost no positive response from government policy.

The first impact of population contraction is felt in the labour force. A decreasing working-age population makes it more difficult for businesses to hire, naturally slowing economic growth; simultaneously, the pace of population aging accelerates, with a rising proportion of retirees, meaning that pension and NHS healthcare expenditures will balloon more rapidly. The problem lies in the fact that there are increasingly fewer taxpayers, while the number of beneficiaries continues to rise, placing ever-greater structural pressure on public finances.

The Times cites the Resolution Foundation, stating that if net immigration remains approximately 200,000 lower than originally forecasted over the long term, the resulting gap in public finances would be equivalent to needing to raise the basic income tax rate by about 2 pence to compensate. In other words, tightening immigration does not ‘alleviate burdens’; it merely shifts financial pressure onto existing taxpayers, ultimately manifesting as a tax increase burdening workers.

Ironically, there exists a significant gap between public opinion and reality. A poll by The Guardian shows that despite a substantial drop in net immigration, around two-thirds of voters mistakenly believe that immigration is on the rise, and three-quarters lack confidence in the government’s immigration policy. The issue of small boat crossings has become a highly visible political focal point, yet it constitutes only a tiny fraction of total immigration numbers. By catering to these misconceptions and continuing to tighten legal immigration channels, the government will only further weaken the labour force and tax base.

If the UK simultaneously faces negative net immigration, negative natural growth, labour shortages, and rapid aging, yet still chooses to narrow the immigration pool, this is no longer prudent but shortsighted. The population issue is structural and requires a stable, predictable, and attractive system to retain people. Continuing to tighten immigration policy at this juncture will not only fail to resolve the problem but will also resemble a self-defeating cycle, pushing the UK towards a vicious circle of ‘fewer people, higher taxes, and weaker economy.’

Secondary legislation in the UK has never been particularly complex in its original intent. It was meant to serve merely as an administrative lubricant for handling technical details: updating fees, adjusting procedures, revising forms. If every minor issue required restarting the full legislative process, it would be both inefficient and disproportionate. The problem lies not in the existence of secondary legislation, but in how its use has been progressively expanded, ultimately replacing policy choices that should be addressed directly by Parliament.

This slippery slope did not occur suddenly; it is a natural result of institutional incentives. When Parliament passes primary legislation, it often grants ministers the authority to ‘regulate details,’ citing the need for flexibility. The broader the delegated powers, the less political resistance there is at the moment; controversies are postponed to be dealt with later through statutory instruments. A successful instance becomes a precedent; as precedents accumulate, they become the norm.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, this model was pushed to its limits. Lockdowns, business restrictions, and bans on gatherings—measures that profoundly impacted personal freedoms and economic activities—were not debated as individual bills but were rapidly enacted through secondary legislation. Often, statutory instruments were submitted to Parliament only after the measures had already been implemented, rendering the debate a mere formality. While theoretically subject to rejection, in practice, it is nearly impossible to overturn a policy that is already in operation.

The welfare system follows a similar pattern. Eligibility thresholds, sanction mechanisms, and adjustments to amounts are often introduced under the guise of technical amendments, yet for those affected, they represent a critical juncture for maintaining their livelihoods. In terms of procedure, the time allocated for debate on these changes is disproportionate to their substantive impact.

The true exposure of systemic issues lies within immigration policy. The UK’s immigration rules are not legislated by Parliament on a case-by-case basis; rather, they are formulated by the Home Secretary under existing delegations and submitted to Parliament via ‘Statements of Changes’ before taking effect. These documents are neither bills nor statutory instruments in the conventional sense, yet they carry full legal force; Parliament cannot amend them line by line, nor is there an inherent mechanism for debate.

Upcoming changes to immigration policy will similarly follow this path. Residency thresholds, family reunion conditions, language requirements, and arrangements affecting the rights of BN(O) applicants can all be rewritten without comprehensive parliamentary scrutiny. Formally legal, yet in substance, they transfer highly political and personally impactful decisions to be handled unilaterally by the executive.

This arrangement is even more regressive in terms of oversight than typical secondary legislation. It is not bound by affirmative or negative procedures, and the political cost of rejection is exceedingly high, resulting in Parliament’s role being reduced to that of a bystander. The system has not been explicitly dismantled, but in practice, it has been hollowed out.

Proponents often defend this by citing efficiency, arguing that the government needs to respond quickly. However, efficiency has never been a justification for undermining democratic oversight. The real issue lies in the boundary: what constitutes execution details, and what are actual policy choices? When the latter is long packaged as the former, Parliament’s legislative function is supplanted by executive power.

The UK’s system has not collapsed overnight; rather, it has gradually morphed through repeated ‘reasonable arrangements.’ Secondary legislation was meant to be an auxiliary tool but has become a political shortcut; Statements of Changes were intended as technical pathways but now bear the weight of life-and-death decisions, including those of BN(O) applicants. When significant choices no longer require genuine discussion in Parliament, what remains of democracy is merely procedural legitimacy, devoid of substantive accountability.

British agriculture is facing an unavoidable dilemma: hard work is no longer yielding returns. Recent data reveals that approximately one-third of farms in the UK recorded no profits over the past year. This is not merely a case of individual mismanagement, but a structural issue. Rising costs for energy, fertilizers, and labor, coupled with increasingly erratic weather patterns, have kept agricultural product prices under the thumb of market forces and large retailers, leaving farmers at the most vulnerable point in the supply chain.

In this context, the notion that “if you focus on farming, everything will naturally improve” has lost its persuasive power. The issue lies not in the farmers’ diligence but in the outdated agricultural model itself, which can no longer provide a stable livelihood. Agrivoltaics is being seriously discussed not because it is trendy, but because it addresses a direct and urgent question: how can farms survive in a highly uncertain environment?

Agrivoltaics refers to the practice of farming while simultaneously generating stable income from solar energy on the same piece of land. There are various methods to implement this. For instance, solar panels can be installed in a conventional solar farm layout while also being used for grazing; or dual-sided solar panels can be erected in an east-west orientation, allowing livestock to move between them; or panels can be elevated to create a structure that allows for continued farming underneath, with agricultural machinery able to move freely. In some experimental projects, multiple approaches are employed simultaneously, depending on the terrain, crop types, and business models. The essence of agrivoltaics lies not in its appearance but in whether the land can simultaneously generate agricultural and energy value.

This effectively dismantles the myth of “land grabbing.” For many farms in the UK, the real scarcity is not land but predictable income. The role of agrivoltaics is to introduce a revenue stream that is not entirely synchronized with weather, harvests, or market prices. Solar power generation is based on long-term contracts, providing relatively stable cash flow that can support operations during poor harvests or price downturns.

In practical terms, photovoltaics and agriculture need not be in conflict. For crops, moderate shading can help reduce water evaporation and alleviate stress from extreme heat; for livestock, grazing under panels can simultaneously address weed management and land utilization issues. These are not abstract theories but experiences gradually accumulated in various regions across Europe.

More importantly, there is a transformation in the structure of agricultural risk. Traditional agriculture often places all variables on a single line; if weather patterns deviate or prices drop, the entire year’s earnings can be wiped out. Agrivoltaics provides farms with an additional revenue curve, allowing operations to be less entirely dependent on natural conditions and market sentiment. For farmers who have long struggled on the edge of break-even, this capacity to diversify risk is often more practical than any subsidy.

Looking at the UK as a whole, the energy transition also faces the reality of limited land and significant resistance. If agriculture and energy are pitted against each other, both will suffer. Agrivoltaics offers a way to reconfigure resources: it does not require choosing between food and energy but allows the same piece of land to serve multiple functions.

When one-third of farms are already unprofitable, the question is no longer whether to try new models, but whether they can afford to remain unchanged. The significance of agrivoltaics lies not in its perfection but in its indication of a direction—if British agriculture is to endure, the land itself must begin to learn to do more than one thing.

A piece of embroidery nearly 70 meters long and about half a meter wide carries the weight of a pivotal moment in English history. The Bayeux Tapestry is not a tapestry in the traditional sense; rather, it is a narrative embroidery stitched with woolen thread onto linen, completed in the late 11th century. It depicts the events surrounding the Norman Conquest from 1064 to 1066: Harold’s oath, William’s gathering of forces, and the decisive Battle of Hastings. The continuous imagery, accompanied by Latin inscriptions, serves almost as a medieval documentary.

Scholars generally believe that the tapestry was likely created in England and then sent to France, with funding possibly coming from Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, who was William’s half-brother. Its significance lies not in the absolute accuracy of every detail but in how it weaves together themes of legitimacy, religious symbolism, and the narrative of war into a cohesive story. For this reason, the Bayeux Tapestry is not only an artistic treasure but also a political text, remaining an indispensable source for the study of the Norman dynasty.

This national treasure, long housed in Normandy, France, is finally set to return to the UK in a special exhibition. The exhibition will take place at the British Museum in London, running from September 2026 to July 2027. The display will be segmented, adhering to stringent requirements for temperature, humidity, and low light to ensure that this nearly thousand-year-old artifact does not suffer structural damage during the exhibition. Visitors will not only be able to appreciate the overall narrative but also observe the embroidery’s lines, compositional arrangements, and traces left by historical repairs up close.

For many in Hong Kong and the UK, the Bayeux Tapestry is not entirely unfamiliar. It is one of the popular topics frequently featured in the Life in the UK Test, assessing candidates’ understanding of the decisive impact of the Norman Conquest on British history. The names and images that are usually encountered only in revision notes and mock exams will now materialize before them, evoking a sense of ‘seeing the real thing’ and bringing this historical episode from abstract knowledge back to tangible reality.

A practical tip for those planning to visit: become a member of the British Museum. Members can enter ticketed special exhibitions for free and without prior booking, which is a significant advantage for highly sought-after exhibitions. Additionally, members enjoy exclusive time slots with fewer crowds, making for a more relaxed viewing experience compared to public hours.

Moreover, the UK Treasury will provide a government guarantee of £800 million for this loan. This is not a generous arrangement but a practical necessity. Such a significant artifact would be nearly impossible to insure fully against all risks in the commercial market; any incident during transportation or exhibition could lead to liabilities that would nullify any insurance arrangement. The government guarantee serves as a final safeguard for the lending country, ensuring that cultural exchange does not stall due to financial realities.

The return of the Bayeux Tapestry is not merely an exhibition; it is an opportunity to re-understand the origins of Britain. History is not only inscribed in decrees and royal names but also woven into the fabric and threads. Standing before this long scroll, viewers see not just a war that has long ended but how power has been narrated, preserved, and passed down to the present day.

For many in Hong Kong, Rolls-Royce is synonymous with luxury automobiles; those with some knowledge of the aviation sector might recognize that the company also manufactures aircraft engines. However, it is only recently that many have discovered that the Rolls-Royce cars seen on the streets are no longer connected to the British Rolls-Royce. The true representative of British industrial strength is Rolls-Royce Holdings, a company that does not produce cars but is deeply involved in global aviation, energy, and nuclear industries.

This distinction itself highlights the issue. Rolls-Royce’s automotive division was sold off in 1998, and today’s Rolls-Royce Motor Cars belongs to the German BMW Group. The British Rolls-Royce has always focused on one thing: high-end engineering. It does not rely on sales volume for survival but thrives on reliability, longevity, and technological barriers.

While aviation engines remain the largest source of revenue, the business model has transformed. Today, engine sales are merely the beginning; the real profits come from service contracts that last for two to three decades. Through real-time data feedback and predictive maintenance, each engine operating in the air becomes a continuously generating asset. This ‘pay-per-flight-hour’ model stabilizes company revenue and makes it more challenging for airlines to switch suppliers.

Beyond aviation, Rolls-Royce plays a crucial role in the energy sector. Its large diesel and gas turbine systems are widely used in data centers, hospitals, ports, and critical infrastructure. In an era where AI and cloud computing are driving electricity demand, these systems are no longer just backup solutions but integral to energy security. Looking further ahead, small modular reactors (SMRs) hold strategic significance—not merely as demonstrations but as standardized, mass-produced, and exportable solutions.

To understand this company, one must look beyond business classifications and consider geographical divisions of labor. Derby serves as the heart of the group, overseeing engine design, assembly, testing, and global maintenance and data monitoring systems. Bristol is a hub for aviation research and development, responsible for core modules of turbofan engines, combustion systems, and future propulsion technologies, serving as the birthplace of the next generation of engines. Sheffield focuses on the most ‘hardcore’ aspects: advanced manufacturing and materials engineering, including nuclear-grade steel, powder metallurgy, and high-precision forging, which support both aviation and nuclear projects. The SMR initiative spans multiple sites across central and northern England, emphasizing the breakdown of nuclear power plants into systems that can be industrially produced.

Overseas, each location serves its purpose. Singapore is the maintenance and service hub for the Asia-Pacific region, while the United States and Germany handle energy and power systems, and Canada participates in nuclear engineering and energy technologies. Regardless of how far the supply chain extends, the critical design rights, system integration, and safety certifications remain firmly in the UK.

From the numbers, this is not a niche enterprise. In a complete fiscal year, the group’s revenue was approximately £17 billion, and it has returned to stable profitability; it employs over 40,000 people globally, many of whom are engineers and highly skilled technicians. These positions are not short-term contracts but require years of training and accumulated industrial capabilities.

What is most noteworthy about Rolls-Royce is not its brand but what it reveals about a reality: the UK has not lost its manufacturing base; it has merely exited low-end competition, concentrating resources on the most difficult industrial sectors to replicate globally. While cars are no longer its face, aircraft engines, energy systems, and nuclear engineering are the true foundations that allow the UK to remain at the forefront of the world.

In the UK, electricity prices have long been significantly higher than gas prices, often approaching four times the latter. At first glance, this may seem like a mere case of ‘expensive energy’, but when compared to other European countries, the issue becomes particularly pronounced. In most European nations, residential electricity prices are typically only about double that of gas, with the highest being close to three times; the UK’s long-standing rates of over three times, even nearing four, represent a clear anomaly rather than an international norm.

This discrepancy is not an inevitable result of energy itself, but rather the consequence of two structural factors: policy costs are almost exclusively added to electricity prices, and the electricity system’s heavy reliance on gas. This combination has caused the UK’s pricing structure to diverge increasingly from its European peers, thereby hindering energy transition efforts.

First, let us examine the structure of the bills. Taking recent price caps as an example, residential electricity costs around 28–30 pence per kilowatt-hour, while gas is about 7–8 pence. Of the electricity bill, approximately 20%–25% consists of policy costs, whereas gas incurs only about 5%. These costs include historical burdens from renewable energy subsidies, capacity markets, energy efficiency programs, smart meter rollouts, and welfare expenditures such as the Warm Home Discount. The key point is that these costs are primarily paid through electricity bills rather than general taxation, which systematically elevates electricity prices. If we assume that all policy costs were completely removed from energy bills, the price ratio of electricity to gas could drop to around 3.3 times. In other words, a significant portion of the nearly fourfold difference is merely a result of bill design.

However, even if the ratio were reduced to 3.3 times, the UK would still be higher than most European countries. The reason lies in a deeper structural issue: the UK’s excessive dependence on gas for electricity generation. Compared to continental Europe, the UK has virtually no large-scale hydropower, a historically low proportion of nuclear power, and is an electricity grid island with limited cross-border interconnection capabilities. France can rely on nuclear power, the Nordic countries have hydropower, and Germany and the Netherlands have dense interconnections with neighboring countries for mutual adjustment. When wind resources are insufficient or after sunset, the most common marginal power source in the UK remains gas generation.

Moreover, the marginal pricing mechanism means that the most expensive, yet still necessary, gas plants determine the entire market price for electricity. Even though the actual costs of wind, solar, or nuclear power are lower, retail electricity prices are still driven by gas prices. Other European countries employ similar mechanisms, but due to a more diverse energy mix and larger grids, their dependence on gas is not as concentrated, leading to naturally lower electricity prices.

The problem is that this pricing structure directly contradicts energy transition goals. The government encourages households to switch to heat pumps, electric vehicles, and electric cooking; yet, the energy bills clearly send the opposite signal—electricity is expensive, gas is cheap. For households, the payback period for investing in heat pumps is extended; for businesses, high electricity prices erode competitiveness; and for the entire system, the cleanest energy sources are penalized by price.

Looking ahead, the situation is not without room for improvement. As the UK continues to increase renewable energy, extend nuclear power supply, and strengthen storage and grid interconnections, the time during which gas serves as the marginal power source will gradually shorten. Simultaneously, if policy and welfare expenditures are removed from electricity prices, the ratio of electricity to gas could still be further reduced. However, the prerequisite is to acknowledge a reality: energy transition is not just a matter of construction, but also of pricing and institutional issues.

As long as electricity prices continue to bear excessive non-electric public responsibilities and gas continues to dominate electricity price formation, the UK will find itself simultaneously advocating for carbon reduction while using prices to obstruct transition. To enable genuine transformation, the first step is not mere slogans, but to allow prices to reflect reality.