Hard to believe, but it was indeed the United Kingdom — and more specifically England — that ran the very first modern train in 1825. A steam locomotive reliable enough to carry passengers on a real commercial line. A major invention that would change the course of history, accelerate the Industrial Revolution, and forever transform the way humans move.
And yet today, the UK does not have a single national high-speed rail line (in the strict sense of the term: 320 km/h and above, like in France, Spain, Italy or Japan). Yes, HS1 does exist — the Eurostar line. But it serves only to connect London to the Channel Tunnel. In other words, it doesn’t cross the country — it leaves it.
This is where the story of HS2 begins: a project sold as a revolution, a brand-new 530-kilometre network designed to link northern and southern England, with speeds of up to 400 km/h. A titanic project that became a financial, political and social black hole, with more than €100 billion potentially sunk. In this article, we take a closer look at this incredible fiasco — the British version of high-speed rail gone wrong.
And if you’d rather experience this investigation in full immersion, you can watch our dedicated video or listen to it in audio format (on our podcast Je t’offre un rail?, the podcast that will make you addicted to trains):
Before getting to the heart of the matter, let’s ask the question that always surprises people: why has England never developed a true high-speed rail network on its territory? Contrary to what one might think, it wasn’t for lack of ambition. For decades, British engineers chose to improve the existing network rather than build a parallel one, as France or Japan did. And at the time, that choice made sense.
In the 1970s, the UK introduced the High Speed Train, the InterCity 125, capable of running at 200 km/h on conventional tracks — a record at the time. The train became a national symbol, and many believed there was no need for dedicated high-speed lines.
The British territory, in any case, does not offer the same conditions as France: where France can draw a straight 50-kilometre line, England has to contend with continuous urbanisation, tightly packed villages, protected areas, and a historic network that already occupies the natural corridors.
Demographics also matter: England is one of the most densely populated territories in Europe, with 56 million inhabitants — 9 million in London alone. By comparison, France has 10 million more people, but spread over a territory nearly five times larger.
In such a confined space, the rail network quickly comes under pressure — especially since it is old. Let’s not forget: it is the oldest railway network in the world.
Another specific feature must be added: the privatisation of rail in the 1990s, which completely fragmented the system. One company for infrastructure, multiple operators for trains, contracts that change regularly… carrying a long-term national project becomes extremely difficult. We’ve actually published a full breakdown of the rail privatisation fiasco in Great Britain, which you can discover here.
And eventually, the network hits a physical limit.
The best example of saturation is the West Coast Main Line, the historic route linking London to Birmingham, Manchester, Liverpool and Glasgow. It carries more than 35 million passengers per year. And every type of train runs on it: long-distance, regional, suburban, freight. The network is full. It simply cannot absorb further traffic growth.
This is precisely where HS2 appears as a solution: a completely new line, independent from the existing network, built for high speed, and designed to relieve current lines by freeing up capacity.
In 2009, Andrew Adonis, Transport Secretary under the Labour government, proposed a new line: a “Y” connecting London to Birmingham, then extending towards Manchester and Leeds.
The project was meant to deliver more capacity, better reliability, and improved connections between major northern cities — a long-standing demand for decades.
A rare occurrence in the UK: the following Conservative government chose to support the project. HS2 was born at a time when all political camps agreed on one thing — the existing network would not hold much longer, and action was urgently needed.
In 2012, HS2 was officially launched. The initial budget was enormous, but in line with other European projects: £32.7 billion (just over €40 billion) to build the entire Y-shaped line to Manchester and Leeds. By comparison, in France, the 340-kilometre LGV Sud Europe Atlantique (Tours–Bordeaux) cost around €7.8 billion. The stakes were different: HS2 was meant to free up 30–40% of capacity on certain corridors and turn Birmingham into a major hub for northern England. But this dream would quickly turn into a nightmare…
From the outset, everyone knew the project would be expensive and controversial. But no one imagined just how much. To understand why, one key element must be kept in mind: for more than ten years, the UK has increasingly struggled to deliver major national infrastructure projects. In short: political instability, shifting priorities, opposing visions between London and the North… not to mention Brexit and inflation, which added another layer of administrative and economic chaos. In this context, building a major land-use project becomes an obstacle course — especially when it involves a high-speed line stretching hundreds of kilometres.
As studies became more detailed, the numbers skyrocketed: more complex soil conditions, groundwater to protect, protected natural areas, structures to redesign. Meanwhile, inflation rose, materials and labour became more expensive, and Brexit disrupted supply chains.
Every year of delay added several billion to the bill. In ten years, HS2 went from “very expensive” to “out of control”, quickly reaching three times its original budget.
As the line crossed inhabited areas, demands multiplied: a tunnel instead of a cutting here, a completely redesigned viaduct there, elsewhere a tunnel entrance disguised as a fake barn. Taken individually, each concession seemed reasonable. Multiplied over hundreds of kilometres, they became impossible to manage.
The internal organisation turned into a bureaucratic monster: public company, major construction groups, dozens of engineering firms, consultants, subcontractors… A slow, highly hierarchical machine where every decision goes up, comes back down, gets audited, then reassessed.
Studies were redone, approvals took months, delays piled up. And the more costs increased, the less politically defensible the project became. The result? It was cut to pieces.
Conservative governments eventually lost patience. First, they abandoned the branch to Leeds, officially to reinvest in the conventional network. In reality, this buried the promise made to the North East.
Then, a few years later, the extension to Manchester was also scrapped — even though this was the section expected to deliver the strongest economic impact. The original Y-shaped vision was reduced to a small London–Birmingham line, stripped of what gave it meaning.
Last twist: Euston station. HS2 trains were supposed to arrive in the heart of London, just two stations from the British Museum. Works had already begun: neighbourhoods demolished, residents expropriated.
Faced with budget overruns, the government put Euston on hold. Trains will instead terminate at Old Oak Common, nearly 10 kilometres from the city centre. Passengers will have to transfer to conventional trains or the Underground. Part of the promised time savings disappears.
At this stage, HS2 no longer has any economic logic. The project was designed as a whole — but once cut apart, it becomes an isolated, exorbitantly expensive fragment, unable to fulfil its mission.
For more than ten years, HS2 carved up the English countryside with massive construction sites: farmland purchased or requisitioned, homes demolished, roads diverted, centuries-old trees cut down, valleys dug out or filled in.
In Buckinghamshire, Warwickshire or the Chiltern Hills, residents saw excavators arrive even though the final route was not yet secured. Many say they didn’t just lose a house — they lost an identity, a way of life sometimes built over generations.
Others were forced to sell quickly in a market paralysed by uncertainty, with compensation deemed insufficient. And for some local residents, the worst part is this: a large share of the expropriated or transformed land will ultimately never see a train pass through it.
HS2 was supposed to be an industrial engine: massive orders, long-term visibility, job stability in engineering, civil works, rolling stock manufacturing.
When the route was cut back, the impact was immediate: fewer lines, therefore fewer trains to order, fewer contracts, fewer infrastructures. And ultimately, a brutal shock for the British rail industry.
The most emblematic example is the Alstom plant in Derby — a historic site, one of the oldest in the world still in operation — threatened with underutilisation or even temporary closure, despite having been expected to benefit from HS2.
For years, HS2 was supposed to prove that the country was still capable of delivering major infrastructure projects in the 21st century. Today, it sends the opposite signal: a political system struggling to arbitrate, to commit to long-term choices, and to carry them through.
And this concern goes beyond rail. It weighs on all land-use and infrastructure projects. The situation is all the more sensitive as the country appears to be gradually shifting back towards a more state-led model after decades of fragmented privatisation. In principle, taking back control may seem coherent. But one question remains: how can trust be placed in public decision-makers who failed to maintain a clear vision for HS2 — and failed to protect those who paid the price?
The story of HS2 is less about the failure of a high-speed line than about a country’s failure to commit to a long-term project. A project of this scale cannot survive constant zigzags — it needs a clear, stable direction, carried by several successive governments.
HS2, in its original form, will likely never return. But that does not mean the idea of high-speed rail is dead in the UK. The real question is not “restart HS2 or not”, but rather: what collective story does the country want to write for the next 30 years of its rail network? Shorter but better-targeted high-speed lines? A deep modernisation of existing routes? Regional “mini-HS2s” instead of a single grand national gesture?
To turn things around, the method itself must change. Creating a framework where residents know what to expect, where local authorities can plan, where industry has visibility, and where every euro spent tells a story that people can understand. So that the country that ran the very first commercial steam train two centuries ago can finally decide what direction to give its trains.
Issue du monde de la communication et des médias, Sophie est Responsable éditoriale chez HOURRAIL ! depuis août 2024. Elle est notamment derrière le contenu éditorial du site ainsi que La Locomissive (de l'inspiration voyage bas carbone et des bons plans, un jeudi sur deux, gratuitement dans ta boîte mail !).
Convaincue que les changements d’habitude passent par la transformation de nos imaginaires, elle s’attache à montrer qu’il est possible de voyager autrement, de manière plus consciente, plus lente et plus joyeuse. Son objectif : rendre le slow travel accessible à toutes et tous, à travers des astuces, des décryptages et surtout, de nouveaux récits.
