Department of Transport boss warned ministers about risk Garden Bridge posed to taxpayer five months ago

Getting a bit sick of this artist's impression to be honest, lads. Image: Heatherwick.

Since April 2012, Philip Rutnam has been the permanent secretary – that is, the head – of the UK Department for Transport (DfT). In that capacity, he's also the “accounting officer”, responsible for ensuring that the department achieves good value for money.

If he's worried that a project will cost too much money, or provide too little benefit, he's entitled to write to his minister to request direction. In this way he can both formally set out his concerns, and – let's be honest about this – make sure it’s not his fault if it all goes tits up.

The reason I mention all this is because, last May, Philip Rutnam did just that. The letter in question concerns London's proposed Garden Bridge, which will be a much loved addition to the skyline or an embarrassing waste of time and money, depending on whose side you're on.

Rutnam begins his letter by explaining why he's writing it in the first place, and how the Garden Bridge came to be DfT's problem. Chancellor George Osborne promised to commit £30m to the project in December 2013, “subject to there being a satisfactory business case for the project".

Rutnam makes clear he was always cynical – “After examining the business case for the project in summer 2014, my judgment was that the transport benefits of the project were limited and came with a relatively high level of risk to value for money”. But, he adds “on the balance of probabilities I considered that this risk was acceptable”.

The problem is that the risk kept increasing, because the amount of money DfT had to make available before construction started – money that would, if the project collapsed, be lost – kept on increasing, too. Why? Because the Garden Bridge Trust (GBT), the charity running the scheme, asked for it. Here's the relevant passage:

One important control on the DfT's contribution is a cap on the amount that can be spent prior to construction. This was originally set at £8.2m, but it has since twice been agreed to increase the cap following requests from the Garden Bridge Trust, and it now stands at a little under £13.5m.

The Trust has now asked for a further increase in its permitted preconstruction spending of up to £15m (across DfT and Tfl combined). This is to underwrite the potential cancellation liabilities that it now will face if the project does not proceed. The Trustees have been advised that under charity law they could become personally liable for the Trust's unmet financial obligations if they have failed to manage risk prudently.

So – to protect the GBT’s trustees, the trust asked DfT and Transport for London (TfL) to underwrite their liabilities. Except that TfL then asked to be excused, too:

Following recent discussions with the Mayor of London, DfT has been asked to increase its pre-construction exposure by up to £15m to underwrite the potential cancellation liabilities.

And, Rutnam warned, for all sorts of reasons – GBT’s failure to acquire land on the South Bank, the need to raise another £40m in private donations – “the probability of these liabilities materialising is not negligible”.

The result:

If we increase our pre-construction commitment as requested and the bridge does not proceed, there would be cancellation costs to the public sector of up to £15m. This is in addition to sunk costs of around £13.5m committed by DfT and £22m by TfL. In this scenario, around 90% of the cost of the cancelled bridge would have been provided by the public sector funders, and DfT specifically would have provided up to a half of the total amount spent. In my judgment, this represents a disproportionate level of exposure for the Exchequer to the risk of failure on a charity-led project that was intended to be funded largely by private donations.

Look past the civil service jargon, and this is quietly damning. Rutnam is saying exactly what the Garden Bridge's critics have been saying since the project began: that, even though its transport benefits are limited, the cost of the project was  falling disproportionately on the taxpayer.


And yet, ministers decided the project would still go ahead. Go figure.

We approached the Garden Bridge Trust for comment. It said it couldn't comment on internal government communications.

This morning, the National Audit Office, a government spending watchdog, published its long-awaited report on the  project. It found that there is significant risk the bridge would never be built, and the DfT stood to lose as much as £22.5m if that happened.

And if the project isn't cancelled?

If the project continues, it is possible that the government will be approached for extra funding should the Trust face a funding shortfall. The project has faced cost increases and delays to the schedule. The pattern of behaviour outlined in this report is one in which the Trust has repeatedly approached the government to release more of its funding for pre-construction activities when it encounters challenges. The Department, in turn, has agreed to the Trust’s requests.

The Garden Bridge Trust is commenting on this one. Here’s the first paragraphs of its statement:

The Garden Bridge is a visionary project, connecting the South Bank with the North Bank, Covent Garden, the city and beyond.  It is the first of its kind, a pedestrian walkway through a garden of 270 trees, hedging, shrubs and plants.  It is an asset funded primarily by the private sector and bequeathed to London, enabling 9,000 commuters each weekday to cross the Thames without having to share a Bridge with traffic.  It will be a fantastic place for people to visit for free, 365 days a year.

It is right that there is scrutiny of the project because it involves public money and transparency is good for us at an uncertain time.

Draw your own conclusions.

Jonn Elledge is the editor of CityMetric. He is on Twitter, far too much, as @jonnelledge.

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What other British cities can learn from the Tyne & Wear Metro

A Metro train at Monument. Image: Callum Cape/Wikipedia.

Ask any person on the street what they know about Newcastle, and they’ll list a few things. They’ll mention the accent; they’ll mention the football; they’ll mention brown ale and Sting and Greggs. They might even mention coal or shipbuilding, and then the conversation will inevitably turn political, and you’ll wish you hadn’t stopped to ask someone about Newcastle at all.

They won’t, however, mention the Tyne and Wear Metro, because they haven’t probably heard of it – which is a shame, because the Metro is one of the best things the north-east has to offer.

Two main issues plague suburban trains. One is frequency. Suburban rail networks often run on poor frequency; to take Birmingham for an example, most of its trains operate at 30-minute intervals.

The other is simplicity. Using Birmingham again, the entire system is built around New Street, leading to a very simple network. Actually, that’s not quite true: if you’re coming from Leamington Spa, Warwick, Stourbridge, Solihull or a host of other major minor (minor major?) towns, you don’t actually connect to New Street – no, you don’t even connect to the ENTIRE SYSTEM BUILT AROUND NEW STREET except at Smethwick Galton Bridge, miles away in the western suburbs, where the physical tracks don’t even connect – they pass over each other. Plus, what on earth is the blue line to Walsall doing?

An ageing map of the West Midlands rail network: click any of the images in this article to expand them. Image: Transport for the West Midlands/Centro.

But Newcastle has long been a hub of railway activity. Tragically, the north-east has fewer active railway lines than any other region of the UK. Less tragically, this is because Tyne and Wear has the Metro.


The Metro was formed in 1980 from a somewhat eccentric collection of railways, including freight-only lines, part of the old Tyneside Electrics route, underground tunnelling through the city centre, track-sharing on the National Rail route to Sunderland, and lines closed after the Beeching axe fell in the early 1960s.

From this random group of railway lines, the Metro has managed to produce a very simple network of two lines. Both take a somewhat circuitous route, the Yellow line especially, because it’s literally a circle for much of its route; but they get to most of the major population centres. And frequency is excellent – a basic 5 trains an hour, with 10 tph on the inner core, increasing at peak times (my local station sees 17 tph each way in the morning peak).

Fares are simple, too: there are only three zones, and they’re generally good value, whilst the Metro has been a national leader in pay-as-you-go technology (PAYG), with a tap-in, tap-out system. The Metro also shares many characteristics of European light rail systems – for example, it uses the metric system (although this will doubtless revert to miles and chains post-Brexit, whilst fares will be paid in shillings).

 

The Metro network. Image: Nexus.

Perhaps most importantly, the Metro has been the British pioneer for the Karlsruhe model, in which light rail trains share tracks with mainline services. This began in 2002 with the extension to Sunderland, and, with new bi-mode trains coming in the next ten years, the Metro could expand further around the northeast. The Sheffield Supertram also recently adopted this model with its expansion to Rotherham; other cities, like Manchester, are considering similar moves.

However, these cities aren’t considering what the Metro has done best – amalgamated local lines to allow people to get around a city easily. Most cities’ rail services are focused on those commuters who travel in from outside, instead of allowing travel within a city; there’s no coherent system of corridors allowing residents to travel within the limits of a city.

The Metro doesn’t only offer lessons to big cities. Oxford, for example, currently has dire public transport, focused on busy buses which share the same congested roads as private vehicles; the city currently has only two rail stations near the centre (red dots).

Image: Google.

But it doesn’t need to be this way. For a start, Oxford is a fairly lateral city, featuring lots of north-south movements, along broadly the same route the railway line follows. So, using some existing infrastructure and reinstating other parts, Oxford’s public transport could be drastically improved. With limited engineering work, new stations could be built on the current track (blue dots on the map below; with more extensive work, the Cowley branch could be reinstated, too (orange dots). Electrify this new six-station route and, hey presto, Oxford has a functioning metro system; the short length of the route also means that few trains would be necessary for a fequent service.

Image: Google.

Next up: Leeds. West Yorkshire is a densely populated area with a large number of railway lines. Perfect! I hear you cry. Imperfect! I cry in return. Waaaaaah! Cry the people of Leeds, who, after two cancelled rapid transit schemes, have had enough of imaginative public transport projects.

Here’s a map of West Yorkshire:

Image: Google.

Here’s a map of West Yorkshire’s railway network:

 ​

Image: West Yorkshire Metro.

The problem is that all of the lines go to major towns, places like Dewsbury, Halifax or Castleford, which need a mainline connection due to their size. Options for a metro service are limited.

But that’s not to say they’re non-existent. For example, the Leeds-Bradford Interchange line passes through densely populated areas; and anyway, Bradford Interchange is a terminus, so it’s poorly suited to service as a through station, as it’s currently being used.

Image: Google.

With several extra stops, this line could be converted to a higher frequency light rail operation. It would then enter an underground section just before Holbeck; trains from Halifax could now reach Leeds via the Dewsbury line. The underground section would pass underneath Leeds station, therefore freeing up capacity at the mainline station, potentially simplifying the track layout as well.

 

Image: Google.

Then you have the lines from Dewsbury and Wakefield, which nearly touch here:

Image: Google.

By building a chord, services from Morley northwards could run into Leeds via the Wakefield line, leaving the Dewsbury line north of Morley open for light rail operation, probably with an interchange at the aforementioned station.

Image: Google.

The Leeds-Micklefield section of the Leeds-York line could also be put into metro service, by building a chord west of Woodlesford over the River Aire and connecting at Neville Hill Depot (this would involve running services from York and Selby via Castleford instead):

The path of the proposed chord, in white. Image: Google.

With a section of underground track in Leeds city centre, and an underground line into the north-east of Leeds – an area completely unserved by rail transport at present – the overall map could look like this, with the pink and yellow dots representing different lines:

Et voila! Image: Google.

Leeds would then have a light-rail based public transport system, with potential for expansion using the Karlsruhe model. It wouldn’t even be too expensive, as it mainly uses existing infrastructure. (Okay, the northeastern tunnel would be pricey, but would deliver huge benefits for the area.)

Why aren’t more cities doing this? Local council leaders often talk about introducing “metro-style services” – but they avoid committing to real metro projects because they’re more expensive than piecemeal improvements to the local rail system, and they’re often more complex to deliver (with the lack of space in modern-day city centres, real metro systems need tunnels).

But metro systems can provide huge benefits to cities, with more stops, a joined-up network, and simpler fares. More cities should follow the example of the Tyne and Wear Metro.