Leeds, a city with a long-standing desire for a tram system, has been on a rollercoaster of promises and delays for decades. The story of Leeds' pursuit of a tram is a fascinating one, filled with political twists, public enthusiasm, and a persistent sense of 'Field of Dreams' optimism. The city's journey towards a mass transit system is not just about the physical infrastructure but also about the cultural and economic transformation it could bring. Personally, I think this story is a perfect example of how local ambition can be stifled by central government bureaucracy, and how a city's desire for progress can be met with a series of setbacks. What makes this particularly fascinating is the interplay between local and national politics, and the impact of these decisions on the lives of everyday citizens. The city's history with trams dates back to the 1950s, when double-decker trams ran through the city centre and up leafy tracks. However, these were canned in 1959, and Leeds has been without a mass transit system ever since. This has left the city with wide roads, partly the inheritance of 1970s town planning for a booming 'motorway city'. The M621 flanking Elland Road is now seen as having cut off the south of the city from prosperity. The latest iteration of the tram plan, West Yorkshire Mass Transit, aims to integrate a network of buses around two tram lines, one through south Leeds and another linking neighbouring Bradford. Development money totalling £200m has been given, and future funding available from £2.1bn allocated to the city region. However, the government has insisted that West Yorkshire adhere to its strict process, rather than what the mayor, Tracy Brabin, likes to call her 'trailblazer approach'. This means working up a fresh business case, proving the need for trams not buses, and then reheating consultations. This will push the opening date for any tram back into the late 2030s. In my opinion, this delay is a testament to the challenges of public infrastructure projects in the UK. The process is slow, bureaucratic, and often seems to be more about ticking boxes than delivering real change. The fact that Leeds, the biggest city in Europe without a mass transit system, has to go through this rigmarole is a source of frustration for many. The city's public transport system is currently reliant on buses, which are often unreliable and overcrowded. This is particularly evident on match days, when most people walk the two miles from the centre to the stadium. The proposed tram line, which will probably 'float over or under the motorway, a bit like the Docklands Light Railway', is seen as a solution to this problem. However, not all are convinced. Some see the delay as proof of serious commitment, while others see it as a familiar story of eternal delay. The latest scheme was in itself a sop for the loss of HS2, the planned north-eastern leg of the high-speed rail network linking London, Manchester and Leeds. Since then, there has been a lot of process, proposals for a whole network, and consultation. To be saying we're not yet in a position to go ahead smacks of a lack of real commitment. The root cause, according to Tom Forth, a co-founder of the Data City company information group in Leeds, is that the Department for Transport is based in London, the Treasury is based in London, and the political decision was taken in London. There needs to be local tax-raising. If we had devolution, we would get this stuff done. The comparison with France, which has built tram systems paid for and decided locally, is a stark one. Do we believe that, even if the numbers don't look compelling on a benefit-cost ratio, that it would actually change Leeds, it would change connectivity in the region? There has to be an element of 'build-it-and-they-will-come', Field of Dreams stuff. This raises a deeper question: do we believe in the transformative power of infrastructure? The Heathrow third runway is more explicable, as lots of people don't want it built. But Leeds really does want the tram. The Leeds United investor and director Pete Lowy is a vocal backer. Work to expand the stadium by 15,000 seats is under way, and mass transit will have a major bearing on how they develop the surrounding site – potentially bringing in £1bn of investment to build 2,500 new homes, work, retail and leisure spaces. For Brabin, trams are 'more attractive, they take more people, they deliver more jobs and growth. They're more reliable. I promised tram, and tram is what we're going to get'. However, not all of the Leeds public appears convinced of the need for mass transit. A builder leaving the Sweet Street site says 'Leeds is not big enough for a tram. It's not like Manchester; that's massive'. Gladys Crosby, studying to be a personal trainer, is walking home to Holbeck. A direct link to the A&E across the city would help, she says, but she does not hold out much hope: 'My whole life they've said it's going to get better – I'm 24 now'. Over in Armley, the inner city side of Reeves' Leeds West constituency primed to benefit from the Bradford line, an elderly couple is waiting for an Uber. Would they welcome the tram? 'Ooh yes', she says. But the man says: 'They closed down the year I was born. It'll never happen'. At the far end of the second planned line, Henri Murison, the chief executive of the Northern Powerhouse Partnership, is standing on a windswept road bridge above Bradford interchange, pointing out a new building. A large clinic is the start of what he hopes will be a swathe of further urban regeneration, the city's South Gateway project, prompted by the tram. In Murison's reading, the delay is welcome: doing it by the letter of Treasury process with ministerial backing makes it less likely to meet the fate of the 1990s Supertram. The pledge of 'spades in the ground' by 2028, for preparatory works of some kind, remains, Brabin says. Until then, the team will focus their energy on improving existing bus services. Buses will come under public control in 2027. According to Rob Johnson of the Centre for Cities, right now 'the single most consequential thing Leeds could do is to increase frequencies on its existing bus services'. In a study he found less than half of the city's 800,000 residents, about 390,000, were well connected, and better buses alone would connect more than new trams. But Lewis and Brabin argue the point of the tram is not only to improve existing journeys but to underpin massive development. For Brabin, trams are 'more attractive, they take more people, they deliver more jobs and growth. They're more reliable. I promised tram, and tram is what we're going to get'. In conclusion, the story of Leeds' pursuit of a tram is a fascinating one, filled with political twists, public enthusiasm, and a persistent sense of 'Field of Dreams' optimism. It is a story of a city's desire for progress, and the challenges it faces in delivering that progress. It raises deeper questions about the role of infrastructure in urban transformation, and the balance between local and national politics in delivering that change. It is a story that, for now, remains in the realm of dreams, but one that continues to inspire and frustrate in equal measure.
