Adapted by:
Miguel Jorge
WriterJournalist. I've spent more than half of my life writing about technology, science, and culture. Before landing here, I worked at Telefónica, Prisa, Globus Comunicación, Hipertextual, and Gizmodo. I'm part of Webedia's cross-section team.
Karen Alfaro
WriterCommunications professional with a decade of experience as a copywriter, proofreader, and editor. As a travel and science journalist, I've collaborated with several print and digital outlets around the world. I'm passionate about culture, music, food, history, and innovative technologies.
At the beginning of March, Neom was back in the news. Satellite imagery from Google showed significant expansion at its port, part of Oxagon, the futuristic industrial section of Neom. Once again, exaggeration surrounded a project that was born exaggerated and may die the same way.
Dreams and chaos. Neom aims to transform Saudi Arabia into a global technology and business hub, but it faces serious challenges that have cast doubt on its viability.
Despite $50 billion already invested, runaway costs, massive delays, and a management model riddled with illusions and financial obfuscation have turned this megaproject into a monumental challenge for Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman.
A stumbling start. The high-profile inauguration in October on Sindalah, attended by celebrities such as Will Smith, Tom Brady, and Alicia Keys, now carries a different perception. The reason? The project masked a less glamorous reality: construction was incomplete, the budget had tripled, and the crown prince was unexpectedly absent—an absence many saw as a sign of disapproval.
Weeks later, a new CEO took over Neom in a desperate attempt to turn the project around.
Futuristic promises vs. reality. Neom’s creators envisioned it as a futuristic city with sci-fi elements, including The Line, a pair of 105-mile-long, 1,640-foot-high skyscrapers (later cut from the budget); Trojena, a desert ski resort; Oxagon, a floating business and industrial district; and Sindalah, a luxury resort on the Red Sea.
The reality is starkly different. Sindalah, delayed by more than three years, has yet to open its hotels and golf course. Meanwhile, Neom has scaled back its first phase, threatening its ability to attract the population needed to justify the investment. Costs have also soared: Neom is now projected to cost $8.8 billion by 2080—more than 25 times Saudi Arabia’s annual budget. Compounding this are the logistical hurdles of building in the desert, where basic infrastructure such as labor, roads, ports, and electricity remains scarce.
The financial disaster becomes clear. A more than 100-page internal report reviewed by The Wall Street Journal revealed that Neom executives, with help from consulting firm McKinsey & Co., altered financial estimates to justify cost increases. The report found “evidence of deliberate manipulation” of figures to hide actual spending.
At Trojena, for example, when costs ballooned by $10 billion, executives didn’t cut expenses. Instead, they inflated revenue projections, artificially raising hotel and luxury camp rates. One projected rate for a boutique hotel rose from $489 to $1,866 per night. Luxury “glamping” surged from $216 to $704 per night. According to the audit, McKinsey, which collects more than $130 million annually in fees from Neom, validated these projections after another consultant refused to do so.
The role of the prince. The project has also launched a massive palace for its mastermind. The crown prince has been directly involved in major decisions, overseeing architectural designs and pushing ideas inspired by video games and sci-fi films. Some of his proposals include “zero-gravity” architecture that defies physics, “The Candelabra”—a 30-story skyscraper suspended upside down from a bridge—and floating theaters between skyscrapers, along with an amusement park nearly 1,000 feet above sea level.
When engineers suggested reducing The Line’s height to cut costs, bin Salman rejected the idea, insisting on maintaining the 1,650-foot height. In another instance, when Thom Mayne, The Line’s original architect, raised concerns over excessive costs, Neom executives blocked his access to the prince.
Cuts and crises. That was the result. With costs spiraling, the Saudi government revised timelines and expectations. It reduced The Line’s initial construction from 6.2 miles to just about a mile. An 18-mile rail tunnel was scrapped due to excessive cost overruns. The goal of completing the first section by 2030 has now been pushed back to 2034.
Despite these setbacks, the prince and Saudi Arabia’s sovereign wealth fund remain committed. However, they’ve begun describing Neom as a “generational investment” rather than a key driver of immediate growth for Vision 2030.
Time will tell. But as of now, Neom is shaping up as a case study in unrealistic planning, unchecked spending, and lack of financial oversight. The futuristic desert city envisioned as bin Salman’s “civilizational revolution” appears caught between fantasy and reality. Despite billions invested, its success remains highly uncertain.
Image | Neom
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