Take a walk down almost any British high street, and you’re walking on the bones of the Victorian Empire. Not in a metaphorical sense—though there’s plenty of that too—but in the very real sense of cobbled sewers, cast iron water mains, gas lamps retrofitted to electricity, and railways that, while modernised, often trace the exact same lines carved into the countryside over 150 years ago.

Now glance around at the new housing estates, the freshly-dug fibre optic trenches, the plastic-coated electricity cabinets sprouting from pavements like polycarbonate mushrooms. Some of this work is less than five years old—yet it’s already being dug up, patched, replaced. A fresh cable laid over a collapsed duct. A broadband node shielded in duct tape to keep out rain. Another pothole filled with gravel and forgotten until the next freeze-thaw cycle opens it again.

It begs the question: why were our ancestors—armed with coal smoke and cast iron—better at building infrastructure that lasted than we are today with laser surveying, computer modelling, and an endless buffet of advanced materials?

Legacy in Brick and Iron

Much of the infrastructure laid down during the Victorian era still serves its purpose to this day. London’s sewer system, designed by Sir Joseph Bazalgette and completed in the 1860s, was built with such vision and over-engineering that it still forms the backbone of the capital’s waste network. At the time, Bazalgette famously doubled the diameter of the pipes “just in case” London grew bigger than projected. It did—and he was right.

The same applies to the country’s waterworks, bridges, and railways. Many of the bridges still carrying traffic today—like the Clifton Suspension Bridge or countless wrought-iron canal spans—are operating in line with their original Victorian specs, or close to them.

Even where Victorian engineering has required refurbishment, it’s often due not to failure, but to new demands that vastly exceed what the original builders could have foreseen. For instance, the London Underground’s original brick-lined tunnels weren’t flawed—they just weren’t designed to cope with modern heat output from air-conditioned trains. That they’re still safe after more than a century of constant use is testament enough.

Modern Methods, Short-Term Thinking

Contrast this with today’s approach to infrastructure: faster, cheaper, modular, and, above all, planned obsolescence. You’d be hard pressed to find a new utility installation intended to last more than a few decades—if that.

A typical plastic water main pipe today is guaranteed for 50 years, but that’s in ideal conditions. Many crack and leak within 20. Fibre broadband is laid shallow and quickly, often not buried below frost lines, and can require rework within five years. Plastic gas pipes—while safer in terms of leaks—are vulnerable to root intrusion and environmental movement.

Much of this comes down to materials. We no longer use cast iron or terracotta in major infrastructure projects. These are heavy, expensive, and cumbersome. Instead, we use plastics and composites: light, flexible, and cheap. But they’re also UV-sensitive, brittle in cold, and difficult to repair without full replacement. Once cracked, many modern materials fail catastrophically—unlike stone or metal, which degrade slowly and visibly.

It’s not just materials, either. Budget cycles, political terms, and private sector profit models all push for just enough. Enough to last ten years. Enough to avoid liability. Enough to tick a regulatory box. The idea of building a sewer or a pumping station to serve generations is considered both financially and ideologically extravagant.

Cost vs. Value

So why did the Victorians build to last, and why don’t we?

One reason is philosophical. The Victorians were often building for legacy. Their names—Brunel, Stephenson, Bazalgette—were tied to their works. Failures would be visible, often scandalous. The British Empire was built on permanence, and infrastructure was part of that narrative.

Today, projects are delivered by anonymous contractors, built to spec, and handed over. Political cycles mean infrastructure decisions are made for five-year outcomes, not 100-year utility. The lowest bidder usually wins, and the incentive is to finish fast and move on—not to over-engineer.

Ironically, this costs us more in the long term. The upkeep and patchwork repair of modern utilities often outstrips the original install cost within a decade. Repeated dig-ups damage roads, increase congestion, and create environmental waste. But these are deferred costs—paid by future budgets, future taxpayers, future governments.

The Environmental Cost of Disposability

In an era of climate awareness and sustainability drives, the throwaway nature of modern infrastructure stands out as particularly misguided. A Victorian brick sewer, once built, can be left alone for 150 years. A modern plastic sewer may need to be dug up multiple times within one human lifetime.

And every time we dig, we emit. Every replacement pipe has to be manufactured, shipped, installed, and disposed of. Every truck and digger burns fuel. Every removed section becomes landfill or low-grade recycled waste.

There is irony in building “green” infrastructure with short-term materials.

What Can We Learn from the Past?

This isn’t to suggest we should revert wholesale to Victorian methods. Cast iron is brittle. Stone isn’t always practical. But their mindset—of designing beyond the minimum, of anticipating the growth of society, and of understanding infrastructure as a generational investment—is one we could sorely use today.

In fact, there’s a growing movement of engineers and urban planners calling for “infrastructure resilience” and “designing for longevity”. It’s slower. It’s more expensive up front. But over 50, 100, 150 years? It’s the only sustainable choice.

The Victorians didn’t have better materials. They had better ambition.

Sidebar: Numbers That Last

• Bazalgette’s London sewer system: Built 1858–1865. Still operational. Expected to serve another 50+ years with upgrades.
• Clifton Suspension Bridge: Opened 1864. Still carries modern traffic.
• Victorian cast iron water mains: Some still in use in London and Manchester, dating from the 1870s.
• Modern plastic piping: Expected lifespan 20–50 years depending on soil conditions.

Final Thought

In chasing cost-efficiency, we’ve forgotten durability. In worshipping innovation, we’ve overlooked proven wisdom. Perhaps it’s time to revisit the question: are we building for the future—or just for the next quarterly report?