Desert Dream or Nightmare?
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Podcast Personality
Paul Grant Truesdell | Founder & CEO
J.D., AIF, CLU, ChFC, RFC
The Truesdell Companies
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Rough Notes
NEOM: Saudi Arabia's Desert Dream (or Nightmare?)
Let me tell you about NEOM, the crown jewel of Saudi Arabia's Vision 2030 initiative. As someone who's been analyzing this project since its inception, I have to say it's absolutely fascinating—and by fascinating, I mean it's like watching someone try to build a space elevator using Legos and superglue.
The centerpiece of NEOM is "The Line," a concept so outlandish it makes Las Vegas look subtle. Picture this: a 106-mile-long city stretching across the desert, rising 500 meters tall (that's about the height of the Empire State Building), all enclosed in mirrored glass. It's as if someone took Manhattan, melted it down, and stretched it out like taffy. Who wouldn't want to live in a giant mirror-covered hallway where you can see your neighbors for miles?
This mega-city was designed to house 9 million people in what they call a "traditional-free" environment. No traditional buildings, no traditional streets, no traditional common sense! Just a massive straight line cutting through the desert. They promised flying taxis, robot maids, artificial weather, and even robot dinosaurs—because apparently regular cities with, you know, shapes other than straight lines are just too boring for Saudi Arabia's future.
Now let's talk money, because that's where things get really entertaining. The initial budget for The Line was a mere $200 billion—pocket change if you're sitting on the world's largest oil reserves. But in a plot twist that surprised absolutely no one except perhaps the Saudi finance ministry, that number has now ballooned to an estimated $8.8 TRILLION. That's trillion with a "T." To put that in perspective, that's about 25 times Saudi Arabia's entire annual budget! But hey, who's counting zeros when you've got oil money, right?
The best part is that after spending over $50 billion so far, they've had to scale back their ambitions just a teensy bit. Instead of building the full 106-mile line, they're now aiming to complete just 1.5 miles by 2030. That's like promising to build the entire Interstate Highway System but delivering only enough road to connect a Starbucks to a Walmart. Progress!
Even this dramatically reduced version would equal "three times all the office buildings in midtown Manhattan." It would require "a significant portion of the world's available steel and glass." I'm sure global supply chains won't mind setting aside most of their materials for one project in the desert. No problem at all! The global construction industry was just sitting around waiting for a challenge anyway.
So what have they actually accomplished so far with all this money and fanfare? They've managed to... dig a hole in the desert. But it's a very expensive hole, so there's that. They've also produced some truly spectacular CGI videos showing what NEOM might look like if physics and economics were optional disciplines.
The promotional materials for NEOM are something else. They show people zipping around in flying cars, swimming in crystal-clear waters that are somehow in the middle of the desert, and enjoying robot dinosaurs in futuristic amusement parks. There's even talk of an artificial moon and beaches with glow-in-the-dark sand. Because regular beaches are just SO 2010, and what the Middle East really needs is more artificial light pollution.
In financial terms, they're projecting a 9.3% return on investment. This impressive number was achieved through what business professionals like me call "creative accounting," or what normal people call "making stuff up." For example, they decided that people would happily pay $704 per night to go "glamping" at their not-yet-built desert ski resort. Seems reasonable! Who wouldn't want to pay luxury hotel prices to sleep in a tent next to fake snow in 120-degree heat?
The same financial wizardry determined that boutique hiking hotel rooms (whatever those are) would command $1,866 per night. Again, totally reasonable! I often pay two grand to stay in a hotel room specifically designed for people who plan to be... not in the hotel room. These projections definitely weren't created by consultants desperately trying to make the numbers work after being told that mentioning the actual costs was forbidden before key meetings.
Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman reportedly gets very upset when people mention things like "budgets" or "physics" or "reality." According to leaked emails, there's even a rule that you should "not proactively mention cost at all" before key meetings. Now THAT'S how you run a multi-trillion dollar project! Just don't talk about the money! Problem solved.
Meanwhile, consulting giant McKinsey is earning about $130 million annually for their expert advice, which apparently includes such strategies as "just change the numbers in the spreadsheet until they look good" and "have you tried not telling the prince how much this actually costs?" I'm not saying they're enabling financial fantasy, but if McKinsey were a doctor, they'd be prescribing unicorn blood and phoenix tears.
Last October, NEOM hosted a grand opening for "Sindalah," an island development with hotels, restaurants, and a yacht marina. The party reportedly cost $45 million and featured celebrities like Will Smith, Tom Brady, and Alicia Keys. Unfortunately, the hotels weren't finished, transportation was disrupted by high winds, and much of the site was still under construction. But hey, there were celebrities! And as we all know, nothing says "successful project" like paying celebrities millions to stand around construction sites.
The former CEO of NEOM resigned after a documentary alleged tens of thousands of foreign worker deaths on the project. But I'm sure the new leadership will turn things around any day now. Perhaps they can use AI robots to build the city, since those are definitely ready for construction work in harsh desert conditions. Nothing could possibly go wrong with that plan.
The saddest part is that Saudi Arabia genuinely needs economic diversification. With oil reserves eventually running out and the world gradually shifting toward renewable energy, the kingdom needs new industries and jobs for its young population. But instead of practical investments in education, technology, or sustainable infrastructure, they're building what amounts to a life-sized game of SimCity with cheat codes enabled.
So there you have it—NEOM: a visionary project that started with hopes of economic diversification and ended up as the world's most expensive hole in the ground. But don't worry, they're still planning a grand opening ceremony with more celebrities, fireworks, and maybe even a completed building or two by 2034.
After all, why build practical infrastructure when you can build a mirage?
Reality Versus Vision: Saudi Arabia's $8.8 Trillion Case of Déjà Vu
The most hilarious part of this whole NEOM situation is the glaring contradiction between what Saudi Arabia promised they'd learned from past mistakes and what they're actually doing now. It's like watching someone give a TED Talk on the dangers of gambling addiction while simultaneously feeding their life savings into a slot machine.
Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman's 2016 white paper specifically called out the King Abdullah Financial District (KAFD) as a cautionary tale. For those unfamiliar with KAFD, it was supposed to be Saudi Arabia's answer to Wall Street or London's Canary Wharf—a gleaming financial hub that would attract international banks and businesses. But instead, it became a $10 billion ghost town of empty skyscrapers.
The white paper didn't mince words about KAFD's problems. It openly acknowledged that the project suffered from a "lack of economic feasibility." Translation: they built it without figuring out if anyone actually wanted or needed it. Revolutionary concept, I know! The document also pointed out that KAFD resulted in a "large oversupply of commercial space"—millions of square meters of empty offices with no tenants because, surprisingly, global financial firms weren't falling over themselves to relocate to Saudi Arabia.
So what brilliant strategy did they develop after this sobering self-assessment? They decided to repeat these exact mistakes at an exponentially larger scale! It's like saying, "Our small experimental rocket exploded, so clearly the solution is to build one a thousand times bigger!" The white paper specifically warned against developing projects "in a single phase" because it drives up construction costs. Yet NEOM was initially designed to be built all at once, as if the laws of economics had suddenly been suspended in Saudi airspace.
My favorite part is that the original Vision 2030 document contains this beautiful quote about "eliminating waste" and "making spending more efficient." The paper even references a Quranic verse calling for moderation! There's something almost poetic about following up these promises of fiscal responsibility with proposals requiring 25 TIMES the kingdom's annual budget. That's not a rounding error—that's like promising to go on a diet and then ordering every item on the menu, supersized, with extra cheese.
To put this in perspective, the original KAFD project that they admitted was a failure cost around $10 billion. NEOM is projected to cost $8.8 trillion. That's not learning from your mistakes—that's taking your mistakes, putting them on steroids, and entering them in the Olympics of Bad Financial Decisions. It's like watching someone crash their bicycle and deciding the solution is to buy a rocket-powered motorcycle with no brakes.
What's particularly rich is how the financial projections for NEOM have been manipulated. According to leaked internal audits, when the numbers didn't work, they simply changed the assumptions! Room rates for desert glamping suddenly jumped from $216 to $704 per night. Boutique hiking hotel rooms magically increased from $489 to $1,866 per night. Problem solved! Nothing says "viable business model" like assuming people will pay nearly $2,000 a night to sleep near a fake ski slope in the desert.
This creative accounting reminds me of that old joke: "What's the difference between a consultant and a magician? A magician makes things disappear. A consultant makes reality disappear." McKinsey is reportedly earning $130 million annually for their services on NEOM, and based on the financial projections, they're earning every penny by performing mathematical miracles that would make Einstein question his understanding of numbers.
The contrast between the sober analysis in the original white paper and the fairy-tale financial projections of NEOM is astounding. It's as if someone wrote a serious medical paper about the dangers of smoking, and then immediately launched a cigarette company with projections claiming people would pay $500 per pack because the cigarettes would be "extra fancy."
As construction crawls forward at the pace of a snail with a hangover, reality keeps intruding on the vision. The project that was supposed to house 9 million people has been scaled back to a fraction of its original size. The timeline keeps getting extended. The budget keeps expanding. Yet the official messaging remains relentlessly optimistic, like a captain announcing smooth sailing while water is visibly rushing into the ship.
The situation reminds me of what we saw with the cryptocurrency exchange FTX and its founder Sam Bankman-Fried. SBF managed to create a financial fantasy world built on nothing but hype, inflated projections, and celebrity endorsements. He convinced people like Tom Brady, Gisele Bündchen, Steph Curry, Shaquille O'Neal, and Larry David to promote his house of cards. When it all came crashing down in one of the biggest frauds in financial history, SBF went to prison for 25 years—but what happened to all those celebrities who lent their credibility to the scam? They got a pass. A few civil settlements, perhaps, but no real consequences for helping to separate ordinary people from their money.
The same pattern repeats with NEOM. Western celebrities fly in, collect their checks, smile for the cameras with the Crown Prince, and then jet back to their mansions in California. No questions asked about worker conditions, economic feasibility, or whether any of this makes sense. Just take the money and run.
What makes this situation particularly ironic is that Saudi Arabia actually has legitimate development needs. The kingdom does need to diversify its economy away from oil. It does need to create jobs for its young population. It does need sustainable infrastructure. But instead of addressing these needs with practical solutions, they've opted for what amounts to the world's most expensive theme park—complete with artificial moons, robot dinosaurs, and flying taxis. Because nothing says "economic diversification" like robot dinosaurs!
The original NEOM plans included an artificial moon, a Jurassic Park-style island of robot reptiles, flying elevators, and a giant artificial cloud that would somehow produce rain in the desert. I'm not making this up—these were actual proposals in NEOM planning documents. The Crown Prince himself reportedly suggested that NEOM should have "flying cars, robot maids, dinosaur robots, and a giant artificial moon." Because why build schools and hospitals when you can have dinosaur robots?
Internal documents reveal that when NEOM executives tried to scale back some of the more outlandish ideas, they were overruled. One executive was reportedly fired for suggesting that flying cars might not be feasible in the immediate future. Another was dismissed for questioning the economics of the artificial rain cloud. The message was clear: reality has no place in NEOM planning discussions.
If MBS were to actually go back and read his own 2016 white paper again, he'd find the blueprint for sustainable development was right there all along: start small, build based on actual demand, expand in phases, and focus on economic feasibility. Instead, Saudi Arabia seems determined to prove that if at first you don't succeed, try again with a thousand times more money and some robot dinosaurs thrown in for good measure.
The NEOM project is such a perfect example of what economists call the "resource curse"—the paradox that countries with abundant natural resources often have less economic growth and worse development outcomes than countries with fewer natural resources. When you have seemingly unlimited money, the discipline that comes from scarcity disappears. Everything seems possible, even things that clearly aren't.
As construction proceeds on the scaled-back version of The Line, workers have reportedly encountered "substantial engineering challenges." Translation: building a 500-meter-tall mirrored wall in the desert is actually pretty hard! Who could have predicted that? Other than, you know, every structural engineer on the planet.
The most recent projections suggest that if NEOM is successful in completing its current scaled-back plans, it might house around 300,000 people by 2030—a far cry from the 9 million originally projected. That would make it about the size of Cincinnati, Ohio, but at a cost of hundreds of billions of dollars. But hey, Cincinnati doesn't have robot dinosaurs or artificial moons, so clearly NEOM is still coming out ahead in this comparison.
When Oil Money Meets Science Fiction
Vision 2030 represents an extraordinary expenditure of resources with questionable returns. What began as a reasonable development plan has transformed into a collection of science fiction concepts with little regard for economic reality, environmental impact, or human cost. It's like watching someone who wrote a brilliant thesis on fire safety proceed to build a house entirely out of matches and gasoline—and then act surprised when people suggest this might not end well.
The tens of billions already spent have produced primarily CGI videos, PowerPoint presentations, and one very expensive hole in the desert. Meanwhile, reports suggest thousands of foreign workers have died on these construction sites—real human beings sacrificed at the altar of vanity projects that may never be completed. But hey, at least the Crown Prince got some cool renderings out of it! Nothing says "visionary leadership" like pretty pictures of things that will never exist.
Saudi Arabia's oil wealth allows for these grandiose experiments, but the contrast between the original vision's calls for moderation and the current reality of extravagance is jarring. It's like watching a financial advisor lecture clients on the importance of saving while simultaneously setting fire to stacks of hundred-dollar bills behind their back. "Do as I say, not as I do" has become the unofficial motto of Vision 2030.
The celebrity circus surrounding NEOM is perhaps the most predictable part of this entire fiasco. Tom Brady—fresh off his promotional work for the collapsed cryptocurrency exchange FTX—showed up to lend his golden-boy credibility to yet another questionable venture. While FTX founder Sam Bankman-Fried sits in prison serving a 25-year sentence, Brady walked away with a slap on the wrist. Gisele Bündchen, Stephen Curry, Shaquille O'Neal, and Larry David all took the money to promote FTX too, and all got a pass when it imploded. The lesson? If you're famous enough, you can promote almost anything without consequences.
Now these same celebrities and others are collecting their million-dollar appearance fees from Saudi Arabia while admiring CGI videos of robot dinosaurs and flying taxis. The weak-minded follow along, even if they're billionaires. Being rich or famous doesn't immunize you against terrible judgment—it just means your terrible judgment can do more damage.
This celebrity endorsement pattern mirrors the Theranos debacle perfectly. Elizabeth Holmes assembled an astonishing board of directors that included former Secretaries of State Henry Kissinger and George Shultz, former Defense Secretary James Mattis, former Senators Sam Nunn and Bill Frist, former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, former CEOs of Wells Fargo and Bechtel, and the former head of the CDC. These weren't stupid people—they were accomplished leaders who got completely bamboozled because they wanted to believe in the fairy tale.
A four-star general doesn't necessarily know anything about blood-testing technology, just as a football champion isn't qualified to evaluate the economic feasibility of a 106-mile-long mirrored city in the desert. But their names and faces lend credibility to ventures that don't deserve it, leading ordinary people to trust things they shouldn't. It's a kind of intellectual money laundering—using respected names to clean up dubious ideas.
Whether NEOM's projects will ever be completed as envisioned remains highly doubtful, but the resources consumed along the way represent opportunities lost for more practical investments in the Saudi people's future. Instead of schools, hospitals, and sustainable housing, Saudi Arabia is getting half-built islands and $45 million launch parties where the hotels aren't even finished. It's like promising your family a new home and instead spending all the money on a magnificent doorknob for a house that may never exist.
The environmental impact of these projects is another aspect that gets conveniently ignored in the flashy presentations. Building a 500-meter-tall mirrored wall in the desert will create an enormous heat reflection zone that could significantly alter local climate patterns. The massive water requirements for the ski resort and other amenities in one of the world's most water-stressed regions is an exercise in ecological absurdity. It's like building an ice factory in hell and wondering why your electric bill is a bit high.
And let's not forget the actual Saudi people in all this. Vision 2030 was supposedly about creating jobs and opportunities for Saudi citizens, reducing unemployment, and preparing for a post-oil future. But most of the actual work is being done by foreign laborers working in dangerous conditions for low wages, while the high-skilled, high-paying jobs go to Western consultants and executives. The average Saudi citizen is unlikely to benefit from a luxury ski resort with $704-per-night glamping tents or a robot dinosaur park.
The NEOM project also reveals something important about the nature of extreme wealth and power: it can create a reality distortion field where normal constraints don't seem to apply. When you're surrounded by yes-men and have essentially unlimited resources, the usual reality checks disappear. No one wants to be the person who tells the Crown Prince that flying cars might not be ready by 2025, or that artificial weather control remains firmly in the realm of science fiction.
It's worth noting that many of these problems aren't unique to Saudi Arabia. Look at Elon Musk's Hyperloop or Meta's Metaverse or any number of grand tech visions that promised to revolutionize everything and delivered far less. The difference is scale—most companies eventually have to answer to shareholders or face market realities. When you're funded by the world's largest oil reserves, those constraints don't apply in the same way.
The tragedy of NEOM isn't just the waste of money, though that's staggering. It's the waste of opportunity. Saudi Arabia really does need to prepare for a future beyond oil. Its young population needs education, jobs, and hope. The climate crisis demands new approaches to energy and resource use. But instead of facing these challenges with practical solutions, the kingdom has chosen to chase fantasies, following the siren song of techno-utopianism rather than doing the hard work of real development.
The world is often impressed with money—we gawk at billionaires and their toys, we follow celebrity endorsements, we assume that wealth equals wisdom. But I am not impressed by money; I am impressed by those who live a life well lived—people who create genuine value, who solve real problems, who leave the world better than they found it.
Projects like NEOM aren't the stuff that Mount Rushmore is made of—unless you're planning to turn Mount Rushmore upside down and shove it in the ground for mole people to admire. These aren't monuments to human achievement; they're monuments to human folly, excess, and delusion.
You know what the saddest part is? In fifty years, when the oil money has run dry and the half-built ruins of NEOM are being reclaimed by the desert, some archaeology student will be digging through the sand and find a glossy brochure promising flying cars and robot dinosaurs. And they'll think, "What the hell were these people smoking?" The answer, of course, is the most powerful drug of all: unlimited wealth combined with limited wisdom. It's a hell of a cocktail—and the hangover is going to be spectacular.
Afterword: When No One Wants to Say the Emperor is Naked
So, I imagine there are those who'll read this analysis and think, "Who does this guy think he is? Just some investment advisor from central Florida pointing fingers at a sovereign nation with unlimited oil wealth. What credentials does he have to critique the mighty Crown Prince and his futuristic dreams?"
Fair enough. I'm reminded of the tale of the Emperor's New Clothes—that classic story where everyone pretends to see the emperor's magnificent non-existent garments because they're afraid of appearing stupid or incompetent. It takes a child—unburdened by social pressure and career concerns—to state the obvious truth: "But he isn't wearing anything at all!" Sometimes the most valuable perspective comes from outside the echo chamber of yes-men and paid consultants.
History is filled with examples of outsiders spotting what insiders couldn't—or wouldn't—see. Harry Markopolos spent years trying to alert the SEC that Bernie Madoff was running the world's largest Ponzi scheme, only to be repeatedly ignored until the $65 billion fraud collapsed under its own weight. Dr. John Boennemann warned about the dangers of Vioxx years before Merck finally pulled the drug after it had caused thousands of heart attacks. Brooksley Born, head of the Commodity Futures Trading Commission, warned about unregulated derivatives in the late 1990s, only to be silenced by Alan Greenspan and Robert Rubin before these exact instruments nearly destroyed the global economy in 2008.
I'm not claiming to be in their league. I'm just someone who can read a balance sheet, understand basic economic principles, and recognize when the numbers don't add up. You don't need to be a master chef to know when milk has gone sour.
What we're witnessing with NEOM isn't just about Saudi Arabia—it's a symptom of a broader phenomenon where questioning obvious absurdities gets labeled as heresy. Look at what happens to people who simply point out anomalies or inconsistencies in mainstream narratives. They're not conspiracy theorists spinning tales about lizard people; they're just asking reasonable questions about things that don't make sense. Yet they're treated as if they're wearing tinfoil hats.
Take COVID-19. For two years, suggesting the virus might have leaked from a lab in Wuhan was considered dangerous misinformation worthy of social media bans. Now it's considered a plausible theory even by mainstream scientists. Asking why a "gain-of-function" research facility happened to be located in the exact city where a novel coronavirus emerged wasn't conspiracy mongering—it was a rational question that deserved investigation. Yet millions followed Dr. Fauci with religious fervor, accepting every shifting guideline as gospel while dismissing any questioning as heresy.
In another era, a foreign power unleashing a virus that killed millions of Americans—whether intentionally or through negligence—would have been considered an act of war. Today, we're more concerned about not appearing xenophobic than holding accountable those who may have been responsible for a global catastrophe that killed millions and destroyed livelihoods.
The same pattern applies to our discourse about climate change and environmental protection. We have Hollywood celebrities lecturing ordinary people about carbon footprints while flying private jets to climate conferences. We have politicians warning about rising sea levels while buying beachfront mansions. And now we have Saudi Arabia, a nation built on fossil fuels, claiming to build the world's most sustainable city—by constructing an air-conditioned ski resort in the desert and a 500-meter-tall mirrored wall that will require obscene amounts of energy to maintain.
The hypocrisy is staggering. We're told we need to give up gas stoves and combustion engines to save the planet, while the ultra-wealthy and powerful engage in environmental devastation on an unprecedented scale without consequence. The Earth is being ravaged by these idiotic developments while we debate whether paper straws will save the turtles.
This isn't about being anti-development or anti-technology. It's about being pro-reality. It's about acknowledging that certain physical, economic, and social constraints actually exist and can't be wished away with enough petrodollars or celebrity endorsements.
What's truly unacceptable isn't questioning these projects—it's the failure to investigate and progress with knowledge on a rational basis. It's the suspension of critical thinking when big money and power are involved. It's the collective agreement to pretend the emperor is wearing clothes when he's clearly strutting around in his birthday suit.
Behind the scenes of today's geopolitical theater—with Trump's return to power, Europe's energy crisis, China's economic troubles, and the Middle East's perpetual volatility—there are always complex reasons for why powerful people do what they do. I don't claim to understand all of them. But I do know that when numbers don't add up, they don't add up. When something sounds too good to be true, it usually is. And when something defies basic physics and economics, calling it "visionary" doesn't make it viable.
If that makes me the George Carlin of finance and economics, I'll gladly accept the title. Carlin's genius was cutting through bullshit with a surgeon's precision and a comedian's timing. He understood that sometimes the most patriotic thing you can do is point out your country's flaws, and the most respectful thing you can do for your audience is tell them the truth, no matter how uncomfortable.
So I'll continue doing my daily chores of wealth advice and management for the common man and woman, while maintaining this geopolitical perspective that seems increasingly rare. I'll keep being that person who tells people it's okay to duck and hunker down when necessary, and it's okay to come out and look around when the coast is clear. I'll keep pointing out when the numbers don't make sense, when the projections are fantasy, and when the emperor has no clothes.
Because ultimately, the world doesn't need more yes-men. It doesn't need more McKinsey consultants willing to manipulate spreadsheets to justify whatever the client wants to hear. It doesn't need more celebrities willing to lend their credibility to whatever pays them enough.
What the world needs is more people willing to state the obvious, even when it's uncomfortable. People willing to ask, "Wait, how exactly are you going to build a 106-mile-long mirrored city in the desert for $200 billion when infrastructure projects routinely go 3-5x over budget?" People willing to point out that robot dinosaurs don't actually contribute to economic diversification, and artificial weather control isn't a thing that exists.
So go ahead and dismiss me as just some investment advisor from central Florida. But remember, sometimes the person stating the obvious isn't the crazy one—it's the crowd pretending to see invisible clothes on a naked emperor who have lost touch with reality.
And in a world increasingly detached from economic and physical reality, perhaps a little truth-telling—even if it comes with a heavy dose of sarcasm—isn't such a bad thing after all.
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Tunnel to Towers Benefit Concert
The Truesdell Companies was the primary sponsor of the Eirinn Abu benefit concert for Tunnel to Towers, which was held on February 28th at the Circle Square arena in Ocala, Florida.
https://t2t.org/
Podcast Personality
Paul Grant Truesdell | Founder & CEO
J.D., AIF, CLU, ChFC, RFC
The Truesdell Companies
The Truesdell Professional Building
200 NW 52nd Avenue
Ocala, Florida 34482
212-433-2525 - Switchboard
paul@truesdell.net - General Email
Websites
truesdellwealth.com
Truesdell.net
PaulTruesdell.com
youtube.com/@truesdellwealth
Find The Paul Truesdell Podcast also at:
Apple | https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-paul-truesdell-podcast/id1586024560
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Rough Notes
NEOM: Saudi Arabia's Desert Dream (or Nightmare?)
Let me tell you about NEOM, the crown jewel of Saudi Arabia's Vision 2030 initiative. As someone who's been analyzing this project since its inception, I have to say it's absolutely fascinating—and by fascinating, I mean it's like watching someone try to build a space elevator using Legos and superglue.
The centerpiece of NEOM is "The Line," a concept so outlandish it makes Las Vegas look subtle. Picture this: a 106-mile-long city stretching across the desert, rising 500 meters tall (that's about the height of the Empire State Building), all enclosed in mirrored glass. It's as if someone took Manhattan, melted it down, and stretched it out like taffy. Who wouldn't want to live in a giant mirror-covered hallway where you can see your neighbors for miles?
This mega-city was designed to house 9 million people in what they call a "traditional-free" environment. No traditional buildings, no traditional streets, no traditional common sense! Just a massive straight line cutting through the desert. They promised flying taxis, robot maids, artificial weather, and even robot dinosaurs—because apparently regular cities with, you know, shapes other than straight lines are just too boring for Saudi Arabia's future.
Now let's talk money, because that's where things get really entertaining. The initial budget for The Line was a mere $200 billion—pocket change if you're sitting on the world's largest oil reserves. But in a plot twist that surprised absolutely no one except perhaps the Saudi finance ministry, that number has now ballooned to an estimated $8.8 TRILLION. That's trillion with a "T." To put that in perspective, that's about 25 times Saudi Arabia's entire annual budget! But hey, who's counting zeros when you've got oil money, right?
The best part is that after spending over $50 billion so far, they've had to scale back their ambitions just a teensy bit. Instead of building the full 106-mile line, they're now aiming to complete just 1.5 miles by 2030. That's like promising to build the entire Interstate Highway System but delivering only enough road to connect a Starbucks to a Walmart. Progress!
Even this dramatically reduced version would equal "three times all the office buildings in midtown Manhattan." It would require "a significant portion of the world's available steel and glass." I'm sure global supply chains won't mind setting aside most of their materials for one project in the desert. No problem at all! The global construction industry was just sitting around waiting for a challenge anyway.
So what have they actually accomplished so far with all this money and fanfare? They've managed to... dig a hole in the desert. But it's a very expensive hole, so there's that. They've also produced some truly spectacular CGI videos showing what NEOM might look like if physics and economics were optional disciplines.
The promotional materials for NEOM are something else. They show people zipping around in flying cars, swimming in crystal-clear waters that are somehow in the middle of the desert, and enjoying robot dinosaurs in futuristic amusement parks. There's even talk of an artificial moon and beaches with glow-in-the-dark sand. Because regular beaches are just SO 2010, and what the Middle East really needs is more artificial light pollution.
In financial terms, they're projecting a 9.3% return on investment. This impressive number was achieved through what business professionals like me call "creative accounting," or what normal people call "making stuff up." For example, they decided that people would happily pay $704 per night to go "glamping" at their not-yet-built desert ski resort. Seems reasonable! Who wouldn't want to pay luxury hotel prices to sleep in a tent next to fake snow in 120-degree heat?
The same financial wizardry determined that boutique hiking hotel rooms (whatever those are) would command $1,866 per night. Again, totally reasonable! I often pay two grand to stay in a hotel room specifically designed for people who plan to be... not in the hotel room. These projections definitely weren't created by consultants desperately trying to make the numbers work after being told that mentioning the actual costs was forbidden before key meetings.
Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman reportedly gets very upset when people mention things like "budgets" or "physics" or "reality." According to leaked emails, there's even a rule that you should "not proactively mention cost at all" before key meetings. Now THAT'S how you run a multi-trillion dollar project! Just don't talk about the money! Problem solved.
Meanwhile, consulting giant McKinsey is earning about $130 million annually for their expert advice, which apparently includes such strategies as "just change the numbers in the spreadsheet until they look good" and "have you tried not telling the prince how much this actually costs?" I'm not saying they're enabling financial fantasy, but if McKinsey were a doctor, they'd be prescribing unicorn blood and phoenix tears.
Last October, NEOM hosted a grand opening for "Sindalah," an island development with hotels, restaurants, and a yacht marina. The party reportedly cost $45 million and featured celebrities like Will Smith, Tom Brady, and Alicia Keys. Unfortunately, the hotels weren't finished, transportation was disrupted by high winds, and much of the site was still under construction. But hey, there were celebrities! And as we all know, nothing says "successful project" like paying celebrities millions to stand around construction sites.
The former CEO of NEOM resigned after a documentary alleged tens of thousands of foreign worker deaths on the project. But I'm sure the new leadership will turn things around any day now. Perhaps they can use AI robots to build the city, since those are definitely ready for construction work in harsh desert conditions. Nothing could possibly go wrong with that plan.
The saddest part is that Saudi Arabia genuinely needs economic diversification. With oil reserves eventually running out and the world gradually shifting toward renewable energy, the kingdom needs new industries and jobs for its young population. But instead of practical investments in education, technology, or sustainable infrastructure, they're building what amounts to a life-sized game of SimCity with cheat codes enabled.
So there you have it—NEOM: a visionary project that started with hopes of economic diversification and ended up as the world's most expensive hole in the ground. But don't worry, they're still planning a grand opening ceremony with more celebrities, fireworks, and maybe even a completed building or two by 2034.
After all, why build practical infrastructure when you can build a mirage?
Reality Versus Vision: Saudi Arabia's $8.8 Trillion Case of Déjà Vu
The most hilarious part of this whole NEOM situation is the glaring contradiction between what Saudi Arabia promised they'd learned from past mistakes and what they're actually doing now. It's like watching someone give a TED Talk on the dangers of gambling addiction while simultaneously feeding their life savings into a slot machine.
Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman's 2016 white paper specifically called out the King Abdullah Financial District (KAFD) as a cautionary tale. For those unfamiliar with KAFD, it was supposed to be Saudi Arabia's answer to Wall Street or London's Canary Wharf—a gleaming financial hub that would attract international banks and businesses. But instead, it became a $10 billion ghost town of empty skyscrapers.
The white paper didn't mince words about KAFD's problems. It openly acknowledged that the project suffered from a "lack of economic feasibility." Translation: they built it without figuring out if anyone actually wanted or needed it. Revolutionary concept, I know! The document also pointed out that KAFD resulted in a "large oversupply of commercial space"—millions of square meters of empty offices with no tenants because, surprisingly, global financial firms weren't falling over themselves to relocate to Saudi Arabia.
So what brilliant strategy did they develop after this sobering self-assessment? They decided to repeat these exact mistakes at an exponentially larger scale! It's like saying, "Our small experimental rocket exploded, so clearly the solution is to build one a thousand times bigger!" The white paper specifically warned against developing projects "in a single phase" because it drives up construction costs. Yet NEOM was initially designed to be built all at once, as if the laws of economics had suddenly been suspended in Saudi airspace.
My favorite part is that the original Vision 2030 document contains this beautiful quote about "eliminating waste" and "making spending more efficient." The paper even references a Quranic verse calling for moderation! There's something almost poetic about following up these promises of fiscal responsibility with proposals requiring 25 TIMES the kingdom's annual budget. That's not a rounding error—that's like promising to go on a diet and then ordering every item on the menu, supersized, with extra cheese.
To put this in perspective, the original KAFD project that they admitted was a failure cost around $10 billion. NEOM is projected to cost $8.8 trillion. That's not learning from your mistakes—that's taking your mistakes, putting them on steroids, and entering them in the Olympics of Bad Financial Decisions. It's like watching someone crash their bicycle and deciding the solution is to buy a rocket-powered motorcycle with no brakes.
What's particularly rich is how the financial projections for NEOM have been manipulated. According to leaked internal audits, when the numbers didn't work, they simply changed the assumptions! Room rates for desert glamping suddenly jumped from $216 to $704 per night. Boutique hiking hotel rooms magically increased from $489 to $1,866 per night. Problem solved! Nothing says "viable business model" like assuming people will pay nearly $2,000 a night to sleep near a fake ski slope in the desert.
This creative accounting reminds me of that old joke: "What's the difference between a consultant and a magician? A magician makes things disappear. A consultant makes reality disappear." McKinsey is reportedly earning $130 million annually for their services on NEOM, and based on the financial projections, they're earning every penny by performing mathematical miracles that would make Einstein question his understanding of numbers.
The contrast between the sober analysis in the original white paper and the fairy-tale financial projections of NEOM is astounding. It's as if someone wrote a serious medical paper about the dangers of smoking, and then immediately launched a cigarette company with projections claiming people would pay $500 per pack because the cigarettes would be "extra fancy."
As construction crawls forward at the pace of a snail with a hangover, reality keeps intruding on the vision. The project that was supposed to house 9 million people has been scaled back to a fraction of its original size. The timeline keeps getting extended. The budget keeps expanding. Yet the official messaging remains relentlessly optimistic, like a captain announcing smooth sailing while water is visibly rushing into the ship.
The situation reminds me of what we saw with the cryptocurrency exchange FTX and its founder Sam Bankman-Fried. SBF managed to create a financial fantasy world built on nothing but hype, inflated projections, and celebrity endorsements. He convinced people like Tom Brady, Gisele Bündchen, Steph Curry, Shaquille O'Neal, and Larry David to promote his house of cards. When it all came crashing down in one of the biggest frauds in financial history, SBF went to prison for 25 years—but what happened to all those celebrities who lent their credibility to the scam? They got a pass. A few civil settlements, perhaps, but no real consequences for helping to separate ordinary people from their money.
The same pattern repeats with NEOM. Western celebrities fly in, collect their checks, smile for the cameras with the Crown Prince, and then jet back to their mansions in California. No questions asked about worker conditions, economic feasibility, or whether any of this makes sense. Just take the money and run.
What makes this situation particularly ironic is that Saudi Arabia actually has legitimate development needs. The kingdom does need to diversify its economy away from oil. It does need to create jobs for its young population. It does need sustainable infrastructure. But instead of addressing these needs with practical solutions, they've opted for what amounts to the world's most expensive theme park—complete with artificial moons, robot dinosaurs, and flying taxis. Because nothing says "economic diversification" like robot dinosaurs!
The original NEOM plans included an artificial moon, a Jurassic Park-style island of robot reptiles, flying elevators, and a giant artificial cloud that would somehow produce rain in the desert. I'm not making this up—these were actual proposals in NEOM planning documents. The Crown Prince himself reportedly suggested that NEOM should have "flying cars, robot maids, dinosaur robots, and a giant artificial moon." Because why build schools and hospitals when you can have dinosaur robots?
Internal documents reveal that when NEOM executives tried to scale back some of the more outlandish ideas, they were overruled. One executive was reportedly fired for suggesting that flying cars might not be feasible in the immediate future. Another was dismissed for questioning the economics of the artificial rain cloud. The message was clear: reality has no place in NEOM planning discussions.
If MBS were to actually go back and read his own 2016 white paper again, he'd find the blueprint for sustainable development was right there all along: start small, build based on actual demand, expand in phases, and focus on economic feasibility. Instead, Saudi Arabia seems determined to prove that if at first you don't succeed, try again with a thousand times more money and some robot dinosaurs thrown in for good measure.
The NEOM project is such a perfect example of what economists call the "resource curse"—the paradox that countries with abundant natural resources often have less economic growth and worse development outcomes than countries with fewer natural resources. When you have seemingly unlimited money, the discipline that comes from scarcity disappears. Everything seems possible, even things that clearly aren't.
As construction proceeds on the scaled-back version of The Line, workers have reportedly encountered "substantial engineering challenges." Translation: building a 500-meter-tall mirrored wall in the desert is actually pretty hard! Who could have predicted that? Other than, you know, every structural engineer on the planet.
The most recent projections suggest that if NEOM is successful in completing its current scaled-back plans, it might house around 300,000 people by 2030—a far cry from the 9 million originally projected. That would make it about the size of Cincinnati, Ohio, but at a cost of hundreds of billions of dollars. But hey, Cincinnati doesn't have robot dinosaurs or artificial moons, so clearly NEOM is still coming out ahead in this comparison.
When Oil Money Meets Science Fiction
Vision 2030 represents an extraordinary expenditure of resources with questionable returns. What began as a reasonable development plan has transformed into a collection of science fiction concepts with little regard for economic reality, environmental impact, or human cost. It's like watching someone who wrote a brilliant thesis on fire safety proceed to build a house entirely out of matches and gasoline—and then act surprised when people suggest this might not end well.
The tens of billions already spent have produced primarily CGI videos, PowerPoint presentations, and one very expensive hole in the desert. Meanwhile, reports suggest thousands of foreign workers have died on these construction sites—real human beings sacrificed at the altar of vanity projects that may never be completed. But hey, at least the Crown Prince got some cool renderings out of it! Nothing says "visionary leadership" like pretty pictures of things that will never exist.
Saudi Arabia's oil wealth allows for these grandiose experiments, but the contrast between the original vision's calls for moderation and the current reality of extravagance is jarring. It's like watching a financial advisor lecture clients on the importance of saving while simultaneously setting fire to stacks of hundred-dollar bills behind their back. "Do as I say, not as I do" has become the unofficial motto of Vision 2030.
The celebrity circus surrounding NEOM is perhaps the most predictable part of this entire fiasco. Tom Brady—fresh off his promotional work for the collapsed cryptocurrency exchange FTX—showed up to lend his golden-boy credibility to yet another questionable venture. While FTX founder Sam Bankman-Fried sits in prison serving a 25-year sentence, Brady walked away with a slap on the wrist. Gisele Bündchen, Stephen Curry, Shaquille O'Neal, and Larry David all took the money to promote FTX too, and all got a pass when it imploded. The lesson? If you're famous enough, you can promote almost anything without consequences.
Now these same celebrities and others are collecting their million-dollar appearance fees from Saudi Arabia while admiring CGI videos of robot dinosaurs and flying taxis. The weak-minded follow along, even if they're billionaires. Being rich or famous doesn't immunize you against terrible judgment—it just means your terrible judgment can do more damage.
This celebrity endorsement pattern mirrors the Theranos debacle perfectly. Elizabeth Holmes assembled an astonishing board of directors that included former Secretaries of State Henry Kissinger and George Shultz, former Defense Secretary James Mattis, former Senators Sam Nunn and Bill Frist, former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, former CEOs of Wells Fargo and Bechtel, and the former head of the CDC. These weren't stupid people—they were accomplished leaders who got completely bamboozled because they wanted to believe in the fairy tale.
A four-star general doesn't necessarily know anything about blood-testing technology, just as a football champion isn't qualified to evaluate the economic feasibility of a 106-mile-long mirrored city in the desert. But their names and faces lend credibility to ventures that don't deserve it, leading ordinary people to trust things they shouldn't. It's a kind of intellectual money laundering—using respected names to clean up dubious ideas.
Whether NEOM's projects will ever be completed as envisioned remains highly doubtful, but the resources consumed along the way represent opportunities lost for more practical investments in the Saudi people's future. Instead of schools, hospitals, and sustainable housing, Saudi Arabia is getting half-built islands and $45 million launch parties where the hotels aren't even finished. It's like promising your family a new home and instead spending all the money on a magnificent doorknob for a house that may never exist.
The environmental impact of these projects is another aspect that gets conveniently ignored in the flashy presentations. Building a 500-meter-tall mirrored wall in the desert will create an enormous heat reflection zone that could significantly alter local climate patterns. The massive water requirements for the ski resort and other amenities in one of the world's most water-stressed regions is an exercise in ecological absurdity. It's like building an ice factory in hell and wondering why your electric bill is a bit high.
And let's not forget the actual Saudi people in all this. Vision 2030 was supposedly about creating jobs and opportunities for Saudi citizens, reducing unemployment, and preparing for a post-oil future. But most of the actual work is being done by foreign laborers working in dangerous conditions for low wages, while the high-skilled, high-paying jobs go to Western consultants and executives. The average Saudi citizen is unlikely to benefit from a luxury ski resort with $704-per-night glamping tents or a robot dinosaur park.
The NEOM project also reveals something important about the nature of extreme wealth and power: it can create a reality distortion field where normal constraints don't seem to apply. When you're surrounded by yes-men and have essentially unlimited resources, the usual reality checks disappear. No one wants to be the person who tells the Crown Prince that flying cars might not be ready by 2025, or that artificial weather control remains firmly in the realm of science fiction.
It's worth noting that many of these problems aren't unique to Saudi Arabia. Look at Elon Musk's Hyperloop or Meta's Metaverse or any number of grand tech visions that promised to revolutionize everything and delivered far less. The difference is scale—most companies eventually have to answer to shareholders or face market realities. When you're funded by the world's largest oil reserves, those constraints don't apply in the same way.
The tragedy of NEOM isn't just the waste of money, though that's staggering. It's the waste of opportunity. Saudi Arabia really does need to prepare for a future beyond oil. Its young population needs education, jobs, and hope. The climate crisis demands new approaches to energy and resource use. But instead of facing these challenges with practical solutions, the kingdom has chosen to chase fantasies, following the siren song of techno-utopianism rather than doing the hard work of real development.
The world is often impressed with money—we gawk at billionaires and their toys, we follow celebrity endorsements, we assume that wealth equals wisdom. But I am not impressed by money; I am impressed by those who live a life well lived—people who create genuine value, who solve real problems, who leave the world better than they found it.
Projects like NEOM aren't the stuff that Mount Rushmore is made of—unless you're planning to turn Mount Rushmore upside down and shove it in the ground for mole people to admire. These aren't monuments to human achievement; they're monuments to human folly, excess, and delusion.
You know what the saddest part is? In fifty years, when the oil money has run dry and the half-built ruins of NEOM are being reclaimed by the desert, some archaeology student will be digging through the sand and find a glossy brochure promising flying cars and robot dinosaurs. And they'll think, "What the hell were these people smoking?" The answer, of course, is the most powerful drug of all: unlimited wealth combined with limited wisdom. It's a hell of a cocktail—and the hangover is going to be spectacular.
Afterword: When No One Wants to Say the Emperor is Naked
So, I imagine there are those who'll read this analysis and think, "Who does this guy think he is? Just some investment advisor from central Florida pointing fingers at a sovereign nation with unlimited oil wealth. What credentials does he have to critique the mighty Crown Prince and his futuristic dreams?"
Fair enough. I'm reminded of the tale of the Emperor's New Clothes—that classic story where everyone pretends to see the emperor's magnificent non-existent garments because they're afraid of appearing stupid or incompetent. It takes a child—unburdened by social pressure and career concerns—to state the obvious truth: "But he isn't wearing anything at all!" Sometimes the most valuable perspective comes from outside the echo chamber of yes-men and paid consultants.
History is filled with examples of outsiders spotting what insiders couldn't—or wouldn't—see. Harry Markopolos spent years trying to alert the SEC that Bernie Madoff was running the world's largest Ponzi scheme, only to be repeatedly ignored until the $65 billion fraud collapsed under its own weight. Dr. John Boennemann warned about the dangers of Vioxx years before Merck finally pulled the drug after it had caused thousands of heart attacks. Brooksley Born, head of the Commodity Futures Trading Commission, warned about unregulated derivatives in the late 1990s, only to be silenced by Alan Greenspan and Robert Rubin before these exact instruments nearly destroyed the global economy in 2008.
I'm not claiming to be in their league. I'm just someone who can read a balance sheet, understand basic economic principles, and recognize when the numbers don't add up. You don't need to be a master chef to know when milk has gone sour.
What we're witnessing with NEOM isn't just about Saudi Arabia—it's a symptom of a broader phenomenon where questioning obvious absurdities gets labeled as heresy. Look at what happens to people who simply point out anomalies or inconsistencies in mainstream narratives. They're not conspiracy theorists spinning tales about lizard people; they're just asking reasonable questions about things that don't make sense. Yet they're treated as if they're wearing tinfoil hats.
Take COVID-19. For two years, suggesting the virus might have leaked from a lab in Wuhan was considered dangerous misinformation worthy of social media bans. Now it's considered a plausible theory even by mainstream scientists. Asking why a "gain-of-function" research facility happened to be located in the exact city where a novel coronavirus emerged wasn't conspiracy mongering—it was a rational question that deserved investigation. Yet millions followed Dr. Fauci with religious fervor, accepting every shifting guideline as gospel while dismissing any questioning as heresy.
In another era, a foreign power unleashing a virus that killed millions of Americans—whether intentionally or through negligence—would have been considered an act of war. Today, we're more concerned about not appearing xenophobic than holding accountable those who may have been responsible for a global catastrophe that killed millions and destroyed livelihoods.
The same pattern applies to our discourse about climate change and environmental protection. We have Hollywood celebrities lecturing ordinary people about carbon footprints while flying private jets to climate conferences. We have politicians warning about rising sea levels while buying beachfront mansions. And now we have Saudi Arabia, a nation built on fossil fuels, claiming to build the world's most sustainable city—by constructing an air-conditioned ski resort in the desert and a 500-meter-tall mirrored wall that will require obscene amounts of energy to maintain.
The hypocrisy is staggering. We're told we need to give up gas stoves and combustion engines to save the planet, while the ultra-wealthy and powerful engage in environmental devastation on an unprecedented scale without consequence. The Earth is being ravaged by these idiotic developments while we debate whether paper straws will save the turtles.
This isn't about being anti-development or anti-technology. It's about being pro-reality. It's about acknowledging that certain physical, economic, and social constraints actually exist and can't be wished away with enough petrodollars or celebrity endorsements.
What's truly unacceptable isn't questioning these projects—it's the failure to investigate and progress with knowledge on a rational basis. It's the suspension of critical thinking when big money and power are involved. It's the collective agreement to pretend the emperor is wearing clothes when he's clearly strutting around in his birthday suit.
Behind the scenes of today's geopolitical theater—with Trump's return to power, Europe's energy crisis, China's economic troubles, and the Middle East's perpetual volatility—there are always complex reasons for why powerful people do what they do. I don't claim to understand all of them. But I do know that when numbers don't add up, they don't add up. When something sounds too good to be true, it usually is. And when something defies basic physics and economics, calling it "visionary" doesn't make it viable.
If that makes me the George Carlin of finance and economics, I'll gladly accept the title. Carlin's genius was cutting through bullshit with a surgeon's precision and a comedian's timing. He understood that sometimes the most patriotic thing you can do is point out your country's flaws, and the most respectful thing you can do for your audience is tell them the truth, no matter how uncomfortable.
So I'll continue doing my daily chores of wealth advice and management for the common man and woman, while maintaining this geopolitical perspective that seems increasingly rare. I'll keep being that person who tells people it's okay to duck and hunker down when necessary, and it's okay to come out and look around when the coast is clear. I'll keep pointing out when the numbers don't make sense, when the projections are fantasy, and when the emperor has no clothes.
Because ultimately, the world doesn't need more yes-men. It doesn't need more McKinsey consultants willing to manipulate spreadsheets to justify whatever the client wants to hear. It doesn't need more celebrities willing to lend their credibility to whatever pays them enough.
What the world needs is more people willing to state the obvious, even when it's uncomfortable. People willing to ask, "Wait, how exactly are you going to build a 106-mile-long mirrored city in the desert for $200 billion when infrastructure projects routinely go 3-5x over budget?" People willing to point out that robot dinosaurs don't actually contribute to economic diversification, and artificial weather control isn't a thing that exists.
So go ahead and dismiss me as just some investment advisor from central Florida. But remember, sometimes the person stating the obvious isn't the crazy one—it's the crowd pretending to see invisible clothes on a naked emperor who have lost touch with reality.
And in a world increasingly detached from economic and physical reality, perhaps a little truth-telling—even if it comes with a heavy dose of sarcasm—isn't such a bad thing after all.