Sorry Labour, Andy Burnham Will Not Save You

It’s been a brutal few weeks for the Labour Party. Starmer’s post-summer “relaunch” lasted all of 48 hours before the wheels fell off. First came the resignation of Angela Rayner, not over anything political or principled, but over stamp duty, of all things. Then came the botched reshuffle – creating a muddle of bureaucratic titles and turf wars making it painfully clear this was not a government running on mission, but on muscle memory. With the latest umpteenth scandal surrounding Peter Mandelson, more of the Labour faithful have begun to publicly question Starmer’s judgement, and have now – once again – turned their gaze towards their man in Manchester.

Andy Burnham.

For some in the Labour movement, he is the dream deferred: the leader-that-could-have-been, the working-class lad with charisma, conviction, and a Mancunian drawl that makes voters feel like they’re being spoken to, not managed. He looks like a politician from another time – a time when Labour won things. In an age of technocrats and timidity, Burnham offers something resembling soul. He talks like a mayor. He acts like a man who enjoys having power. He wears his suits with conviction. It’s no surprise, then, that the grassroots are looking northward with longing.

But let us be serious: Andy Burnham will not save the Labour Party.

For all his rhetorical gifts and regional swagger, Burnham remains a political throwback. His worldview is firmly rooted in soft-left nostalgia – a sepia-toned vision of the NHS, industrial policy, and municipal socialism, doused in the language of fairness and collective dignity. But that worldview is not suited to a 2025 Britain grappling with stagnation, debt, and a sclerotic state. The Labour Party does not need a storyteller. It needs a surgeon. And Burnham, for all his charm, is no reformer.

His record in Manchester is mixed at best. He is praised for his leadership during the pandemic, yes – but that was more performance than policy. His transport reforms are modest. His housing delivery is unimpressive. His mayoralty has been, if anything, a case study in the limits of soft devolution. The fundamental engines of growth and reform – planning, taxation, education, welfare – remain untouched by Burnhamism, not because he lacked the tools, but because he lacked the appetite. He governs like a campaigner, not a builder.

Worse still, Burnham is deeply ambiguous on the major economic questions. He flirts with public ownership, dithers on private enterprise, and recoils from any suggestion of public sector reform. This is a politician who talks up social justice, while defending the NHS as a relic of national faith. The very idea of choice, competition, or accountability within public services seems to unnerve him. There is little evidence that he would approach the Treasury with anything resembling a growth agenda. There is plenty of evidence he would double down on the status quo.

And yet, because Starmer is increasingly seen as directionless, many on the left now see Burnham as the answer. The saviour. A modern King over the water. 

Make no mistake; this is squarely in the realm of fantasy and wish-fulfillment. A party that lurches from technocracy to sentimentality, from spreadsheets to soft-focus speeches, is not one that can govern effectively. Labour’s crisis is not a personnel problem. It is a philosophical one. It doesn’t know what it wants to be – a party of enterprise, or a party of entitlements. A party of reform, or of nostalgia. A party of growth, or a party of grievance.

Burnham’s ascension would not resolve that crisis. It would deepen it. He is not a rupture, he is a retreat. He offers comfort, not clarity. A quaint throwback aesthetic for a party that is terrified of making hard choices. The British left’s obsession with finding a messiah – be it Jeremy Corbyn, to Sir Starmer, and now to Burnham – betrays its refusal to do the harder work of building a new economic and political consensus.

But maybe it’s time to ask the impolite question: is the Labour Party even worth saving?

For all the angst about leaders and factions, for all the frantic appeals to electability and the wrangling over policy platforms, Labour still hasn’t answered the most basic political question – what on earth is it for? Once upon a time, however flawed, it had answers: full employment, social security, national renewal. Today, it offers mood boards. Its instincts are managerial, its aspirations meagre, and its economic imagination indistinguishable from the Resolution Foundation’s blogroll.

The party seems permanently suspended between nostalgia and nervousness – unwilling to embrace modernisation and incapable of stirring ambition. If Starmer fails, and Burnham fails after him, who comes next? The reality is that there is no cavalry. There is no magic name. The task of revival is not about personality. It is about purpose. And if Labour cannot find one – a reason to exist beyond vague promises of fairness and competence – then maybe it doesn’t deserve to exist at all.

Illustration: Will Allen/Europinion