How do you address the enigma that is Andy? Much like Schrödinger’s cat, Andy Burnham exists in a curious state at the Labour party conference in Liverpool-both present and absent simultaneously.
Excluded from the main stage, yet the highlight of numerous fringe gatherings, he is the figure no cabinet minister openly acknowledges, yet who lingers persistently in the minds of Keir Starmer and Rachel Reeves. Andy Burnham embodies the paradox of a leadership contender who simultaneously denies any such ambition, navigating his political path with remarkable ambivalence.
One must wonder why Burnham continually finds himself at the center of such speculation. Just before the conference, he granted a front-page interview to the Daily Telegraph, critiquing the government’s leadership and calling for a new direction. Yet, many immediately interpreted this as a veiled leadership bid.
Similarly, a comprehensive 5,000-word discussion with the New Statesman editor outlining his vision for the nation was again read as a strategic move to position himself as Keir Starmer’s successor.
Moreover, Burnham’s conversations with various media outlets revealed that several Labour MPs had urged him to step down as Greater Manchester mayor and return to Westminster as the presumptive leader. Despite this, whispers persist that he harbors ambitions for the top job. How much more can one man endure such relentless conjecture?
It might be tempting to conclude that Burnham is a poor schemer. Effective political maneuvering demands careful planning and impeccable timing-qualities seemingly absent from his approach. His initial leadership aspirations fizzled out quickly, lacking momentum and visible allies willing to publicly support him, at least for now.
Perhaps the drumbeat for Andy will grow louder following potential Labour setbacks in the upcoming Welsh, Scottish, and regional elections next May. Until then, he remains firmly rooted in Manchester.
Yet, it’s undeniable that Burnham possesses a charisma that many political figures lack. He is a natural storyteller, a vital trait for any politician, and exudes a relaxed confidence. While Starmer and Kemi Badenoch often appear stiff in public, Andy projects the image of an approachable, down-to-earth individual-even if, beneath the surface, he is a consummate politician with his sights set on significant achievements. Somehow, this ambition feels forgivable, even when you suspect he’s tailoring his message to please his audience.
These attributes were on full display at a Guardian-hosted fringe event on Monday. Burnham described his conference experience as low-key, noting he hadn’t been out socializing and was looking forward to attending a football match that evening.
When questioned about a leadership campaign, he dismissed the notion as a misunderstanding. His attempts to be helpful had apparently spiraled out of control. The Telegraph interview, he claimed, was exaggerated and misleading-who would have thought a right-leaning publication might distort a Labour politician’s words?
Leaning forward, he challenged the audience with a steady gaze, asserting his loyalty. Over the past week, he had been diligently collaborating with survivors to facilitate the government’s announcement of the Hillsborough law at the conference. His sole aim was to ensure Labour presented a compelling vision for the next elections, equipping councillors with a positive narrative to share on the doorstep and offering a hopeful alternative to the divisiveness of Reform. Indeed, Burnham’s storytelling prowess was unmistakable.
He firmly denied ever advocating for Labour to abandon fiscal discipline or disregard bond markets. Borrowing, he clarified, was only acceptable for investing in social housing. He described fiscal rules as flexible-ironically, the stricter they appear, the more room there is to maneuver. His explanation was convincing, his words flowing smoothly, inviting belief.
Burnham did express a minor critique of the current government: during the Blair-Brown era, internal dissent among Labour MPs was tolerated and seen as healthy, a practice less common today. Yet, he sympathized with Starmer, acknowledging the inherited economic challenges and the difficulty of rapid recovery within a year. Still, he emphasized that time was running out and voters demanded tangible change-his version of change.
As the conversation progressed, familiar policy proposals emerged: reduced rail and bus fares, increased social housing, ending the two-child benefit cap, and electoral reform. These ideas resonate well with the public, though delivering them is another matter. But with opponents like Nigel Farage, Burnham argued, bold promises are necessary-winning trust first, figuring out implementation later. It’s all about maintaining credibility.
The discussion circled back to where it began, with Burnham reiterating that a leadership challenge was never on his agenda. “I’m Manchester through and through,” he declared. “Westminster isn’t my world.”
Yet, his demeanor suggests otherwise. Perhaps he is simply one of those individuals to whom such political dramas naturally gravitate. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.
As the audience dispersed, he repeated, “I’m just trying to be helpful.” If this is his idea of helpfulness, one can only imagine how challenging he might be when he chooses to be difficult.
