Brand new, but retro

An obsession with factions and personalities has blinded many Labour kremlinologists to the decisive ideological shift signalled by Andy Burnham’s new cabinet. Not from right to left, or south to north, but from centralisers to decentralisers. It is more than the faces that have changed; it is the animating purpose of the government.

GDH Cole, a Fabian thinker and the architect of ‘guild socialism’, identified two axes within the Labour tradition. One axis was between reformers and revolutionaries along the familiar lines of left and right. The other was characterised by, at one end, believers in a benevolent centralised state delivering social justice via strong institutions and an enlightened administrative class. This pole of Cole’s second spectrum found its expression in the worst excesses of Fabian paternalism and Douglas Jay’s contention that “the gentleman in Whitehall really does know better what is good for people than the people know themselves.”

By contrast, there are those socialists who believe in decentralisation, federalism, co-operatives, self-organisation, and mutual aid. This latter tradition reflects Labour’s deep roots in the local trade union branch, the Temperance Movement, the non-conformist churches, the Clarion Clubs, and the Co-op.

These two traditions have coexisted uneasily within Labour’s broad church. In 1918, at the Methodist Central Hall in Westminster, the Labour party conference voted for the first Clause IV, with its carefully imprecise language about ‘common ownership’, later treated as carte blanche for Soviet-style nationalisation and monolithic institutions.

The sociologist AH Halsey highlighted the obvious irony: “The movement that had invented the social forms of modern participatory democracy, and practised them in union branch and Co-op meeting, thereby laying a Tocquevillian foundation for democracy, was ironically fated to develop through its political party the threats of a bureaucratic state.”

Forever a mass of contradictions, at the very same conference the party voted for a resolution calling for local ownership and control over education, sanitation, police, water, gas, electricity, tramways, housing, parks, town planning, libraries, the provision of music and popular recreation, and the retailing of coal. This was to “…avoid the evils of centralisation and the drawbacks of bureaucracy.” Conference also voted that: “the fullest possible scope should be given in all branches of social reconstruction to the democratically-elected local governing bodies, that whilst the central government department should assist with information and grants in aid, the local authorities should be given a free hand to develop their own services in whatever way they choose.”

This is the democratic socialist tradition in which Andy Burnham stands foursquare. Manchesterism is a modern iteration of the gas-and-water socialism of the early Fabians, the municipalism of Joe Chamberlain’s Birmingham, and Morrison’s London county council (LCC). It was no coincidence that his first speech, once the leadership was in the bag, was at the People’s History Museum on the banks of the Irwell, yards from the site of Peterloo, and under the benevolent gaze of the Chartists, Suffragettes, Radicals, Reformers and other heroes of British democracy.

In the book he coauthored with Steve Rotherham, Head North, Burnham states that: “Over-concentration of political power in one postcode is not conducive to the public good.” This is the essence of Burnham’s theory of change – that centralised power creates inequalities and inequities and is inherently inefficient. His proof of concept is Manchester, where marshalling local forces – from citizens and councils to companies and co-ops – has created economic growth alongside civic pride. In his two major speeches, at the People’s History Museum and at the Trades Union Congress in London, this was the dominant theme.

“Good growth in every postcode” is more than a neat slogan – it is an organising principle to guide every minister in every part of government. This matters, because Burnham cannot micro-manage every department. What he can do is set an acid test for every ministerial decision. Once ministers understand this, all kinds of possibilities will come to the fore, whether tax-raising powers for city mayors, electoral reform for the Commons, mutual control of local assets such as schools, parks, shops, childcare, housing, football clubs, and water companies, co-ops on the railway, or reshaping our high streets into safe, shared spaces. This principle also allows for bold innovation in the delivery of services across health, justice, education, social care, and transport.

Best of all, it provides the answer to the rise of right-wing ‘populism’ by unleashing the best instincts of the British people, tapping into our shared sense of neighbourliness, social solidarity, and co-dependence. This is the Britain of park runs, pub quizzes, charity hikes, blood donation, community choirs, five-a-side football, and street parties, not painting roundabouts or burning down hotels. Burnhamism represents the potential birth of a patriotic communitarianism, fusing national purpose with community spirit. A renewed Britain, born in the Stubshaw Cross Community and Sports Centre.

Any government needs a story about what it is doing and why it is doing it. By mining Labour’s tradition of mutualism, co-operation, and localised democracy, Burnham can construct a governing purpose. From that flows a series of stories, metaphors, and explainers of what this Labour government is for. It may be late arriving, but it shouldn’t be hard for Burnham: he means it.

Image credit: The Big Lunch via flickr