The Treasury’s much-anticipated growth blueprint lands at a moment when the country is holding its breath. For the next prime minister, it will be more than a set of economic targets: it will be a test of whether they understand the quiet desperation beneath the statistics. On the street, the reaction is less about GDP and more about the cost of a pint of milk.
The blueprint, leaked in fragments to the press, promises investment in infrastructure, a crackdown on red tape, and a vague commitment to 'levelling up' that has already become a hollow phrase in the northern towns left behind by the last decade. But what does this mean for the family in Rotherham struggling with the mortgage? Or the graduate in Manchester stacking shelves because the jobs promised never arrived?
The human cost of economic policy is not found in Treasury spreadsheets but in the weary eyes of those who have lost faith. The cultural shift underway is one of pragmatism over hope. People are no longer asking for miracles; they want a government that stops pretending a rising tide lifts all boats, especially when so many boats are still moored to the bottom of the river.
The next prime minister must realise that growth without distribution is just a cruel trick. The blueprint, if it means anything, must address the class dynamics that have hardened since the financial crisis: the gilded London elite versus the forgotten provinces. As the Treasury prepares to unveil its plans, the country waits not for a revolution, but for a sign that someone in power understands the daily grind.
The best economic policy is one that makes life a little less precarious. The rest is just noise.
