In a move that has sent shockwaves through the Westminster teacup, Rachel Reeves has thrown her considerable weight behind Andy Burnham as the next Labour leader. Yes, the same Andy Burnham who once tried to ban foie gras and now talks about patriotism like a man who has discovered a new flavour of crisps. The City, that great barometer of all things fiscally sensible, has reportedly ‘welcomed’ this shift. Which in financial parlance means they have stopped chewing their pencils long enough to grunt in mild approval.
Let us dissect this political chameleon. Burnham, the Mayor of Manchester, has been executing a manoeuvre so deft it would make a ballet dancer weep. He has wrapped himself in the Union Jack, promised to bring back the death penalty for anyone who misuses the word ‘Brexit’, and declared that Labour must ‘love Britain’. This is the same Labour that until recently was so busy flagellating itself over colonialism that it forgot to have a policy on potholes. But now, behold! The rebirth of the patriotic left, or as I call it, the 'Tory-Lite with Extra Gammon' strategy.
Reeves, the shadow chancellor, has evidently decided that the path to power lies not in taxing the rich until they squeak, but in convincing them that Labour can be trusted with the nation’s piggy bank. She has backed Burnham with the enthusiasm of a woman who has just seen a poll. And what a poll it must have been. Perhaps one showing that ‘British values’ poll better than ‘economic redistribution’ among the focus groups of Middle England. The City, ever a sucker for a bit of flag-waving, has responded with a collective nod. Shares in union jacks have gone through the roof.
But let us not get carried away. This is the same City that once thought Northern Rock was a solid investment. Their ‘welcome’ is about as meaningful as a politician’s apology. They see Burnham as a safe pair of hands, a man who can manage the transition from the corpse of Corbynism to a shiny, new, business-friendly socialism. Or as it’s also known, ‘liberal conservatism with a flat cap’.
Burnham’s pitch is simple: Labour will be the party of the nation, not the party of the protest. He will stand up for working people, but also for the flag, the Queen, and perhaps even the concept of afternoon tea. He has learned the ancient art of triangulation, a skill once perfected by Tony Blair, who used it to win three elections before he ruined his legacy with a small war. The question is: can Burnham pull it off without the aid of spin doctors and dodgy dossiers? Time will tell.
Meanwhile, the Tory press is already sharpening its knives. They smell a rat, or rather, a patriot. They will paint Burnham as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a man who will say anything to get into Number 10. But for now, the sun shines on the Labour conference, and all is well in the world of projection and aspiration.
So, comrades, raise a glass of lukewarm gin to the new Labour. A party that loves Britain so much it might even consider making it a bit more like Switzerland. The City approves. The focus groups are delighted. And somewhere, a man in a red tie is practicing his statesmanlike frown. God save the King, and the opinion polls.
