In defense of bribing Andy Burnham to avoid the vulgarity of a leadership contest

There is a certain type of person who looks at a Prime Minister enjoying a perfectly serene, well-catered moment at the G7 summit and thinks, “Now is the time to demand his job.” I do not understand these people. I sat three rows behind Keir Starmer during a particularly riveting panel on sustainable sovereign debt mechanisms this weekend, and I was struck by the sheer, unadulterated dignity of the man. Here was a leader completely in his element, nodding gravely at Emmanuel Macron, adjusting his earpiece with the steady hand of a true statesman.

And then, the indignity. A gaggle of grubby domestic reporters thrust their microphones into this rarefied air to ask about squabbles in Greater Manchester. They wanted to know about Wes Streeting’s threats. They wanted to know about Andy Burnham. You could see the Prime Minister’s impeccable posture stiffen. It was a stark reminder of the fundamental flaw in our political system: the constant, nagging requirement to placate the people who put you in power.

Starmer, however, handled it with the brilliance that only a true master of Westminster can summon. He casually let slip that he wishes to offer Andy Burnham a “big role” in government to avoid a leadership contest.

I have seen the pundit class clutching their pearls over this. They call it a desperate bribe. They call it a cynical maneuver to stave off a coup. To which I say: yes, obviously, and thank God for it. What these critics fail to understand is that bribing your rivals with fictional, high-sounding cabinet portfolios is the absolute cornerstone of British democratic stability. It is how the adults stay in the room.

Let us examine the alternative. A leadership contest. The very phrase sends a shiver down the spine of anyone who appreciates the quiet hum of an undisturbed civil service. A leadership challenge ahead of a likely election to replace Burnham as mayor would require Keir Starmer to return from the global stage and spend his weekends standing in drafty village halls, pretending to enjoy lukewarm tea and listening to the unvetted opinions of constituency members. It is frankly barbaric that we expect a sitting Prime Minister to justify his continued existence to his own party.

Starmer’s proposed solution—to simply give Burnham a massive, undefined job with a nice car and a large desk in Whitehall—is not weakness. It is efficiency.

We must talk about the Andy Burnham problem. If Burnham wins the byelection tomorrow—as every single poll tragically suggests he will—he will resign his mayoral job, triggering a fresh election to replace him on Thursday, 30 July.

The central issue with Burnham is that he is, as the press endlessly reminds us, “personally very popular in the north-west.” I have always found this phrase chilling. Popularity is a crutch for those who lack the courage to be broadly despised by the right people. What has his popularity actually achieved? It has given him a mandate. And as anyone who has spent more than fifteen minutes in a Westminster private dining room knows, a mandate is simply a polite word for a mob.

Burnham won easily in the last mayoral election two years ago by appealing to the masses, a tactic that always strikes me as somewhat beneath the dignity of high office. Starmer’s genius is recognizing that the only way to neutralize a man suffering from acute regional popularity is to trap him in the airless vacuum of a Westminster department. Give him a title like “Secretary of State for Northern Vibes and General Placation.” Give him a red box. Within six months, the bureaucracy will have successfully beaten the charisma out of him, and the threat will be extinguished.

Then there is the matter of the Manchester succession. Bev Craig, the leader of Manchester city council, is tipped to be Labour’s candidate for the mayoralty. The commentariat is in a panic because Craig is not personally popular in the way Burnham is.

I fail to see the crisis. Being unpopular is the hallmark of a serious manager. It shows you are not distracted by the vulgar business of being liked. True, Reform UK trounced Labour in the local elections in May, and holding the mayoralty will be a tough challenge for the party. There is a very real chance that Labour could lose Greater Manchester entirely.

But we must maintain a sense of proportion. Are we really to believe that the fate of the nation rests on who manages the tram timetables in Salford? If losing the north-west to Reform UK is the price we must pay to ensure Keir Starmer does not have to deal with a leadership contest, then I say it is a bargain. Let Reform have the mayoralty. It will keep them busy, and more importantly, it will keep them far away from London, where the actual work of governing is done.

Which brings us, regrettably, to Wes Streeting. The Health Secretary has reportedly threatened to launch his own leadership contest if the Prime Minister does not set out a timetable to step down.

A timetable.

I was forced to put down my morning espresso when I read this. A timetable is something one sets for the arrival of a package, or the completion of a kitchen extension. One does not set a timetable for the departure of a G7 head of government. It betrays a horrifying middle-management mindset that is entirely unsuited to the majesty of statecraft. Streeting’s impatience is not just unseemly; it is profoundly inconsiderate. Does he not realize how long it takes to properly curate a legacy?

If Starmer were to step down now, who would attend the panels? Who would strike the correct pose of somber reflection at international summits? We cannot trust these delicate tasks to men who are worried about timetables and byelection polling.

The Prime Minister is entirely correct. First and foremost, we must all want Andy Burnham to win his byelection tomorrow, resign his mayoralty, and accept whatever gilded cage Starmer builds for him. We must embrace the strategic brilliance of the political bribe. It is the only way to protect our leaders from the exhausting, disruptive, and frankly unnecessary burden of having to lead.