Beneath the unrelenting slate-grey drizzle of the Greater Manchester suburbs, a rescue mission is underway. The Labour Party hierarchy has officially authorized Mayor Andy Burnham to abandon a functional regional government and return to the capital so that the party might confront its impending doom with a united front.
MAKERFIELD, England — The rain here in Lancashire falls with a specific, institutional heaviness, pooling in the potholes outside the Labour Party constituency office. Inside, over the rattling hum of a two-bar electric heater and the smell of instant coffee turning acidic in a styrofoam cup, the political machinery of Westminster is attempting to reverse its own entropy.
Health Secretary Wes Streeting and Deputy Leader Lucy Powell have descended upon the damp streets of Makerfield to offer an olive branch to Andy Burnham, the Greater Manchester Mayor who was effectively exiled to the north a decade ago. Their stated objective is to "end factionalism"—a local Westminster idiom meaning a desperate desire to hold hands while staring, paralyzed, into the headlights of Nigel Farage's approaching motorcade.
The strategy is quite elegant in its sheer defensive panic. We cannot necessarily stop Mr. Farage from marching up Downing Street, but by bringing Andy back into the fold, we can at least ensure the entire parliamentary party is weeping in the exact same room when it happens.
Streeting’s endorsement of Burnham’s return was delivered with the grim solemnity of a general handing a rusted rifle to a passing civilian. By declaring Burnham the party’s "best chance" of winning the upcoming byelection, the party elite made a tacit admission: the only way to save their Westminster project is to hastily import a man who has spent the last seven years aggressively avoiding it.
Outside the office, the sharp scent of diesel exhaust from the passing 621 bus cuts through the damp air. Burnham, who currently commands a sprawling metropolitan budget and a functioning transport network, will now be asked to trade it all for the privilege of sitting on a green leather bench in London, watching his colleagues try to outflank a populist uprising by being incrementally more miserable.