Andy Burnham Wants to Drag Britain Back to the 1970s — He Hates Margaret Thatcher’s Britain
Andy Burnham has barely settled into Number 10, yet he has already made one thing unmistakably clear: he wants to break with the economic settlement that has shaped Britain for more than four decades.
In his first speech as prime minister, Burnham delivered an extraordinary verdict on the direction Britain took during the 1980s. He argued that political power had become too centralised, economic power had been privatised and large parts of the country had been deindustrialised. His conclusion was blunt: Britain had taken “wrong turns” and needed a fundamentally different political and economic model.
For his critics, that sounds less like a modern programme for government and more like an attempt to reverse history.
Burnham is not merely proposing a few adjustments to the existing system. His vision involves stronger public control of essential services, a major expansion of regional government, industrial intervention, more council housing and a state that plays a much larger role in shaping the economy.
That inevitably raises the question: is Britain about to be dragged back towards the politics of the 1970s?
The comparison is uncomfortable for Labour because the 1970s are remembered as an era of inflation, strikes, weak economic growth and industrial conflict. Britain entered the 1980s facing deep economic problems, and Margaret Thatcher’s government responded with a radically different philosophy: reducing the role of the state, privatising major industries, weakening trade-union power and encouraging market competition.
Burnham believes many of the consequences of that transformation remain visible today.
His supporters argue that the Thatcher revolution produced winners and losers. Financial services and parts of the South East benefited enormously, they contend, while industrial communities in the North and Midlands suffered from factory closures and long-term economic decline.
That argument is central to Burnham’s political identity.
He spent years as mayor of Greater Manchester, where he developed a model based on regional government, public transport intervention and local control. Now he wants to scale that philosophy up to the entire country.
The most striking example is his creation of “No 10 North”, a Manchester-based centre intended to take economic decision-making away from Whitehall and put greater power into the hands of regions. Burnham has described the move as a major transfer of power, with the new office expected to play a central role in economic growth and national development.
That is not Thatcherism.
But it is not necessarily a return to the 1970s either.
Burnham insists his project is pragmatic rather than ideological. His argument is that the state should have the tools to intervene when markets fail to deliver affordable essentials or balanced regional growth.
Transport provides a good illustration.
This month, Burnham backed plans for the West Midlands to move its bus network towards public control. Private companies would still operate services, but local government would have much greater influence over fares, timetables and service standards. The government is providing £11.5 million to support the transition.
To Burnham, this is not an attempt to nationalise everything.
It is a practical response to a system he believes has failed passengers.
The same philosophy is emerging in energy, water and housing. Burnham has argued that essential services should be subject to stronger public control when that can make them more affordable and reliable. His broader programme also includes building more council homes and reindustrialising Britain through public procurement and investment.
Critics, however, see something much more radical.
They argue that Burnham is attacking the assumptions that made Britain a more competitive economy after 1979. The Washington Post’s Charles Moore, Margaret Thatcher’s authorised biographer, has described Burnham’s approach as an “anti-Thatcher revolution”, arguing that the new prime minister risks confusing the problems of today’s Britain with those of the past.
That criticism gets to the heart of the debate.
Was Thatcher’s Britain the problem—or was it part of the solution?
There is no simple answer.
The 1970s were not a golden age of public ownership. Britain suffered from serious industrial disputes, high inflation and economic instability. Simply restoring old forms of state control would not recreate the conditions of the mid-20th century, nor would it necessarily solve today’s problems.
Burnham appears to understand that.
His language is nostalgic in one sense, but his policies are designed for the 2020s and 2030s. He wants digital industries alongside manufacturing, regional innovation alongside public investment and private businesses working alongside a more interventionist state.
His objective is not literally to recreate 1975.
It is to create what he believes should have followed 1980.
That distinction matters.
Burnham’s first Downing Street speech called for the “biggest changes in the last forty years” and promised a new political and economic model. He also promised fiscal prudence and said his government would work within its fiscal rules while attempting to expand investment and reduce long-term welfare costs through employment, education and housing.
So the real question is not whether Burnham wants to bring back the 1970s.
He doesn’t.
The question is whether he wants to undo enough of the Thatcher-era settlement to make Britain look fundamentally different.
The answer appears to be yes.
And that could become the defining battle of his premiership.
Burnham believes Britain became too centralised. His response is devolution.
He believes privatisation went too far. His response is public control of essential services.
He believes industrial decline was allowed to become permanent. His response is reindustrialisation.
He believes housing markets have failed to provide enough affordable homes. His response is more council building.
And he believes the political establishment has become disconnected from communities outside Westminster. His response is to move power north.
The ambition is enormous.
But so are the risks.
Public control costs money. Building houses costs money. Infrastructure costs money. Industrial policy costs money. And giving regions greater power only works if those regions have the capacity and resources to use it effectively.
Britain is already carrying a huge debt burden and facing substantial demands from the NHS, welfare, defence and local government.
Burnham therefore faces the paradox that has defeated many governments before him: voters want better services, lower bills and stronger economic growth, but they are often reluctant to accept the taxation or borrowing required to pay for them.
His political opponents will seize on that contradiction.
Reform UK and the Conservatives can portray Burnham as a politician who wants to increase the state’s reach while failing to explain how the country will finance his ambitions. They can also argue that his criticism of Thatcher is an outdated political obsession.
But Burnham has a powerful counterargument.
If the existing system were working, he asks, why are so many parts of Britain struggling with stagnant productivity, inadequate housing, weak public transport and regional inequality?
His answer is that Britain has spent too long allowing markets and central government to determine outcomes without giving communities enough power to shape their own futures.
That is why “No 10 North” may be more important than the symbolism suggests.
It represents Burnham’s attempt to reverse the direction of British government—not simply by changing policies, but by changing where decisions are made. Reuters reports that his government intends to shift important economic responsibilities from the Treasury to the Manchester-based operation.
That is a direct challenge to decades of Westminster centralisation.
And it explains why the Thatcher comparison will not disappear.
For supporters of the former Conservative prime minister, Burnham’s programme represents a dangerous attempt to turn back the clock. For Burnham’s supporters, the opposite is true: they believe Britain is still living with the consequences of decisions made decades ago and that refusing to reconsider them is itself a form of political nostalgia.
There is also a generational argument here.
Burnham’s political generation grew up in the aftermath of the Thatcher revolution. They watched traditional industrial communities change, trade unions lose influence, council housing decline and public services increasingly operate through markets and private providers.
Burnham’s answer is to say that the experiment has run long enough.
Whether Britain agrees remains uncertain.
The new prime minister currently has political momentum, but momentum is not enough. He must demonstrate that his alternative model can actually deliver higher growth, better public services and improved living standards without creating the economic instability associated with the era he is accused of romanticising.
That is the great test.
Burnham does not really want Britain to return to the 1970s.
He wants Britain to move beyond the 1980s.
And that may be an even bigger political gamble.
Because if he succeeds, he could establish a new settlement in which regional power, public intervention and industrial strategy become normal parts of British economic life.
But if he fails, his critics will have a devastating argument ready.
They will say that Britain did not need to relive its past.
It needed to learn from it.
And that is why Margaret Thatcher’s shadow is likely to remain over Number 10 for as long as Andy Burnham occupies it.