I have known Andy Burnham for two decades, during which time we have developed a strong friendship. I have seen him in government, out of government, leading decentralization, leaving devolution, under pressure and under scrutiny.
We first met when I was Mayor of Liverpool during our memorable year in the international spotlight as European Capital of Culture in 2008. Being Liverpool’s ceremonial ‘First Citizen’ was a dream come true for me.
Andy was then Secretary of State for Culture, which meant we started seeing each other at events – but he wasn’t particularly chatty. As it turned out, he thought I was a Liberal Democrat, as they controlled the council at the time! He admits he was more tribal in those days.
As our friendship developed, I began to realize that he had a similar outlook on life to me – apart from our football allegiance – and was very aware of the government’s inertia around the Hillsborough disaster.
But I don’t think he fully appreciated what he was letting himself in for when I invited him to speak at a service at Anfield to mark the 20th anniversary of the disaster. People may be familiar with how the 37,000 in attendance responded to a lone voice shouting “we want justice” during his speech at the Kop. But the story of that day is not what Andy said. It was what she did.
He stopped and listened to families who had spent 20 years fighting to be heard. He heard their anger, their frustration, and their determination to uncover the truth. More importantly, though, he realized that Hillsborough was much bigger than football loyalties: an entire city had been crying out for injustice for two decades and no one was listening. It was the result of powerful institutions ignoring ordinary people and protecting themselves.
That experience stayed with him. Looking back now, I think you can see its influence on a lot of what came next. Years later it would culminate in his efforts to secure a Hillsborough Act, helping other families never have to endure the same struggle for truth and justice.
We became a lot closer, both personally and politically, after I joined him in parliament in 2010. One thing people get wrong with Andy is that they mistake being driven and determined to be ambitious.
It is certainly ambitious. The most successful politicians are. But he never struck me as someone who sees politics as a ladder to climb. What motivates him is much simpler than that: he sees injustice and wants to do something about it.
This sometimes makes it difficult. Andy can be stubborn – and not just when it comes to football. Once he is convinced that he is right about something, he is not easily shaken. He is impatient for results. I’ve seen this frustrate colleagues time and time again. But it’s the reason families fighting for justice and communities that feel left out tend to trust him.
That is why his success in the by-election was so impressive. There are very few Labor politicians in the country who could have achieved the result he achieved at Makerfield.
We both left Westminster in 2017 to become mayors. Some colleagues scoffed and looked down their noses when we said we wanted to build another policy. But we both wanted to do something about our constituencies being left behind by a centralized Westminster system. As mayor, you see the consequences of decisions taken from afar up close.
People may remember Andy’s spats with Westminster during Covid, particularly when there were suggestions that places outside London should be content with less support than those in the capital. Whether you agreed with him or not, you always knew where he stood. Away from the cameras he is thoughtful, curious, contemplative and a much better listener than he is given credit for. But when he reaches a conclusion, he backs himself up.
He doesn’t connect with people in places like Makerfield because they agree with him on everything. They don’t. We had many doorstep conversations with people who had nothing but contempt for politicians. But they felt they knew him. They knew where it came from, they knew what it stood for, and they thought that the person they saw on television was basically the same person they would meet in the pub, at a football match or at a concert.
Most of all, for me, it’s the fact that Andy is a decent guy. Some may see this as faint praise. Not me: the great Jurgen Klopp described himself as “normal”, and Andy is normal too. He loves his family, music, football and running, sometimes with the poorest taste in shorts known to mankind. He is loyal to his friends and has not forgotten where he comes from. Despite all that politics throws at people, he has managed to retain the qualities that made people warm to him in the first place. Even if his judgment occasionally fails him when it comes to supporting his beloved football team.
(Further reading: Andy Burnham does a Lenin)
