Travelling hopefully

How can we restore a realistic sense of hope?

On his arrival speech at the entrance to No 10, Andy Burnham was (let’s be fair, understandably so) short on specifics but long on what seems to be currently labelled ‘vibes’. Notably he ended by saying, “Let us make this the moment when Britain starts to believe again. The moment we bring back hope.”

When my Mum was alive I used to have long, wide-ranging conversations with her deep into the night. One of her favourite sayings was, “It’s better to travel hopefully than arrive.”

It’s a wonderful saying, the more you ponder it, the more resonant it becomes.

For a start, let’s deal with the obvious caveat that, better or not, surely we can and do arrive. Well, up to a point. We all have projects and goals with a start and an end date, but in the grand scheme of things – across our lives – do we ever arrive? Aren’t we always travelling? And, without wishing to be morbid, doesn’t our journey end with a departure rather than an arrival?

Sometimes the lyrics of songs also ring loudly with me, as with Mum’s saying, and in this case have some kind of link. The marvellous Al Stewart in his track ‘Admiral Grenville’ sang^[1],

“Our time is just a point along a line

That runs forever with no end.”

That can be a melancholy thought, but it shouldn’t be – or rather doesn’t have to be. It’s a reminder we are part of the stream, but not that we don’t matter – events and people brought us to this point and what we do at this point affects in some measure, large or small, what follows.

As the hymn, ‘Only Remembered’ from Warhorse puts it^[2]:

“Fadin’ away like the stars in the mornin’

Losin’ their light in the glorious sun

Thus would we pass from this earth and its toilin’

Only remembered for what we have done.”

Remembered for what we have done

Isn’t that the core of it for most of us? We want to make a difference. Travelling hopefully is to feel we are going somewhere with a purpose. We want to make a difference.

Otherwise, what’s the Point? Our point upon that line mustn’t be pointless.

But to leap from Al Stewart and ‘Warhorse’ to the US Declaration of Independence, I’d suggest that’s in some measure what the founding fathers were thinking when they wrote all of us had the right to, ‘…the preservation of life, & liberty, & the pursuit of happiness.’

Let’s leave aside life and liberty, and focus on ‘The pursuit of happiness’. Note they didn’t say we had the right to be happy, but to pursue it – in other words the right to travel hopefully, so by extension not necessarily to arrive.

And by happiness we can also be sure they didn’t define happiness as a damn good party, holiday in the sun or a good laugh with our mates. They were classicists and philosophers.

What exactly Jefferson, the prime author of the declaration, meant by happiness is still debated, as are his inspirations. We’ll never know, but no-one considered the concept of happiness more profoundly or deeply than the Greek philosopher, Aristotle.

Of happiness he said, “Happiness is the meaning and purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence.” Again, he didn’t define happiness as being a longer word for fun, but the state of human flourishing, of living well. Effectively happiness (eudaimonia in Greek) was about fulfilling our potential.

Aristotle also thought you couldn’t measure how well you have lived up to your full potential as a human being until it has ended. For this reason, one cannot really make any pronouncements about whether one has lived a happy life until it is over. It was all about travelling hopefully!

Which brings us back to Andy Burnham outside No10.

Because, and I don’t know if he’s up to the task, he’s put his finger on something.

The root of so much of our ennui, is that so few of us are travelling hopefully. It’s not simply about the facts or figures but the feelings. In Aristotle’s terms we don’t feel we’re flourishing, we don’t feel we’re fulfilling our potential. The young people without jobs or prospects, the many employed who feel they’re going nowhere, living in fear of AI, being hyper-adrenalized by social media algorithms, toxic political polarisation, and the rest.

So people are looking for someone who offers a way forward, a way up and out.

What some are seeing, and many more are hoping, is that Burnham might, just might, be that man to, in his words ‘bring back hope.’ To there being some point in our personal ‘point upon a line.’

The first requirement is to be a great communicator. Burnham is certainly a good one and I guess were going to see if he’s a great one.

It’s easy, but wrong, to underestimate the importance of this. Sam Leith, in his superb book on Aristotle’s (him again!) ‘Rhetoric’, put it well, “What has rhetoric ever done for us? Well, it has brought about all of Western civilisation for a start. What is democracy but the idea that the art of persuasion should be formally enshrined at the centre of the political process.”

At a point of crisis in World War Two, the great journalist Ed Murrow, said of Churchill’s inspirational impact that he had, “mobilized the English language and sent it into battle”.

One of Starmer’s main failings was that, bluntly, he was a rubbish communicator. A somewhat grating voice, with flat intonation and phrasing, accentuated by an inability to punch a phrase or come up with striking turns of phrase. The latter reflected he was neither an interesting thinker nor quick on his feet. Maybe OK for presenting a complex brief in a civil court, but not in any sense someone who is going to inspire, especially in hard times requiring hard choices.

So being able to tell a good story is fundamental. Good leaders don’t do; they persuade other people to do the doing. At lower, tactical levels you can lead by example, but at the strategic level – even with the credibility of a good back story – it’s words and a narrative.

To emphasise the point on narrative, then I would look to NATO’s military doctrine, where its highest level doctrine says all action has to be driven by ‘narrative-led execution’. In ‘NATO speak’ it directs, “Narrative-led execution sets a unifying strategic intent across the Alliance at all levels of command delivering centralized intent and enabling decentralized execution…. Therefore, activities must be conducted in the context of the narrative, rather than acting in ignorance and being forced to manage the consequences.”

In other words, a good narrative well told and understood is the basis for unified, coherent action at all levels. Remember, that directive is being applied to military action, with all that implies.

But what makes a good narrative? Interestingly the structure of a good story is very similar to the structure of a good strategy. This should be no surprise, given we were telling stories and deciding action on that basis long before we could read or write. Stories have always been the basis for action.

A good narrative in this context isn’t just words – it tells us where we are, who we are, what are values are, where we want to go, and how we’re going to get there. So it also naturally contains the elements of a plan and a strategy. Fine words, clever phrasing, nice delivery, only work if they are part of a flow, a structure and progression that takes you along with them to somewhere.

Once again, Starmer failed here. What was the strategy? If he had one then even his own cabinet couldn’t see it, so it’s hardly surprising if the public didn’t.

So, back to Burnham – is he a man with a plan?

Aristotle in his book, Rhetoric, on the art of persuasion, identified three key elements, Logos, Pathos, Ethos – translating Ancient Greek into English can be tricky, but they roughly equate to Argument, Passion, Credibility.

When it comes to Burnham, I think we can put a tick against the Pathos box. But does he have the plan, Logos, is it a credible plan and is he the man to deliver it, Ethos?

It’s early days, but he wants to hit the ground running, set a tone and has already indicated he’s got big plans. He knows he will be judged quickly and is embracing it.

He’s obviously learnt from Starmer who never really recovered from his disastrous start. So while Rachel Reeves announced the ending of winter fuel payment for pensioners, producing a negative reaction that led to a damaging U-turn, Burnham produced three successive days of little treats for us to show he ‘got’ the cost of living crisis.

So, he’s talking a good game, also highlighting his focus on some big issues, youth unemployment, the social care crisis. He’s also gained credibility by openly acknowledging previous failures, “I know people at home are fed up with politics. I hear you. And I want to be honest with you. We have not been good enough, and we need to be better.”

But, but, but…

There are two massive elephants in the room – the first being the cost of all this stuff.

We’re already seeing this looming. Announcing the first week’s modest giveaways, the government said they were fully costed, but upon examination that looked somewhat more problematic, and that was just a couple of billion – chickenfeed in government terms.

Furthermore, as has already been pointed out, Burnham is not the first PM to talk about reforming social care and so on. It would be ungenerous to so quickly dismiss the seriousness of his intent, but also fair to highlight that so have others. It’s a truly wicked problem others have failed, and always for the same reason – the cost.

Which brings us back to Burnham’s narrative, which mentions the need for keeping to the fiscal rules, but in a far lower, less frequent key to the far louder good vibe tone.

Maybe that’s OK for the early weeks, but it can’t last long, because to maintain the ethos and logos of his rhetoric the man with a plan has to work out paying for it. The credibility of his narrative ultimately rests on the feasibility of its execution.

Giving the British public, in his words, a little ‘breathing space’, mustn’t mislead them into thinking there aren’t tough times ahead.

And this is the second elephant in the room – us.

When Churchill made his inaugural speech as PM in May 1940 he didn’t mince his words, talking of the “grievous ordeal” that lay ahead, saying, “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat.”

Now the existential crisis facing us in 1940 can hardly compare with us in 2026, but in that Downing Street speech Burnham did say things were seriously bad, which certainly fits the current zeitgeist, “It requires my generation of politicians to raise our game, and rise to the new challenge. Britain needs to show the world that we can regain our stability once again, and that is our challenge, … Many feel as though they’re still in decline, and they don’t have the ability to turn things around.”

But so far, and leaving aside the blood, we’re not being offered ‘toil, tears and sweat.’

Which must be part of what lies ahead. By which I mean OUR toil, tears and sweat.

And some of what he has said is therefore worrying, notably his multiple statements that he’s going to stick to Labour’s election manifesto to not raise income tax, VAT or national insurance.

Really?

For this is a big part of the original sin that got us where we are and sank Starmer. It was a foolish election promise done to garner votes, and done in response to the Tories who, knowing they would lose anyway, tried to minimise their losses and put Labour in a corner.

They succeeded. The result was Starmer and Reeves ducking and diving to raise cash in other ways. That effort fooled no-one, and in so doing imposing calamitous new taxes, for instance employers’ national insurance, that have cost hundreds of thousands of jobs.

The tragedy is I believe the country was ready for some tough love, but this, along with other mis-steps tanked their credibility. Their moment passed.

Now Burnham, having promised a ‘circuit-breaker’ is promising to maintain this damaging circuit. Neither clever nor necessary, given he was not part of creating that manifesto. He needs headroom to create his circuit-breaker.

I also think Burnham needs to pivot towards challenging the public, not just politicians. In his inaugural address President JF Kennedy famously said, “Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country.”

Again, as with Churchill’s inaugural address, the context is different, but the point remains valid. Burnham to succeed is going to ask us for some toil and tears.

After all, what’s going to pay for social care reforms, increased defence spending, education reform, devolution, support to NEETs, energy support to the poor, rough sleepers, and so on?

Is he going to tackle the cost of welfare? That includes the triple lock on pensions, now projected to cost an extra £15bn, three times higher than forecast.

Are we up for this?

There’s a reason after all why Labour made those manifesto commitments, knowing perfectly well they were foolish for anything other than getting elected. There’s also a reason why politicians have failed for decades to reform social care. Burnham called that failure a “dereliction of duty”. True enough, but the primary reason was that they did not think they could get it, and more critically, its cost, past the electorate. Were they wrong?

For example, in 2017, then Prime Minister Theresa May’s proposed social care reforms, where a portion of the costs were recovered after death. They were savaged by the other political parties, including Labour, in highly emotional terms, and contributed significantly to the Tories losing their majority. Oh, and for good measure, May also proposed replacing the pension triple lock with a less generous double lock. Lesson learned.

I’ve previously quoted Juvenal’s lament about the Roman people becoming less responsible and only caring for ‘bread and circuses’ from their leaders. It would be unkind to say we’ve fallen quite so far, but the febrile state of public discourse, the search for change for its own sake, tells its own tale. So, sure our leaders have failed, but don’t we also get the leaders we deserve – we voted for them.

Burnham is promising to be a different leader saying he will provide, “A new political model and a new economic model… And that’s why we will change politics.” But change is hard, as Machiavelli, said in The Prince, while offering advice to a future ruler, “There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success, than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things.”

He also said why it was so perilous, “Because the innovator has for enemies all those who have done well under the old conditions, and lukewarm defenders in those who may do well under the new.”

In other words, wait until you try to raise taxes or cut spending – just imagine the pension lobby pulling out their heart-rending examples of suffering pensioners in defence of the triple lock. Imagine the reaction of the soft/hard left Labour MPs who humiliated Starmer over welfare cuts if you try to do something similar.

As I wrote this Burnham was outlining his plans for reform to social care. I don’t doubt his sincerity, nor the need. Asked about its cost, he acknowledged it would “require difficult decisions” and he will put them before the country “at the right time”. Hmm, and when might that be? The mood music was variable, but you don’t have to be too cynical to wonder if we’re hearing the rustle of a ball landing in the long grass.

But I don’t want to be too cynical. No Brit should want him to fail, but I worry. I want him to succeed, to get us travelling hopefully. But to do that he needs to challenge us, as well as blaming the politicians we are complicit in supporting.

And we need to do it sooner rather than later, to use his communication skills to bring us along and inspire us to accepting it’s time for some ‘toil, tears and sweat’. When is going to be “the right time” for some “difficult decisions”? Now.

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