Britain has now rattled through seven prime ministers in 10 years, a turnover more befitting a troubled football club than a mature democracy. David Cameron, for all his faults, was the last to enjoy anything approaching a settled spell in Downing Street.
Since 2016, Westminster has become a revolving door. It is against this backdrop that Andy Burnham arrives, promising “the biggest change to British politics in 40 years” and a radical rewiring of power away from Westminster.
Farmers could be forgiven for greeting such rhetoric with scepticism. Burnham is no outsider storming the establishment. He entered Parliament in 2001, served in the Blair and Brown governments, spent nine years as Mayor of Greater Manchester, and now returns to Westminster as prime minister. His Cabinet is full of familiar Labour faces. The question for rural Britain is whether this is genuinely new politics or simply a new cast performing an old script.
Andy Burnham has become Britain's seventh prime minister in a decade, pledging to 'rewire Britain' through greater devolution (Image: Stefan Rousseau/PA Wire)
Central to Burnham’s vision is devolution. He wants to 'rewire Britain', shifting power out of Whitehall, creating a 'No. 10 North' in Manchester and giving regions greater control over economic development. For rural areas long accustomed to feeling like an afterthought in Westminster, the promise is attractive. Local leaders are closer to the realities of flooded fields, inadequate rural transport and ageing infrastructure than civil servants in London. Greater control over planning, transport and investment could allow farming communities to shape decisions that directly affect their businesses.
Yet devolution also brings risks. Britain’s existing settlement is already uneven, with different regions enjoying vastly different powers and resources. Burnham’s plans could widen those disparities, with powerful city regions negotiating bespoke deals while more rural counties struggle to compete. For agriculture, the danger is another layer of decision-makers without greater clarity over who ultimately speaks for food production.
At Defra, Burnham has appointed Dame Angela Eagle, an experienced minister but hardly someone whose career has been rooted in agriculture. Much attention has been paid to speculation about her personal diet, but that is largely irrelevant. The real question is whether she is prepared to elevate food production alongside the environmental and climate objectives that have increasingly dominated the department. Farming cannot simply remain one interest among many if Britain is serious about food security.
Rachel Reeves, meanwhile, has finally been shown the door at Number 11. Few in agriculture are likely to lament her departure. Indeed, the lettuce that famously outlasted Liz Truss might have proved a more popular resident of the chancellor’s office than Reeves, whose tenure convinced many farmers that agriculture would never rank highly in Treasury thinking. Rumours persist that Burnham offered her defence or even Defra. If the latter is true, it may have been a calculated offer, as it is difficult to imagine the architect of the inheritance tax changes provoking such anger across the countryside ever commanding the confidence of the rural sector.
John Healey now takes the Treasury. His appointment removes a chancellor widely regarded as reluctant to loosen the purse strings for farming, but expectations should remain measured. Healey is an experienced Labour figure who combines support for public investment with an equally strong commitment to fiscal discipline. Defra may set the rules of the game, but the Treasury still decides how much money is left in the pot.
There are opportunities. Research has suggested that reforming public procurement could channel around £1 billion more towards British farming by increasing the proportion of home-grown food bought by schools, hospitals and other public institutions. Burnham has spoken warmly about the idea. But governments have long found it easier to promise procurement reform than to implement it. Those hoping Reeves’ departure signals a spending renaissance may instead discover that, despite the new occupant, the salad in Number 11 remains firmly on rations.
Energy policy presents another familiar picture. Ed Miliband’s tenure at energy security and net zero left many farmers deeply uneasy, with concerns that the expansion of solar developments would consume productive farmland. Miliband insisted only a small proportion of agricultural land would ever be used and that the best soils would remain protected, but those assurances failed to convince many rural communities facing developments on their doorstep. Burnham has moved Miliband to the Foreign Office and appointed Miatta Fahnbulleh to energy, yet the strategic direction remains unchanged. Net zero continues to sit at the heart of Labour’s economic agenda.
Taken together, Burnham’s early decisions look less like a political revolution than an administrative redesign. Power may move further from Whitehall, but within largely familiar constitutional boundaries. Defra still faces the challenge of balancing food production with environmental ambition. The Treasury remains firmly committed to fiscal restraint, while energy policy continues on much the same course.
For farmers, the test will not be the rhetoric of change but the reality. Future support schemes, inheritance tax, land-use planning, food procurement and energy infrastructure will determine whether this government genuinely values agriculture as strategic national infrastructure or merely as scenery for broader political ambitions.
After seven prime ministers in a decade, rural Britain has every right to expect more than another round of ministerial musical chairs.
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