Andy Burnham Blasted for “Breathtaking Hypocrisy” as PM Poses as Champion of Britain’s High Streets
Andy Burnham wants to be seen as the Prime Minister who saves Britain’s high streets.
He wants to revive struggling town centres, restore community life and put local people back in control of what appears on their high streets. His latest proposals would give councils greater powers to block new vape shops, betting shops and adult gaming centres, while allowing tougher action against businesses suspected of illegal activity.
It is an attractive political message.
Britain’s high streets are clearly under pressure. Empty shops, boarded-up premises and declining footfall have become familiar sights in towns across the country. Traditional retailers have struggled against online competition, while some town centres have increasingly filled with businesses that provide fewer of the community services that shoppers once associated with a thriving high street.
Burnham says he wants to change that.
But his critics have a simple response: where was this concern when Labour policies were making life harder for businesses?
That is why accusations of “breathtaking hypocrisy” are beginning to resonate.
The Prime Minister can point to a genuine problem. He can argue that councils have not always had sufficient powers to shape the character of their town centres. And he can insist that communities should not be powerless while vape stores, betting outlets and other businesses multiply.
But there is a much bigger question.
Can Burnham genuinely claim to be the champion of Britain’s high streets if his government’s wider economic policies make it harder for small businesses to survive?
That is the political contradiction at the heart of his announcement.
The new proposals are certainly dramatic. Councils would gain more power to reject applications for betting shops and adult gaming centres, while vape shops would face additional planning controls. The government also intends to scrap the “aim to permit” rule under the Gambling Act, which currently makes it harder for councils to refuse some gambling applications.
There are sensible arguments behind these measures.
Local communities should have a say in the appearance and character of their town centres. Parents may reasonably object to vape shops opening close to schools. Residents may question whether a struggling town really needs another betting outlet when existing premises are already struggling to attract customers.
And where businesses are connected to organised crime or illegal activity, government should act.
No serious politician should defend criminal enterprises simply because they operate from a shopfront.
The problem is that high streets are not dying solely because there are too many vape shops or betting shops.
Their problems are much deeper.
Online shopping has transformed consumer behaviour.
Business rates can impose significant costs.
Commercial rents remain high in many locations.
Energy costs have placed pressure on retailers and hospitality businesses.
Staffing costs have risen.
And many consumers simply do not visit town centres as frequently as previous generations did.
Changing the type of shop on a high street cannot solve all of those problems.
A council might prevent another betting shop from opening.
But that does not automatically put a successful independent retailer in its place.
A vape shop might disappear.
That does not mean a bookshop, café or clothing store will suddenly move into the empty unit.
This is where Burnham’s political message risks becoming too simplistic.
A high street is not healthy merely because it contains the “right” types of businesses.
It is healthy when businesses can make enough money to survive.
That requires customers.
And customers require disposable income.
This is why the wider economic environment matters so much.
The Times has argued that Labour’s policies, including higher national insurance, business rates and increases in the minimum wage, have added to the pressure on physical businesses, particularly in hospitality. Its criticism is that Burnham cannot simply blame the appearance of high streets while ignoring the economic conditions affecting the businesses that operate there.
That criticism deserves an answer.
If the government genuinely wants to rescue Britain’s high streets, it should ask why a small business owner would choose to open a shop in a town centre in the first place.
The answer must be that doing so is economically viable.
That means customers must be there.
Taxes must be manageable.
Regulation must be understandable.
Property costs must be realistic.
And businesses must believe that they have a reasonable chance of making a profit.
No amount of planning reform can compensate for an economic environment in which opening a physical shop simply does not make financial sense.
Burnham’s defenders could argue that this is precisely why government intervention is necessary.
They would say that leaving everything to the market has not worked.
For years, online retailers have taken an increasing share of consumer spending, while town centres have struggled to adapt. Some businesses have closed, leaving vacant properties that can make neighbouring shops less attractive.
Once decline begins, it can become self-reinforcing.
Fewer shops mean fewer visitors.
Fewer visitors mean lower sales.
Lower sales lead to more closures.
More empty buildings make the town centre look less attractive.
And the cycle continues.
Burnham is therefore right that government cannot simply stand back and hope the problem disappears.
But intervention needs to be intelligent.
There is a risk that politicians start deciding what a “good” high street looks like without properly understanding what consumers actually want.
A town centre filled with independent cafés, bookshops, traditional retailers and attractive public spaces may sound wonderful.
But if consumers prefer to shop online, those businesses cannot be created simply through government regulation.
The high street has to earn its customers.
That means making town centres places where people actually want to spend time.
Transport matters.
Parking matters.
Clean streets matter.
Safety matters.
Public spaces matter.
Restaurants and entertainment matter.
Affordable housing nearby matters.
And, increasingly, digital connectivity matters.
Burnham’s plan touches some of these issues, particularly the problem of crime and disorder.
The government has proposed extending closure powers for rogue businesses suspected of criminal activity, while giving councils and police greater tools to intervene.
That could make a real difference.
A town centre where residents feel unsafe will struggle regardless of how attractive its shopfronts are.
But once again, enforcement is crucial.
If councils are given new powers without sufficient resources to use them, the announcement will achieve little.
Local authorities need planning officers.
They need enforcement teams.
They need cooperation from police.
And they need clear legal guidance.
Otherwise, the policy risks becoming another example of central government giving councils responsibility without giving them the means to deliver it.
There is also a question about fairness.
A legitimate business should not be punished simply because politicians dislike the industry in which it operates.
Betting shops, for example, are controversial, but they are legal businesses employing workers and paying taxes.
Vape shops are also legal.
The government therefore needs to distinguish between businesses that are undesirable in particular locations and businesses that are actually breaking the law.
That distinction matters in a free society.
Burnham’s government must be careful not to turn town-centre regeneration into an exercise in political taste.
The objective should be vibrant communities, not government-designed shopping districts.
And then there is the biggest political challenge of all.
Burnham wants to present himself as the champion of ordinary people.
His national political identity is built around the idea that Westminster has too often ignored communities outside the traditional centres of power.
That message has considerable appeal.
But small-business owners are ordinary people too.
The independent café owner is an ordinary person.
The pub landlord is an ordinary person.
The shopkeeper who has worked seven days a week for twenty years is an ordinary person.
The family running a small restaurant is an ordinary family.
If those people believe government is making their businesses more expensive and complicated to operate, Burnham’s high-street campaign could easily sound hollow.
This is why accusations of hypocrisy are politically dangerous.
They do not necessarily mean Burnham’s high-street policies are wrong.
They mean voters may question whether he has identified the real causes of the problem.
There is a difference between treating a symptom and treating a disease.
Vape shops and betting shops may be highly visible symptoms of high-street decline.
They are not necessarily its fundamental cause.
The fundamental causes are economic and social.
Consumers have changed.
Technology has changed.
Retail has changed.
Town centres have changed.
The government needs to help communities adapt to that reality rather than attempting to recreate an earlier version of Britain.
That could mean converting empty retail units into homes.
It could mean improving public transport.
It could mean reducing unnecessary bureaucracy.
It could mean targeted tax relief for struggling town centres.
It could mean supporting independent businesses during their most vulnerable first years.
It could mean investing in public spaces and community facilities.
And yes, it could mean giving councils greater control over which types of businesses dominate particular areas.
But all of these policies need to work together.
Burnham’s latest announcement is therefore neither the miracle solution his supporters may hope for nor the political disaster his critics claim.
It is a beginning.
The real test will be whether Britain’s high streets look and feel different several years from now.
If empty shops are replaced by thriving businesses, if footfall increases, if crime falls and if local communities regain confidence, Burnham will have earned the right to call himself a champion of the high street.
If nothing changes, voters will remember the photographs, speeches and announcements — and ask where the promised revival went.
There is one thing Burnham should understand above all.
Britain’s high streets do not need a Prime Minister to tell them what they should look like.
They need a government that makes it possible for businesses to succeed.
That means lower barriers where possible, sensible regulation, effective policing, functioning infrastructure and an economy in which ordinary families have enough money to spend.
Burnham has correctly recognised that Britain’s town centres matter.
They are not merely collections of shops.
They are places where communities meet, where businesses employ local people and where the health of a town can often be seen at a glance.
But if he really wants to save them, he must do more than attack the businesses he dislikes.
He must make the whole environment in which businesses operate healthier.
Otherwise, the charge of “breathtaking hypocrisy” will continue to follow him.
The Prime Minister cannot claim to be rescuing the high street while ignoring the pressures faced by the people who actually keep its doors open.
Britain’s high streets do need saving.
But they need more than a political makeover.
They need customers, investment, security, entrepreneurship and economic growth.
And above all, they need a government that understands that the best high street policy is not to decide who should succeed.
It is to create the conditions in which good businesses can succeed for themselves.