Are twee comms, influencers and TikTok clips all we’ll get from an Andy Burnham government?

Everywhere, not just in politics, comms is replacing marketing meaning that the focus shifts from longer term brand building towards immediate media narratives.

There was a point some time in the last ten to fifteen years when people stopped being press officers, public relations managers or public affairs executives and started telling us that they “work in comms, yah”. In the manner of other now ubiquitous shortenings (“what uni did you go to?”) the term ‘comms’ reeks of laziness and the pidginising of language. And, in marketing, the victory of the short over long term and the belief that branding is simply vibe without real substance. This was always a problem with every day public relations for the main reason that PR was often reactive because that’s where the crisis landed. Also PR was more concerned with managing the vibe around events and found too little time for real strategic thinking about the brand. Worse PR became seen, through people like Max Clifford, as a bit sleazy and, because of the malign media approach of men like Alistair Campbell, associated with spin and deception.

In my marketing days the term ‘comms’ didn’t simply mean a contraction of the word ‘communications’. Having the ‘comms’ ready was more about the medium for sending the message and often simply referred to the technical capacity to communicate. It is interesting to read local government PR guru Peter Holt talking about PR versus communications:

“...does using communications create a sub-conscious perception that self-limits our role to being all about the channels – the tactical work, rather than making a strategic contribution? Does it unhelpfully help anchor ourselves to the centre of our organisations, rather than being about engaging face to face with the public.”

The genie is, however, out of the bottle and ‘comms’ is the preferred term and, for governments, at every level has become seemingly the most important function. When Andy Burnham set up Number 10 North the first job adverts weren’t for policy wonks or tech gurus but for a dozen or so comms people to cover everything from social media to video. It does seem now that the primary purpose of Number 10, whether north or south, is the management and co-ordination of the government’s communications. There’s nothing particularly new about this function, we can go back to Alistair Campbell’s notorious ‘grid’ to see that Number 10 sees its role as one of keeping ministers, advisors and even civil servants entirely on message and in making sure that the timings of those messages cohere to a ‘plan’.

It does seem (and Number 10 recruiting for posts like ‘social strategy’, ‘social videographer’ and ‘social creative’ point to this) that Andy Burnham’s priority is communicating the message rather than the substance of that message. And examples like the prime minister and chancellor discussing pub snacks or the British and Irish PMs bantering about tea suggest that the Paddington Bear principle, replacing substance with twee, is firmly embedded in Number 10’s comms strategy.

We seem to have replaced Sir Keir Starmer’s government of and for lawyers with government by TikTok video, YouTube short and Facebook reel. John Power in the Spectator talks about this trend suggesting, in marketing terms at least, that politicians could learn from Andrew Tate (the politicians unfortunately don’t need lessons on sleaze and bad sexual behaviour) in using clipping services. It appears that the domination of short-form video in comms - I hesitate to use the term marketing here - is going to transform the way in which our leaders communicate. I’m sure that, in terms of reach, the clips of Andy Burnham and Micheál Martin talking about tea are far better than would be a traditional press conference.

But while it might be refreshing to see our politicians as human (or at least with carefully curated humanity) the essential problem with politics remains: the public does not trust politics believing politicians routinely lie. In 2005 the University of Southampton published an analysis of trends in political trust from the 1950s across over 100 countries:

“Whereas trust in representative institutions is generally in decline, trust in non-representative institutions such as the police, civil service and the legal system has remained stable or rising, pointing to a particular crisis of confidence in countries’ elected representatives.”

People’s trust in ‘non-representative’ institutions might be misplaced but the view of politicians perhaps isn’t. And I doubt that damaged political brands will be rescued by TikTok accounts or YouTube shorts. The inevitably short-term outlook of politicians (increasingly driven by the need to look good on the media cycle and obsessing over myriads of opinion polls rather than by the electoral cycle) means, however, that the damaged brand won’t get the attention it needs. If it does get some attention, as appears to be the case with Kemi Badenoch and the Conservative Party, the response is that the leader has their eye off the ball and should focus more on getting the comms right.

Everywhere, not just in politics, comms is replacing marketing meaning that the focus shifts from longer term brand building towards immediate media narratives. Marketers and advertisers have always been suckers for trends but if every day is spent chasing the narrative rather than building your own narrative then brands become fragile and risk damage simply by trying to surf the zeitgeist. By emphasising comms as comms rather than as part of a wider marketing strategy, Number 10, like other brand owners, will discover that giving your audiences a smile only works for as long as they don’t rumble the lack of a plan. Governments should absolutely be using TikTok, YouTube and Instagram as well as employing the annoying but seemingly ubiquitous influencers. But these must be marketing tactics not the strategy.

Andy Burnham does seem to recognise the things that bother the public (or at least some of them) but you get the feeling that having spotted that people face spiralling bills the approach is simply to echo that feeling by talking about the cost-of-living without offering anything beyond the superficial by way of response. We get free breakfasts for primary school kids and tiny discounts on rollercoaster rides rather than a coherent strategy to either make people richer or things cheaper (or ideally both).

What we now have is Burnham’s fresh, keen experts trying to retrofit a plan for government onto their social media tactics, a recipe for populism not good government. If what matters is whether a policy is TikTok-able then the tough choices around spending cuts, tax rises, regulations, national security and crime won’t make it through. Instead we’ll get a stream of gimmicks and rewashed successes combined with clips of the PM eating a biscuit or wearing a football scarf. And for all the profile this gets, the public will see through it.

Without a plan, a marketing strategy and a programme for government we are left with twee comms as the defining feature of government. Getting better at the socials is great but if that’s to be Andy Burnham’s defining contribution to the government of Britain he will be a disaster.