Are we all Northern now?

I can still remember the day Margaret Thatcher stood at the Conservative Party Conference and declared, “We are a grandmother now.” It was one of those political moments that became bigger than the words themselves. It spoke to an age, a set of values and a particular view of Britain. Whether you agreed with it or not, it captured a mood and the moment.

Forty years on, another phrase has been rattling around in my head. Andy Burnham has not actually said it, but as I watch the early days of his premiership, I find myself wondering whether the message coming from Downing Street is something like: we’re all Northern now. That thought makes me smile.

As someone who is a northerner to some and a southerner to others, having grown up in the Midlands and been educated in a comprehensive school, I have spent most of my life inhabiting a place somewhere between the two. The Midlands has always been a geographical and cultural borderland. We understand the north and the south because we are neither entirely one nor the other. We borrow a bit from both. We are comfortable in the middle.  That might have been an advantage sometimes, but not always.

Regular readers will know that the idea of the middle has occupied much of my thinking over recent years. It became the central theme of my book, Find Joy in the Middle. The book is not really about geography. It is about recognising that life is often lived in the spaces between extremes. Between success and failure. Between youth and old age. Between certainty and doubt. Between arrival and aspiration. The middle, I argued, is not something to endure. It is somewhere to embrace.  Perhaps that is why I find this moment politically fascinating.  After all, the fifth of my main chapters was about the ‘middle ground’ and politics appeared throughout some of the others.

For decades, British politics seemed dominated by a southern gravitational pull. Power, influence, media attention, investment and ambition were drawn towards London and the South East. Even when the north voted the government in, it had a distinct metropolitan and elitist bent.  Regional identities survived, of course, but often as colourful footnotes rather than defining features of national life.  Think Blair and Prescott. 

Burnham represents something different. His political story, whilst formed in Westminster, was built in a city region. His reputation was built through his advocacy for Greater Manchester and through a belief that power works best when it is closer to people and places. We all know that of course.  As Prime Minister, he has already signalled an intention to continue that devolutionary journey.

What interests me most is not whether more government departments move north or whether Treasury spending patterns change. Important as those things are, there is another shift taking place.  The cultural centre of gravity appears to be moving too.  I have noticed it in myself.

Lately, I find myself dusting off my flatter vowels and leaning more readily into some of the rustic vernacular that has always been there. Not that I ever deliberately concealed it. But like many people who have navigated professional environments over several decades, I became adept at smoothing the rough edges. Softening certain words. Modifying an accent here and there. Adapting to the expectations of national institutions that often felt culturally southern.

Now, for the first time in a while, I sense a subtle reversal. The things that once felt like disadvantages increasingly look like advantages.  Regional accents sound less like obstacles and more like authenticity.  Local identity feels less like something that needs explaining and more like something worth celebrating. Being rooted somewhere is becoming fashionable again.

Perhaps age has something to do with it. One of the freedoms that comes with getting older is caring a little less about other people’s assumptions. But I suspect it is bigger than that. The country itself seems to be reconsidering what leadership looks and sounds like.  For those of us working in the world of children, families, education and early years, that matters.

Because some of the most important innovations in public service have emerged not from the centre but from places. They emerge when local leaders understand local communities, when solutions are designed with people rather than for them and when power is distributed rather than concentrated. In that sense, “we’re all Northern now” is not really about the North at all.  It is about valuing place.  It is about challenging the assumption that wisdom only resides in central institutions.  It is about recognising that thriving communities do not need to be identical to be successful.  And perhaps it is also about becoming more comfortable with who we are.

One of the central messages of Find Joy in the Middle is that fulfilment often comes when we stop striving to become someone else and start appreciating where we actually stand. The same may be true for nations as well as individuals.  Britain has spent many years searching for grand ideological answers. Maybe what we need is a little more confidence in our towns, our cities, our regions and our communities. Maybe we need to trust the wisdom that exists outside the centre.  As a Midlander, I am not about to start claiming full northern status. I know better than that. There are people in Yorkshire who would never permit it.

I admit I am enjoying this moment.  I am enjoying hearing different voices at the centre of national debate.  I am enjoying the growing confidence of places that have often felt overlooked.  And I am enjoying the possibility that the characteristics once dismissed as provincial may turn out to be exactly what modern Britain needs.  If that means flattening my vowels a little more and allowing the occasional piece of rustic Midlands vernacular to slip into conversation, then so be it.  After all, perhaps the middle has finally become the centre.