This Thursday, Chancellor Rachel Reeves will take the stage to decry government waste and call upon the private sector to help find savings. But after her recent hike in employers’ National Insurance, will businesses, now forced to tighten their belts, be eager to come to her aid? Many are already grappling with a future of higher costs, driven by increased taxes and mounting regulatory burdens.

Reeves’ approach to fiscal responsibility hasn’t just started there. Recently, she announced yet another taxpayer-funded quango —- the so-called “Office for Value for Money.” This new body is supposedly tasked with maximising every pound of taxpayers cash. Yet, ironically, it will be headed by David Goldstone, whose track record of overseeing budget-busting projects, like HS2 and the Government Olympic Executive, hardly raises hopes. Adding insult to injury, Goldstone’s position will come with a hefty salary which is equivalent to £250,000 a year — a figure that seems directly at odds with the office’s supposed mission of public savings.

It would be laughable if it weren’t so serious. This “Office for Value for Money” isn’t an isolated example; rather, it’s part of a broader pattern within Labour’s policy. Namely, to expand the already bloated quangocracy.

Reeves and Starmer’s government has already created a litany of new quangos — GB Energy, Skills England, the National Wealth Fund — all of which exemplify their commitment to fattening the state and consolidating “expert” opinion for their policy goals. With the proliferation of these bodies, the Labour government appears to be committing to a vision of Britain where the public sector continually grows and where more governance is done by backroom bureaucrats rather than frontline, democratically accountable politicians.

This approach has led some to observe that Labour is bent on “enriching, empowering, and emboldening” the public sector, while relegating the private sector to the role of a mere cash cow. And while this critique is accurate, it still begs the question: why are Keir Starmer and Rachel Reeves so committed to this path? What is behind this seemingly instinctive dedication to the public sector and quango expansionism?

One simple answer might be to call them socialists. Starmer has, at times, leaned into this label while Reeves has been more reticent. But in reality, Starmer has abandoned many of the socialist pledges he initially championed. Since taking power, he has supported legislation to crack down on benefit fraud, proposed means testing for winter fuel payments, and refused to abolish the two-child benefit cap — decisions that imply a departure from the “socialist” label that many on the right have been quick to pin to him.

So Starmer, Reeves and their comrades are not socialists, what is the defining ideology of this Labour government? James Burnham provides us with the answer: managerialism.

For Burnham, these managers … operate not out of ideological commitment but rather from a desire to expand their own control

Burnham, a former Trotskyite who became a darling of Cold War-era American conservatism, argued in The Managerial Revolution that the future would not be shaped by a battle between capitalism and socialism. Instead, he foresaw the rise of a managerial class — a new elite, distinct from both capitalists and traditional socialists, that would emerge to govern both the economy and the state. For Burnham, these managers are the technical overseers and coordinators of production, entities who operate not out of ideological commitment but rather from a desire to expand their own control over complex, unwieldy systems.

In Burnham’s view, the modern state and economy would become so complex that neither capitalists nor socialists could effectively control it. Instead, a managerial class would step in, using technical and bureaucratic expertise to expand their influence. This elite, Burnham argued, would steadily replace traditional power structures and its ruling elite with a managerial state which would increasingly subsume both the public and private sectors

Labour’s cabinet today seems to epitomise this managerial mindset. While there are a few socialist ideological holdouts, most of Labour’s leadership is drawn from a class of academics, lawyers, and public sector apparatchiks — figures with little firsthand experience in business, finance, or technology. This background fosters a natural inclination towards expanding the state, entrenching bureaucratic structures, and empowering the very quangos that have long contributed to the government’s bloat, inefficiency, and waste.

This stands in vivid contrast to the political shifts seen across the Atlantic. In the United States, Donald Trump’s recent victory and the rise of supportive tech-bros with libertarian instincts has signalled a new push against managerial elitism. However, the UK seems to be moving in the opposite direction. By expanding Britain’s quangocracy and entrenching the managerial elite, Starmer and Reeves are cultivating an environment that rewards bureaucrats and sidelines productive enterprise. 

Labour’s embrace of managerialism may feel comforting to its leaders. After all, a bloated public sector filled with familiar faces and like-minded experts offers security, stability, and control. But for Britain, this managerial revolution risks solidifying a state that grows increasingly disconnected from practical realities, stifling the private sector, and imposing a long-term drag on innovation and productivity.

The quangocracy is a perfect example of this shift. Quangos, ostensibly created to improve efficiency, expertise and oversight, often lead to the opposite result — absorbing vast amounts of taxpayer funds while delivering diminishing and even harmful returns. History is rife with examples of failed quangos, from those designed to oversee ambitious infrastructure projects to those meant to tackle social issues. A deeper dive into Labour’s newly established quangos — what functions they intend to serve, how much they’ll cost, and what safeguards (if any) are in place to ensure they meet their goals — only reinforces the argument that Labour’s model, for all of the reformist rhetoric, is one of bureaucratic expansion.

In this light, the Conservatives and Reform UK have a critical opportunity (and some might argue an obligation) to reject this vision of Britain.

Opposing Labour’s managerialism isn’t just about reducing taxes or spending taxpayers money more effectively; it’s about articulating a vision for governance that empowers innovation, promotes efficiency, and reins in the quangocracy that Labour is so eagerly expanding. Concrete proposals could include specific cuts to redundant quangos, accountability measures for public bodies, and a focus on enabling the private sector to engender the growth that Britain so desperately needs.

Ultimately, if the Conservatives and Reform wish to provide a meaningful alternative, they need to address the problem of the managerial state head-on. They must argue for a Britain that celebrates the productive over the bureaucratic, and one that values entrepreneurial spirit over endless managerial control.

For now, however, Labour’s managerial revolution marches forward, locking Britain’s future into the grip of quangos, bureaucrats, and a bloated public sector. Left unchecked, it will build a country where “expertise” equals inefficiency, and where governing becomes an exercise in expanding bureaucratic fiefdoms.

For those who want a leaner, more effective and more responsive government, the time to resist Britain’s growing managerial class is now. We have nothing to lose but our quangos.