In an era when progressive governance across Europe has largely retreated or collapsed, Spain's Pedro Sánchez has held power since 2018 by doing something deceptively simple: he chose a side and delivered on it. His journey from centrist compromise to continent-wide progressive standard-bearer offers a quiet rebuke to the cautious incrementalism now defining Andy Burnham's early tenure in Downing Street. The question his example poses is ancient and unresolved — whether political courage precedes electoral success, or merely follows it.
Sánchez's playbook: How Spain's PM mastered progressive politics—and what Burnham can learn
He understood that anchoring his party to the left is where he could govern.
Mark
So Sánchez wasn't always this firebrand progressive figure we see now. How much of his transformation was genuine conviction versus pure political calculation?
Mimi
That's the right question, and the honest answer is: it doesn't matter much. Sánchez himself has said he's not necessarily a committed ideologue. What he understood was that the left-wing space was where his party could actually win and govern. He filled that space, and he stayed in it. The conviction followed the positioning.
Mark
But doesn't that make him cynical? Just another politician chasing votes?
Mimi
Not if you look at what he actually did. He didn't just talk about renewables or raising the minimum wage or banning conversion therapy. He implemented these things. Hundreds of policies. That's not cynicism—that's pragmatism with teeth. He made the left-wing position real by delivering material change.
Mark
And that's what Burnham hasn't done yet?
Mimi
Burnham promised boldness and then went quiet. He hasn't staked out the progressive ground and defended it. Instead, Labour attacked the left. Sánchez did the opposite—he occupied the left so completely that the actual left-wing party collapsed. That's power.
Mark
So the lesson is: be bold on the things that matter to your base, and don't apologize for it?
Mimi
Exactly. Sánchez didn't apologize for letting migrants dock in Spain. He didn't apologize for saying climate change kills. He made the case for why these positions were right, and he showed voters what they would lose if he lost power. That's how you keep the left together and win elections.
Mark
What about the corruption scandals? How does he survive those?
Mimi
He's still in office, but they're real damage. The difference is that his policy record is strong enough that voters haven't abandoned him entirely. If he had nothing to show for eight years except scandals, he'd be finished. The policies are his shield.
Der Puls
- Sánchez was written off twice — as a weak centrist and then as a defeated exile — before rebuilding himself into Europe's most combative left-wing leader, proving that reinvention is a governing strategy, not just a campaign one.
- Corruption scandals, a stalled budget, and sliding local poll numbers have created real fragility at home, yet Sánchez has used bold foreign policy — recognizing Palestinian statehood, defying Washington over Iran — to sustain a sense of momentum that domestic politics could no longer provide.
- His 2023 near-defeat became a victory by reframing the election as a referendum on democracy itself, anchoring the choice not in ideology but in the concrete, material things voters stood to lose — a lesson in how stakes, not slogans, move electorates.
- Burnham's Labour is already hemorrhaging voters to the Greens at nearly four times the rate it loses them to Reform, a signal that silence on immigration and climate is not safety — it is slow abandonment of the progressive coalition that put him in office.
- Where Sánchez occupied the left so thoroughly that Podemos collapsed from 26 percent to 3 percent, Burnham's caution has left progressive space open, and voters are filling it elsewhere.
In an era when progressive governance across Europe has largely retreated or collapsed, Spain's Pedro Sánchez has held power since 2018 by doing something deceptively simple: he chose a side and delivered on it. His journey from centrist compromise to continent-wide progressive standard-bearer offers a quiet rebuke to the cautious incrementalism now defining Andy Burnham's early tenure in Downing Street. The question his example poses is ancient and unresolved — whether political courage precedes electoral success, or merely follows it.
Pedro Sánchez has achieved something that looked impossible: sustained left-wing governance in an era of progressive retreat. Since taking office in June 2018, Spain's prime minister has become Europe's most defiant progressive voice — condemning the Trump administration's conduct over Iran, recognizing Palestinian statehood, and earning the half-ironic international nickname El Guapo. None of it was inevitable.
He began as a centrist compromise, elected leader of Spain's Socialist Workers' Party in 2014 with modest expectations. After electoral losses and an internal coup forced him out in 2016, he drove across Spain listening to grassroots members and left-wing voters who felt abandoned. He returned as party leader in 2017 and prime minister in 2018 — a different politician than the one who had left.
In office, he made a deliberate choice to govern from the left rather than toward the centre. He delivered: renewables investment, minimum wage increases, expanded abortion rights, rent caps, a ban on conversion therapy, and tax shifts that favoured lower earners. These were not gestures. They were changes people could feel.
The domestic picture has since grown difficult. Corruption scandals have touched those close to him. His coalition has not passed a budget since 2023. Local elections have gone badly. But his 2023 general election result remains the sharpest lesson available: facing likely defeat, he reframed the contest as a choice between democracy and the far-right, and pointed to the concrete protections voters would lose under a right-wing government. He won.
For Andy Burnham, now in Downing Street, the contrast is uncomfortable. Burnham arrived promising boldness but has gone quiet on the issues — immigration, climate — where Sánchez has been most proactive. Sánchez let a rescue ship dock in Valencia, moved to regularize undocumented migrants, and refused to pander when tens of thousands crossed into Ceuta. The result was that immigration barely registered as a concern among Spanish voters. On climate, he declared it a killer and spent accordingly. Burnham banned barbecues.
The electoral consequence is already visible. Labour lost nearly four times as many voters to the Greens as to Reform in the 2026 local elections — not because the right outflanked them, but because the left found somewhere else to go. Sánchez's example suggests that occupying progressive ground boldly, and delivering materially on it, is what collapses the parties to your left and holds the coalition together. Caution, in this reading, is not a shelter. It is a slow concession.
Pedro Sánchez has done something that seemed impossible: he has kept the left in power. While progressive leaders across Europe have stumbled and fallen, Spain's prime minister has held the line since June 2018, and in doing so, he has become something unexpected—Europe's most defiant left-wing voice on the world stage. He has called out the Trump administration's war in Iran as a smokescreen for failure. He has named Israel's actions in Gaza what he believes them to be: genocide. The international press, perhaps not entirely seriously, calls him El Guapo. But the nickname sticks because it reflects something real: Sánchez has made himself matter.
Yet the story of how he got here is not the story of a lifelong radical. Sánchez was first elected leader of Spain's Socialist Workers' Party in 2014 as a centrist compromise candidate. Few expected much from him. His first tenure ended badly—electoral losses, internal revolt, party grandees forcing him out in 2016. What followed was a calculated reinvention. He got in his car and drove across Spain, positioning himself as a man who would listen to grassroots members and left-wing voters who had been ignored. By the summer of 2017, he was party leader again. By June 2018, he was prime minister. The transformation was complete.
Once in office, Sánchez made a deliberate choice. He understood that anchoring his party to the left, and positioning himself as the leader of a wider progressive coalition, was where he could actually govern. In 2019, he pledged to implement hundreds of progressive policies—and he largely delivered. He invested heavily in renewables. He raised the minimum wage. He extended abortion rights and banned conversion therapy. He capped rent increases and raised taxes on the wealthy while cutting them for lower earners. These were not symbolic gestures. They were material changes to people's lives.
The domestic picture, however, has grown complicated. Corruption scandals have touched his inner circle—his brother, his wife, his predecessor. His minority coalition government has not passed a budget since 2023. His party has lost local elections. Polling shows the Socialists faltering. A general election looms next year. In response, Sánchez did what pragmatists do: he shifted focus outward. His foreign policy became bolder, more defiant. He refused to let the United States use Spanish bases to strike Iran. Spain formally recognized Palestinian statehood in 2024. He hosted a star-studded gathering of international progressives in Barcelona in April. This international positioning has helped him maintain a sense of momentum at home, even as his domestic popularity has declined.
But the 2023 election result offers the clearest lesson. Sánchez was on the brink of defeat. The right-wing People's Party led the polls. The far-right Vox seemed poised to enter government. Then Sánchez reframed the entire contest: this was not about left versus right, but about democracy itself versus the far-right threat. More importantly, he pointed to concrete things voters would lose—the policies he had actually delivered, the protections that would vanish under a right-wing government. He won by making the stakes material and real.
This matters for Andy Burnham, the UK's new prime minister, who faces his own test. Burnham came to office promising boldness—he announced his intent to end homelessness on day one. Since then, he has gone quiet. On immigration and climate, two issues that divide progressives from much of the right, he has said almost nothing. Sánchez took the opposite approach. When 629 people rescued off Libya needed a port, Sánchez let the ship dock in Valencia. He has moved to regularize undocumented migrants. When 72,000 Moroccans crossed into Ceuta last month, he did not pander to the right or bow to European pressure. The result: only 4.8 percent of Spaniards named immigration as their biggest concern in June, barely higher than the 3.9 percent who did in January. On climate, Sánchez declared that climate change kills and spent billions on the green transition. Burnham, by contrast, banned barbecues.
By occupying the progressive space boldly and without apology, Sánchez has consolidated the left-wing vote. Podemos, the party to his left, has collapsed from 26 percent in polling to 3 percent. His coalition partner Sumar has also declined. Meanwhile, Burnham's Labour party lost nearly four times as many voters to the Greens as to Reform in the 2026 local elections—a direct result of attacking the left rather than defending it. The lesson is stark: polarizing against the right works for the centre-left only if you deliver on material issues and occupy the progressive ground yourself. Without that, you are left with empty opposition, and voters will find somewhere else to go.
Bemerkenswerte Zitate
You cannot answer one illegality with another, because that is how the great catastrophes of humanity begin— Sánchez, refusing to approve US military use of Spanish bases to strike Iran
Sánchez understands that anchoring his party to the left and positioning himself as the leader of a wider progressive bloc is where he can govern. He's a very impressive pragmatist.— Eoghan Gilmartin, Madrid-based journalist
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