No one has yet made any money underestimating Sir Keir Starmer.1 He took over the Labour Party after one of its worst defeats but within a handful of years led it to one of its greatest victories. Enjoying a hundred-and-seventy-four seat majority, the new Prime Minister ought to have proven to his critics that he is in fact a very good politician. These last several weeks, however, I’ve wondered if he’s made some strategic errors that will come to frustrate him and jeopardise his re-election. Ironically, the errors are bound up with what won him power — his sombre persona.
Upon assuming new responsibilities, many politicians feel the need to become whatever they believe is expected of someone in that role. I once worked for someone who, after they became an MP, severely restricted their emotional range because they believed it’d be inappropriate for them to ever appear happy or sad or angry about things. They were now only ever pleased or disappointed — pleased that they’d won a billion pounds, disappointed they’d misplaced the lottery ticket, etc. As a result they faded into the backbenches and had a relatively short, very unremarkable career.
Starmer did something similar. Upon becoming Labour leader, he also restricted his emotional range. He too was only ever pleased or disappointed by things. Although some pundits say that he’s always been this way, it wasn’t how he comported himself when he was Shadow Brexit Secretary. Yet as one Conservative government after another fell apart, this restriction was marketed to voters as a virtue. Better to have as Prime Minister someone in control of their emotions rather than erratic Boris Johnson, impulsive Liz Truss, or perpetually visibly irritated Rishi Sunak. Given that their volatile personalities had helped worsen the public finances, Starmer’s equanimity would help him make “tough decisions” on taxes and spending which would return the country to prosperity. Things wouldn’t be easy if Labour won but voters could take comfort in knowing that someone serious was in charge. Reinforcing this message visually was the manifesto’s dour cover.
It’s very easy to overegg a good recipe, however — which I feel is what Starmer and his team may’ve done these last several weeks.
Firstly, they’ve not only kept the restricted emotional range, but dragged it down on the rhetorical scale. In Starmer’s big speech Tuesday about “fixing the foundations” of the country, he was unremittingly bleak. His overarching message was that everything is terrible and will only get worse but don’t worry because things might be marginally better several years from now.
Secondly, his team keeps shutting down any potential for a pivot to optimism. Whenever anyone asks why Starmer’s speeches must be so depressing, Labour spokespeople say that voters don’t want the “snakeoil” or “razzmatazz” of Boris Johnson. But these are not the only two options in political communications. Gordon Brown cultivated a sober image but could still deliver stirring rhetoric:
I mean, Kamala Harris and Tim Walz are able to talk upliftingly about the prospect of a fascist becoming leader of the Free World. Yet Keir Starmer has no choice but to bum you out about how best to apportion government expenditure? Voters are going to want to hear about the house that’ll go on top of the foundations that Labour is fixing. It doesn’t help the Prime Minister if, for years, they’re told he’s incapable of sketching it out for them.
Thirdly, no thought seems to have been given to which “tough decisions” ought to be taken and when. We know that a harrowing Budget is coming in October, along with probably controversial reforms to planning and the NHS. Yet the government is spending a lot of political capital on issues like an outdoor smoking ban and means-testing winter fuel allowance. If pressed on why, Labour spokespeople say: “We need to make tough decisions.” Okay but why these ones right now? After battling pensioners and publicans for the rest of the summer, new Labour MPs are going to be asked to vote for way more unpopular policies. In opposition, Starmer and his team were very good at not letting trivia obstruct their overarching message. These last several weeks in government, however, they seem to keep getting caught up in little stuff.
I can imagine a situation developing where Labour MPs are marshalled into supporting one “tough” minor decision after another; because none of them are part of an inspiring overarching message, they struggle to defend them to their constituents; then such is the hostility to them locally that, as the really tough decisions start to be made, they either press for u-turns or rebel; worried about this trend, Starmer tries to reset his premiership with a big speech about his vision for the country, only for almost every question he takes from journalists to be: “Isn’t this just snakeoil, Prime Minister?” Similar to the Tories in the last Parliament, despite having a large majority this government only really tinkers with the foundations — especially given big tax-raising measures are off the table, as well as any economically meaningful reset with the EU.
Now, I’m not saying that all this will happen — but I’m struggling to see what Starmer and his team are doing to make sure that it doesn’t. (As I discuss with Carl Cashman in the next episode of strategyaaron, this could present an opportunity to the Liberal Democrats as the “opposition-in-waiting”...)
But again, this is a Prime Minister who pulled off a rare electoral victory, so who am I to question him? He and his team have also made missteps before then corrected them. I’m just wondering if they’re creating unnecessary problems to correct…
Well, maybe Angela Rayner…