Keir Starmer, a man who has perfected the art of the political U-turn so completely he could win an Olympic medal for it, has been at it again. This time, the acrobatics are focused on the government’s fiscal policy. When confronted with figures suggesting the need for “substantial tax rises,” our Prime Minister responded with the kind of decisive-sounding non-committal that has become his hallmark. He “doesn’t recognise” the figures, he says, but also hasn’t explicitly ruled out tax hikes. It’s a masterful display of having his cake and vaguely promising to eat it later, maybe. The budget, he assures us, will be “later in the year.” So, for now, we’ll just have to wait with bated breath and our wallets open, prepared for any and all eventualities, or none at all.
His commitment to decisive inaction wasn’t limited to domestic finances.
On the international stage, Starmer’s government has been criticised for its lack of action over a new policy from the Israeli security cabinet. While condemning the plan, his words were deemed to “fall far short” by political observers. It’s a classic move: a strong statement of disapproval, followed by a quiet retreat from any actual, meaningful action. The Prime Minister’s brand of diplomacy seems to involve a sternly worded letter and the hope that everyone will just sort it out for themselves. It’s a strategy that relies heavily on the goodwill of others, and very little on his own ability to influence events.
This is the Starmer way. He is a man who promises to take back control, but then finds himself struggling to get a grip on his own policy direction. He’s a tightrope walker without a tightrope, a man who talks about building a better future while constantly looking back at the last one, trying to figure out which bits he wants to borrow. He is the political equivalent of a weather vane on a windless day: an ornament of direction, but ultimately pointing nowhere at all.
Kierless Whispers 