Starmer is wounded, Labour is drifting left, and Britain is sleepwalking into fiscal danger as debt, stagnation and political fear tighten their grip on a country running out of time.
I have seen this movie before. The triumphant leader walks into Downing Street like a conqueror. The polls sing. The cameras flash. Then the lights flicker. Ratings crash. Allies scatter. And Number 10 turns into a bunker with better wallpaper. Britain does not just have instability anymore. It has made it a habit.
Sir Keir Starmer was supposed to end the chaos. After
Labour’s landslide in 2024, he spoke like a man planning to govern for a
decade. Now he is Britain’s fourth prime minister in 4 years. That is not a
transition. That is turbulence. Local elections loom in 12 weeks, and the air
smells like panic.
The scandal that detonated his authority was not a
thunderclap. It was a slow fuse. The revelation that Peter Mandelson was
appointed ambassador to America despite Sir Keir knowing about the length of
his friendship with Jeffrey Epstein shattered the carefully polished image of a
dull but competent reformer. Epstein’s name is political napalm. Once it
sticks, it stains. Mandelson has long been a survivor of political storms, but
this time the splash damage hit the prime minister himself. The aides who built
Sir Keir’s swaggering machine resigned. The cabinet secretary is leaving. The
strongman image evaporated. What remains is a leader clinging to office but not
power.
I can almost hear the muttering in Westminster corridors.
“Just survive,” one voice says. “Don’t rock the boat,” another whispers.
Survival is not strategy. It is drift with better lighting. Britain does not
have the luxury of drift. Growth is sluggish. The Office for National
Statistics shows UK GDP growth in 2023 at 0.1%. In 2024 it improved modestly,
but living standards remain under pressure. Real wages only recently recovered
to pre-2008 levels after more than a decade of stagnation. That is not just an
economic statistic. That is a lost era.
Public debt hovers around 100% of GDP. The Office for
Budget Responsibility has warned that debt interest payments have surged as
rates climbed, reaching levels not seen since the late 1980s as a share of GDP.
The Institute for Fiscal Studies has repeatedly said that demographic pressure,
especially an ageing population, will strain health and pension spending in
coming decades. Rearmament is back on the table as NATO members respond to
Russia’s war in Ukraine. Defence spending targets of 2% of GDP look modest in a
world on edge.
So what does a weakened prime minister do in this storm?
He retreats. And when Labour retreats, it does not drift right. It drifts left.
Sir Keir once sold himself as the brake on his party’s
left wing. He purged Jeremy Corbyn. He promised discipline. He talked about
fiscal responsibility. But power is physics. When gravity shifts, leaders fall.
The parliamentary Labour Party today is not the New Labour of Tony Blair. The
centre of gravity moved during the austerity years of the 2010s. Many MPs came
of age politically during spending cuts and public sector restraint. They do
not want restraint. They want reversal.
Labour members will choose the next leader if Sir Keir
falls. Surveys of party members have shown strong support for higher taxes and
higher public spending. The gap between members and voters is wide. Only about
20% of voters consistently support large tax increases to fund more spending,
according to long-running British Social Attitudes surveys. Inside the party,
the appetite is stronger. That tension will not disappear. It will pull policy
leftward.
Already Sir Keir has shifted tone. He now talks about
“putting money in people’s pockets” as the priority, rather than focusing first
on productivity and growth. That sounds compassionate. It is also expensive.
Without growth, redistribution becomes a shrinking pie fight. I have seen that
movie too. It ends in bond market lectures.
Remember 2022. Liz Truss unveiled unfunded tax cuts. Gilt
yields spiked. Pension funds wobbled. The Bank of England intervened. Markets
can humble governments faster than voters. If Labour responds to political
weakness by handing out fiscal sweets without structural reform, investors may
test its nerve. Debt markets are not sentimental. They price risk.
The instinct inside a shaken party is unity at all costs.
Unity sounds noble. In practice it means lowest-common-denominator politics.
Welfare reform becomes radioactive. Education reform stalls if it irritates
unions. Civil service overhaul gets postponed because confrontation feels
risky. Planning reform, one of the few bright spots, may soften as
environmental concerns and local opposition regain ground. Nature versus
developers is not just a slogan. It is a vote bank.
I imagine the closed-door meeting. An MP pounds the
table. “We didn’t get into politics to cut benefits.” Another adds, “Our voters
expect help, not lectures.” The prime minister nods. He backs down. The “Ming
vase” strategy that protected him in opposition now sits empty. It was designed
to avoid breaking anything. Governing requires breaking inertia.
History offers a warning. In the 1970s Britain faced
stagnation, high inflation, industrial unrest. Governments lurched. Markets
lost confidence. In 1976 the UK sought an IMF bailout. That humiliation
reshaped politics for a generation. Today inflation has fallen from its 2022
peak above 11% back toward target, but the scars remain. Productivity growth
has been weak since the global financial crisis. The Resolution Foundation has
described the UK’s productivity slowdown as one of the worst among advanced economies.
Political fragmentation adds another layer. Voter loyalty
to major parties has eroded. Smaller parties like Reform UK and the Greens
siphon off chunks of the electorate. Governing on a low vote share is the new
normal. Call an election now and Labour could lose hundreds of seats. Fear of
that scenario will paralyse bold reform.
And so the drift begins. More scepticism of big tech.
Palantir becomes a symbol in internal debates. Louder pro-European tones, which
may be sensible economically, but only if matched with tough negotiation. More
spending promises. Fewer structural fights. Meanwhile the numbers tick. Debt
interest accumulates. Health and social care demands rise. Defence commitments
expand. The Office for Budget Responsibility has warned that long-term
pressures from ageing and climate transition could push debt higher without
policy change. Ignoring that warning is not compassion. It is postponement.
I walk through this argument with a grim smile. Britain
wanted stability after years of Conservative drama. It got a landslide. But
landslides can bury their architects. Sir Keir’s humiliation is greater
precisely because expectations were higher. He promised a decade. He may be
lucky to survive the season.
What happens next? Perhaps a moderniser emerges from
Labour’s ranks, someone willing to confront the fiscal math and the party’s
comfort zones. Perhaps the Conservatives under Kemi Badenoch craft a sharper
economic narrative from the right. Reform UK currently leads some polls, but
beyond anti-immigration rhetoric it offers thin policy detail. Disruption is
not a plan.
For now, I see a government that governs cautiously
because it is afraid. Afraid of its members. Afraid of markets. Afraid of
voters who sour quickly. Fear makes leaders shrink. And when leaders shrink,
policy slides toward the path of least resistance. Britain’s predicament will
get worse before it gets better. The economic headwinds are real. The fiscal
arithmetic is stubborn. The political centre is fragile. With Sir Keir Starmer
weakened, the gravitational pull inside Labour will drag the government
leftward, toward spending promises and away from painful reform. That may
soothe party nerves. It will not solve structural decline.
I do not say this with pleasure. I say it because I have
watched Westminster long enough to know that drift feels comfortable until it
meets the wall. And Britain, boxed in by debt, demographics and distrust, is
inching toward that wall. The only question is who is holding the wheel when
the impact comes.
On a different but
equally important note, readers who enjoy thoughtful analysis may also find the
titles in my “Brief Book Series” worth exploring. Read
it here on Google Play: Brief Book Series.

No comments:
Post a Comment