Keir Starmer’s premiership is well and truly goosed. One policy misstep after another, punctuated by tone-deaf doom-mongering and a freebies scandal that refuses to go away, have exposed Labour as a thoroughly undercooked governmental prospect. Some wrongly chalk this up to the fact the general election was called a little sooner than expected, but rarely has a Labour leader inherited political circumstances so favourable and yet still managed to cock things up so completely.
Rearranging his team may provide Sir Keir with a comforting sense that a corner is being turned, but the fact that he has been forced into a reset just 100 days into his premiership tells us much about his own poor judgement. Nothing encapsulates this core political defect more than Starmer’s mishandling of the donors issue. The smug and dismissive attitude with which he and his Cabinet attempted to downplay and dismiss the accusations as they began making headlines ahead of the Labour Party conference a fortnight ago was truly a sight to behold. The brazen attempt to recast their freeloading as somehow virtuous, and the growing anger as misplaced tittle-tattle, offered clear signs that power had already begun its corruptive process. And the story of politics being awash with private wealth won’t go away no matter how much Morgan McSweeney wants it to, because this is the story of politics in Britain — and it has been for decades.
The idea that moguls and big business expect nothing in return for their “kindness” is an insult to the intelligence of any reasonable person. Aristotle warned us about this long ago. The ancient practice of corrupting political hearts with flattering gifts is nothing new, and it is effective precisely because it feels harmless to those being lavished with special attention for the first time. But if donors aren’t in it for a political favour somewhere down the line, then why are nurses, GPs, teachers, police and firefighters — arguably far worthier of such generosity — not permanently inundated with gifts? Surely terminally ill children or destitute single mothers fleeing domestic abuse could do with a night out at a Taylor Swift gig. What is it about people in power which so effortlessly elicits the boundless generosity of the wealthy — if not some form of self-interest?
The tedious line they have attempted to spin over the course of the scandal — that this conduct falls “within the rules” — is another major insult. There was a time when claiming back the cost of a duck-moat was well within the rules for an MP. Sir Fred Goodwin acted within the rules of the financial sector when he crashed the UK economy from the comfort of his personal scallop kitchen at RBS headquarters in 2008. Indeed, one of the most infuriating aspects of the past 14 years of Tory government has been that almost every moral and ethical crime collectively committed — whether dishing out billions to their pals in contracts, crashing the economy with tax cuts, or immiserating tens of thousands of sick, vulnerable and disabled people through callous welfare reforms — fell well within the rules.
Most politicians don’t just wake up one day and decide to use public office to enrich themselves; entitlement develops incrementally and begins with the seductive idea that you’re a little bit special. One day it’s Taylor Swift concert tickets, the next you’re telling porkies to the Queen. Accepting gifts is not immoral in and of itself, but this is how the culture of corruption (which Sir Keir Starmer claims he sought power to rip out of public life) slowly seduces those of low character. The issue for most people is not whether the behaviour of politicians falls within the rules but that the political class is governed by one set of rules while everyone else is governed by another.
Funnily enough, most other public servants are forbidden from accepting gifts or donations because it is well understood that doing so leaves the system open to abuse. Yet somehow, politicians are ostensibly free to party like it’s 2099 provided they fill out a little form declaring what infuriating hypocrites they are.
Furthermore, government ministers are already some of the highest paid and most powerful people in the country. They already get their food, travel, heating, housing, petrol, pens and paperclips paid for or heavily subsidised. The argument that complimentary hospitality and freebies are a genuine necessity that allow them to do their jobs better is yet more evidence of how endemic corporate influence in politics has become and how adjusted to it politicians in the UK are. The great irony of this scandal is that Starmer’s Cabinet has shown more collective enthusiasm, conviction and clarity of purpose trying to justify their brazen sense of entitlement to corporate welfare than they have on any other issue. Perhaps instead of smugly laughing off legitimate anger at their behaviour, they might better use their energy confronting the moral dissonance which now characterises their young political project.
This dissonance has characterised every one of Starmer’s first 100 days in office. On the Middle East, he seemed more sincere mocking the delegate who spoke up for Palestinian children during his conference speech than he did when calling for an immediate ceasefire. On the riots, he rightly condemned far-Right thuggery and racism before flying out to Italy to copy the immigration homework of Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni. And given the sheer level of corporate welfare the Labour Cabinet have been helping themselves to, Starmer’s renewed commitment to tackling benefits fraudsters takes on new Iannuccian proportions. It all further demonstrates the ideological contradictions at the core of his “remade” Labour Party. These contradictions are perhaps best typified by his seeming ability to leverage his political privilege for personal gain, while looking the country in the eye and pontificating about the merits of public service.
As centrist dads the country over cling to the delusion that beneath Sir Keir’s floundering political appearance, there lurks a high-minded, icy tactician, the shambles tell a more damning truth about his skills. Evidently, there are some things money can’t buy.
Disclaimer
Some of the posts we share are controversial and we do not necessarily agree with them in the whole extend. Sometimes we agree with the content or part of it but we do not agree with the narration or language. Nevertheless we find them somehow interesting, valuable and/or informative or we share them, because we strongly believe in freedom of speech, free press and journalism. We strongly encourage you to have a critical approach to all the content, do your own research and analysis to build your own opinion.
We would be glad to have your feedback.
Source: UnHerd Read the original article here: https://unherd.com/