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Shortly after their calamitous 1997 election defeat, I asked a Conservative MP who he was backing as the next leader. His choice was a notably insipid figure, thoughtful but understated. “He’s the ‘unBlair’,” the MP declared. This was a bold call given the success of the original. The unBlair’s candidacy duly sank under the weight of his diffidence.
The incident came to mind this week as Keir Starmer reopened the political season with a denunciation of the “politics of performance” at a carefully choreographed press conference in the Downing Street garden.
The purpose of his non-performative performance was to drive home the message of the inherited Tory mess and prepare the ground for the “hard choices” of a tax-raising Budget. All of Labour’s performances since its victory have been designed to embed this narrative in the minds of both voters and Labour supporters, along with the idea that it will take years to effect change.
Many of Starmer’s arguments on the state of the country and public services hold water. It is clearly absurd that the criminal justice system must think twice about jailing rioters because the previous government had failed to ensure there were enough prison places.
But there was another underlying aspect to his message that should concern his party. For Starmer has a touch of the unBlair himself, though he is more forceful than that dry Tory. His assault on the politics of performance is not only an argument for substance over flash but also a show in itself, designed to make a virtue of his own limitations.
There is an argument for this, though Blair, of course, had both substance and flair. Government does need to find a way past shallow soundbites and the tyranny of media management. Too much time is consumed with performative politics, from the “grid” of daily policy announcements to the endless reannouncement of empty initiatives whose sole purpose is to secure a good headline. This all displaces the harder work of structural reform.
Starmer is not wrong to lament these illusions and distractions of political performance. A leader’s job is to set strategic direction and oversee implementation. Even so, while the ability to inspire with rhetoric is no alternative to real substance, it is a mistake to think it does not matter.
Those who dream of technocrats and managers and decry charisma miss the essentials of politics. It is a debate over ideas and priorities and you have to be able to make your case. The ability to rouse, to give direction, to make the weather is essential ordnance in a leader’s armoury. Starmer’s performances are solid but it is hard to think of a memorable speech or phrase, one that shows he can capture a wind and harness it to his cause.
For leaders have to be able to carry the country and — no less importantly — their parties to accept those hard choices. At other times, as with the recent riots, they need to crystallise and mobilise public opinion. Above all, political leaders need to be a coach or a teacher, coaxing voters down a particular path.
It remains far from clear Starmer can be that man. His press conference after the riots lacked force and visible sincerity, mainly because he read from a printed text, regularly looking down for the next sentence. The words were fine — as was his policy response — but the impact was deadened.
This matters more for Starmer than for many of his predecessors for three clear reasons. First, the constant and consuming nature of the media, both social and traditional, now demands leaders with an instinctive ability to shape the agenda. If you cannot command attention, someone else will. Just look at the negative summer stories over Labour’s decision to settle pay disputes with the unions or the row over recent appointments to see the dangers of failing to set your own narrative.
The second reason is that the UK, as Starmer acknowledges, faces a long period of hardship. Until he can deliver, he needs to inspire. They must see the pay-off for the sacrifices demanded of them. Telling people they must be patient is not sustainable for long. Voters do not want to hear how tough things are. They want evidence that you are fixing them. A non-performative performance will not suffice.
Most important, Starmer starts with a shallower reservoir of goodwill than any modern predecessor. For all the undeniable efficiency of his campaign his loveless landslide was built with the lowest number of votes — just 9.7mn — of any first-time prime minister since the war. Labour’s vote share was only 33.7 per cent of the second-lowest election turnout in more than a century, against a government voters were desperate to remove.
Starmer is determined and strategic. But he needs to be able to persuade the country and his own MPs to keep faith with his message of higher taxes and slow progress. The lack of a world-class communicator poses real risks for Labour. Quiet competence is attractive but it increases the pressure to show early evidence of success.
While he will never be a natural orator, prime ministers do grow into the role, although it is rare to acquire skills that have eluded you into your sixties. If the going is as tough as Starmer argues, both party and country will require inspiration to stay the course. At that point, the politics of performance might suddenly seem important.
robert.shrimsley@ft.com
