For the first time in 15 years, Labour will spend Christmas in government. There is contentment inside the party at this long-awaited prize, but deep unease too. Why?
Start with the nature of Labour’s victory. Though it won 411 MPs, it did so with just 33.7 per cent of the vote – the lowest winning share of any party since 1832. This seat-slide confirmed what had long been clear: the country was more enervated by Conservative rule than it was enamoured of Labour. But the party’s victory remained a triumph of electoral efficiency – the inverse of Jeremy Corbyn’s 2017 performance, in which 40 per cent of the vote produced just 262 seats.
Yet while Labour had a plan to win – one meticulously devised by Morgan McSweeney and Pat McFadden – it lacked a plan to govern. Insiders now speak in tragicomic terms of the unlikely triumvirate of Sue Gray, the party donor Waheed Alli and the former Conservative minister Nick Boles making 11th-hour preparations.
The absence of detailed work gave Labour’s first 100 days in office a shapeless quality. A stream of unconnected policy announcements resembled a pudding without a theme. It was as if Labour had been taken by surprise by its own victory.
Much effort was invested in seeking to further toxify the Tories’ reputation. The mantra of a “£22bn black hole” was designed to emulate the strategy deployed by the Conservatives against Labour in the aftermath of the 2008 financial crisis. But in a country weary of austerity, the charge failed to resonate. As one cabinet minister observes, “Voters have a different emotional connection to the Tories over money.” They elected Labour in search of hope, not more despair.
The measure adopted by the party to advertise its fiscal discipline – the winter fuel payment cuts – gave the government definition, but for the worse (as several cabinet ministers had warned). “As a standalone cut, it’s almost suicidal,” a usually supportive backbencher told me as the angst on the Labour benches first became clear in August. Juxtaposed with “freebiegate”, the policy allowed the government to be cast as enriching itself while disregarding others. In short, all too much like the administrations that had preceded it. Though the Budget sought to offer a progressive frame – prioritising work over wealth – real damage had already been done.
Labour’s false start eventually forced Keir Starmer to again demonstrate his capacity for ruthlessness. Gray’s removal as chief of staff in early October reflected not only tensions with McSweeney but also far wider internal discontent. Special advisers, aggrieved to be paid less than in opposition, or less than their Tory predecessors, had begun to unionise. Starmer himself ultimately concluded that Gray’s method of trusting Whitehall departments to run themselves was untenable.
The new No 10 – bolstered by the arrival of Blair-era veterans Jonathan Powell and Liz Lloyd – represents a reassertion of the centre. Starmer has adopted New Labour-esque “milestones” by which he – and individual cabinet ministers – will be judged. As a withdrawn salvo against the civil service suggests, there will be no hiding place should failure result.
Confronted by his government’s early woes, the Prime Minister has the consolation of an unassailable Commons majority. But, though hegemonic in parliament, Labour feels vulnerable in the country.
This doesn’t just reflect a government with a net approval rating of -40 presiding over a stagnant, even shrinking, economy. It speaks to a lack of ideological self-confidence. From one perspective, Starmer’s government is quietly radical: reviving public ownership, expanding workers’ rights, deregulating planning laws, embracing European-style tax and spend. But this programme is unaccompanied by a clear articulation of the country Labour wishes to create; of a clear identification of its friends and enemies. As a consequence, the government appears oddly cowed, even apologetic.
It is the right – despite the Conservative Party’s worst ever defeat – that feels insurgent. Little surprise, when Donald Trump will again become president of the world’s superpower in 32 days’ time. Had Kamala Harris won in November, the story of this year would have been one of progressive victory and reactionary defeat. Instead, Trump’s triumph – and Elon Musk’s cosmic ambition – has given the Anglo-American right a fresh infusion of energy. Nigel Farage’s Reform – in second place in 89 Labour seats – haunts the dreams of new MPs.
Labour – always prone to imposter syndrome – risks appearing as if it has merely borrowed power. Starmer’s challenge – and he has defied sceptics before – is to prove that decline is not inevitable.
This piece first appeared in the Morning Call newsletter; receive it every morning by subscribing on Substack here
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