Keir Starmer’s Labour conference speech in Brighton today—his first to a live, in-person party—was given some hefty billing. It was variously briefed as make-or-break, his chance to “stand before the nation and declare who he is” and a “big moment for Britain.”
You have to wonder about the wisdom of raising the bar to this degree, more like fighting-talk from a sportsperson ahead of a game than a political leader facing an annual party conference. But then, you have to wonder about the wisdom of much of the manoeuvring during this year’s conference, not least the Labour leader walking away from the key pledges on which he was elected and forcing through divisive, anti-democratic changes to the party rules.
Much like conference itself, the speech was intended to show the extent to which Starmer is not Corbyn, that the self-styled grownups and so-called moderates are back in charge and that the left has been marginalised. So now that the moderates have their party back, what do they intend to do with it? That’s where it gets vague—and Starmer’s speech showed it.
The Labour leader leaned on personal narratives—his mother’s service as a nurse and her death while cared for by devoted NHS staff, his father’s life as a factory-floor toolmaker—to indicate his political grounding. Those moments were powerful, poignant and authentic—you’d need a heart of stone not to be moved by such accounts. But the trouble is that such stories were then deployed to outline the most generic values: work has meaning, the NHS deserves our approval. These things are so self-evident as to sound like Hallmark card sentimentalism—unless specifically attached to a plan, a policy or statement of direction. What does it mean to approve of health workers, if nurses are paid so little as to be using foodbanks? Where is the dignity of work if employment is no guarantee of a liveable wage, job security or the means to provide for family? He did mention the falling wages of the Tory era and the need for a strong economy, but not much beyond that.
While the pandemic has exposed horrifying social inequalities and a public appetite for bold change, Starmer’s speech squandered the opportunity to speak to the current national mood. At times it felt like a series of relentlessly focus-grouped buzzwords: “work,” “security,” “care.” Other segments showed what former shadow chancellor John McDonnell meant when he lamented “the performance of a Blairite tribute band”—the hat-tip to Blair in Starmer’s “education is so important I’m tempted to say it three times”; his emphasis on defence and the general tough-on-crime vibe.
Much of this seemed designed to show an imagined Labour heartlands voter that the party was now about British flags, support for the army and law and order again, seeking to showcase all the ways in which this current leader is not Corbyn. But Starmer’s comments on crime, linking safety on the streets to the need to increase police numbers, were a particularly grim moment—coming just as the court hearing into Sarah Everard’s death revealed how much her murderer relied on and abused his position as police officer to attack her.
And there’s a deeper problem with taking the party back to Blairism, which is that we are in the year 2021, just emerging from a pandemic following decades in which neoliberalism exacerbated poverty, hardships and wealth inequalities. Market-led neoliberalism wasn’t even fit for the Blair era (this former Labour prime minister didn’t get dubbed the “king of income inequality” for nothing). The idea that this reheated approach can begin to tackle the climate emergency, spiralling poverty, a housing crisis and a pandemic-battered workforce is bordering on delusional.
In his delivery, Starmer came across much better than he has during media interviews in recent months. However, there is no getting away from the policy and substance vacuum at the heart of his political project—something this conference speech only served to confirm.
