THE jury currently appears to be out on just who Sir Keir Starmer really is. While increasing numbers see him as a centrist now rapidly drifting to the right in an attempt to head off Reform (hence his “island of strangers” speech), others believe Starmer is a canny strategist intent on playing a longer political game, where eventually concrete results will win back support. 

I guess following newly announced trade deals with the EU, India and the US, Sir Keir is proving more capable than his Tory predecessors, at least in that respect. Something of a low bar, it must be said. And the revision of Starmer’s hugely unpopular winter fuel allowance cuts policy means that, unlike the Conservatives, he’s able to U-turn without the histrionics of former occupants of Number 10.

All this being said, there is still significant concern that the PM is tacking way too rightwards, not only domestically, but in his public servility to Donald Trump and support of Israel — the latter only weakening over recent days, as events in Gaza have become far too horrific to ignore.

The Prime Minister’s evident enjoyment of some of the perks of office and acceptance of free clothing and tickets to expensive events have also rankled some of the “traditional left,” as well as Tories eager to accuse Sir Keir of hypocrisy. A lack of awareness of the obvious optics, perhaps, or maybe the PM simply feels that these are the rewards the position entitles him to, which will swiftly be forgotten when his policies bear fruit.

Unlike Tony Blair’s, Starmer’s background is consistently left-leaning, which may signal an ability to be politically expedient when he regards it as necessary, but to basically hew to a (vaguely) socialist strategy over the next few years, which could pay off electorally, when any benefits become apparent. That’s one theory, anyway.

The other is that Sir Keir is a throwback to the very first Labour Prime Minister, Ramsay MacDonald (1866-1937), architect of 1931’s Great Betrayal.

Like Starmer, MacDonald adopted socialism when young, although his background was considerably more hardscrabble than Sir Keir’s, despite Starmer’s oft-repeated reference, “My dad was a toolmaker.”
 
At first, MacDonald was a principled man, with a good deal of political wisdom (he said at the time that the Treaty of Versailles was, “an act of madness unparalleled in history”) and some nous, although he later became known for his “woolly” waffling and platitudes. His short time as the first-ever Labour PM (January-October 1924) appears to be when the rot set in, as his minority government sought to rule “sensibly” despite the near-constant vilification of the press.

A few things were accomplished (reforms in education, taxation, social security, and agriculture), but due to concocted press stories of the government’s supposed communist sympathies, the administration fell after a vote of no confidence.

MacDonald held on as Labour leader and returned as PM in the second MacDonald ministry of 1929-35, when his standing in the Labour Party became irretrievably damaged. At the May 1929 election, Labour won 288 seats to the Conservatives’ 260, with 59 Liberals under Lloyd George, who held the balance of power — perhaps a foreshadowing of 2029?

MacDonald, with the intermittent support of the Liberals, introduced some progressive policies, but his government lacked the intellectual imagination and daring to tackle the Great Depression when it hit six months after he took office.

As unemployment ballooned, MacDonald’s economically rigid chancellor, Philip Snowden, urged a combination of hefty public-sector wage cuts and slashing public spending (especially unemployment benefits), in the hope of avoiding the “disaster” of a budget deficit. This understandably split the Labour Party, with the majority leaving King George V’s endorsed National Government under MacDonald, who was expelled from the movement along with Snowden and Secretary of State for the Dominions James Henry Thomas.

MacDonald, as PM of the National Government, was in effect merely a figurehead, leading a rump of just 13 “National Labour” MPs, compared to 473 Conservatives, 68 Liberals and 52 Labour members. MacDonald was a useful fig leaf for harsher Tory policies, much like the foolish Nick Clegg in his ill-fated coalition with David Cameron.

By the end of his premiership, MacDonald (nicknamed “Ramshackle Mac”) was a sad shadow of his former self, his mental and physical health in noticeable decline; after resigning the premiership, he died two years later at the age of 71.

He remains a reviled figure in the Labour Party, one who held much promise but was essentially too weak-willed not to be beguiled by the privileges and prestige of high office. MacDonald was the model for fictional Labour activist Hamer Shawcross in Howard Spring’s 1940 novel Fame is the Spur, a socialist idealist who gradually morphs into a careerist establishment politician.

A warning from history perhaps for Sir Keir, if he succumbs to the desire to stitch up a coalition with disaffected Tories and Lib Dems, in an attempt to both stymie Reform and marginalise the left.