I had the privilege of attending Keir Starmer’s final Prime Minister’s Questions in the press lobby before his resignation. What transgressed was a heartfelt spectacle, yet maintained the chicanery typical of PMQs.
The session saw tributes to the late Anne Widdecombe from all across the political aisle, a touching farewell between Starmer and Badenoch, before the final tearful question from Labour MP and Starmer’s close friend Carolyne Harris, teeing up Starmer’s final speech, where he announced this to be the “end of the political journey”. On my left, I glanced several Starmer aides wiping away tears as he made his final Parliamentary statement.
Present also were antics we’ve come to expect from British Parliament. Allusions, references, and jokes regarding England’s then-upcoming World Cup semi-final against Argentina were countless; there was widespread derision aimed toward the reduced number of Reform MPs on the backbenches after their leader’s somewhat ignominious – albeit temporary – departure from Parliament; and Ed Davey and Sir Keir laughingly agreed upon a date and time to visit Chessington World Adventures theme park.
Overall, the afternoon’s affair can be read as a microcosm of British politics. Starmer’s final outing was filled with genuine sentiment and goodwill. After his final words, he was greeted with rapturous applause from the whole house, and he even seemed in brighter spirits freed from the confines of high office. Simultaneously, the rowdiness, wit, and polite custom of British Parliamentarianism remained throughout, even into the press room where Starmer’s aides wryly revealed the parting gifts the cabinet bestowed on the PM: a carriage clock and a few bottles of vino.
Yet, aside from the display and ceremony, there were some serious political questions and discussions raised as Starmer sought to cement his legacy as a British Prime Minister – the achievements he was most proud of and what he hopes to be remembered for, aside from the unfortunate impotence of his directionless government.
Starmer believes that, ultimately, he has left the country in a better place than when he first came to power. He listed his top achievements as Britain topping the G7 for economic growth, the efforts the government made to combatting child poverty, and improving the UK’s international and continental standing with EU agreements and continued support for Ukraine.
However, what seemed to be Starmer’s main talking point was his ‘transformation’ of the Labour Party. He emphasised how he took them from electoral oblivion after their 2019 defeat, to achieving one of the largest parliamentary majorities in history in 2024. He also commented on how he “ripped antisemitism out” of a party that he claims was found to be “institutionally antisemitic” under Corbyn’s leadership.
This statement has seen significant backlash, including from Corbyn himself. The EHRC’s 2020 report into antisemitism in the Labour Party, while acknowledging a potential failure from the Labour Party leadership in addressing specific antisemitic instances more effectively, never once used the phrase “institutionally antisemitic”.
Starmer himself said in 2020 that Labour was NOT not “institutionally antisemitic”, yet in 2026 he concludes that they were. His ambivalent relationship with his predecessor’s party has been evident throughout Starmer’s tenure. Starmer was part of Corbyn’s shadow cabinet, Corbyn was in fact a “friend”, yet once Starmer came to leadership, his predecessor was kicked from the party, with Starmer going to lengths to characterise himself as the saviour of the party, returning it to public respectability.
No doubt, Starmer’s portrayal of events is justifiable – he did, after all, deliver Labour to government with a sweeping parliamentary majority – and it was not Starmer’s spat with Corbyn that has seen him ousted from office. However, beyond the surface, this dynamic does reveal much about why the Starmer government failed, and what his legacy will ultimately become.
Firstly, Starmer’s assertion of himself as the saviour of Labour in 2024, in reality, are not especially true. Labour’s majority had little to do with his ‘vision’ (if you could call it that) for the country, or the internal changes he made to the party, but of a final public outcry for change after fourteen years of Tory government, which saw five Prime Ministers and severe political and economic mismanagement.
This was reflected in the popular vote statistics in 2024. Despite Labour achieving an 172-seat majority, this was done with only 33.7% of the popular vote, which is the lowest popular vote share of any governing party on record, and significantly less even than Labour’s 40% vote share in 2017 under Corbyn. Labour’s political sweep was not so much down to Starmer’s political operation, but due to the unrepresentative nature of the British electoral system.
So, while Starmer seeks to enshrine his legacy as a saviour of Labour’s respectability and the vanquisher of Labour’s unelectable left, he never really had popular excitement for his political movement, if he ever had one.
This visionless and unconvincing nature continued into government, as Labour failed to communicate their political vision or even a coherent programme. Their timid manifesto pledges regarding tax and immovable fiscal rules led to economic inertia, and it seemed Labour stolidly refused to do anything to combat the woes of the country they had strenuously pointed out in their election campaign.
Starmer’s government was confused and cautious, constantly U-turning and pivoting on proposed policies, such as the winter fuel debacle and the two-child benefit cap. Nobody knew what the Starmer government was for, what it wanted to do, and what it was doing, at a time of political and economic turmoil, and an insurgent hard-right Reform UK.
This, coupled with a belligerently lukewarm response to the continued tragedies in Gaza, and the public decided that enough was enough with this meandering and contradictory government. Reform UK dominated the polls, Starmer was the most unpopular PM by polling since records began, and Labour MPs decided to finally act and oust Starmer from office.
Despite his best efforts, Starmer will be remembered as a timid failure, at a pivotal moment in global politics. Ironically, it is his insistence on remembering his leadership as one which turned around Labour’s electoral fortunes that is the most damning on his record. To go from winning a party’s third largest parliamentary majority to resigning flaccidly within two years of this achievement is the greatest damnation on his political record.
Much of the discourse around Starmer’s resignation and his standing is that he was ultimately a poor Prime Minister, but a decent man. That seemed to be the sentiment during the emotional spectacle of his last PMQs from MPs, aides, and journalists alike. Sir Keir has undeniably had a successful and dignified career in public service, as both a lawyer and a politician, and committed himself tirelessly to causes to improve the lives of others.
Yet, I feel this narrative ignores the glaring failures of the Starmer political operation, and overlooks choices that doomed him to public disdain. His authoritarian purging of the Labour left, his contradictory passivity over Gaza – a key issue in public consciousness and one of the gravest crimes in contemporary history –, and his government’s approach to fixing the country’s economic woes through hardening conditions for pensioners and the disabled paint a different portrait.
I do not know Starmer personally, and the relationship between a politician’s public actions and personal feelings has been and will continue to be appraised by analysts, commentators, theorists, and historians for as long as politics as we know it persists. As the dust settles on the Starmer premiership, however, it is my belief that we should be more nuanced in our discussions of his government, rather than dismissing his tenure as one of a decent man but unskilled politician, or similarly as one of an opportunistic, Machiavellian liar who betrayed his principles for power. As with most things, the answer probably lies somewhere between these two extremes, and reflection on its location can reveal to us much about the challenges of public life and what our politicians should be striving to achieve.
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