Once upon a time, it was possible to be all things to all people. Back in 1993, when Sir Tony Blair was invited to contribute his favourite recipe to the Islington Cookbook, he selected fettuccine with olive oil, sun-dried tomatoes and capers. By the time he entered Downing Street, his favourite meal had morphed into the Mondeo Man of dishes, fish and chips (with or without guacamole).
Yet even Sir Tony couldn’t ignore Labour’s great political weakness, the fear among the public — one that the Conservatives were only too happy to exploit — that its fiscal incontinence would lead it to spend money the country didn’t have. Memories of the winter of 1978-9 were still fresh to many.
Through a modern lens, the striking thing about Labour’s 1997 pledge card is how unambitious it was. Cut class sizes, but only to under 30 and even then just for five, six and seven-year-olds. Release a measly £100 million for the NHS by cutting red tape. A commitment not to raise income tax (but ominously, nothing on national insurance). Sir Tony wasn’t exactly promising the Great Society.
Still, it was more than enough to secure a landslide majority, reduce the Tories to a parliamentary rump and remain in power for 13 years. Something Sir Keir Starmer is understandably keen on replicating.
To that end, the Labour leader has finally bitten the bullet and ditched his hitherto flagship green investment pledge. Like a desperate striker trying to gain the referee’s attention, the U-turn went down in instalments. Cut from £28 billion to £20 billion, going into effect only from the middle of the parliament, subject to the party’s fiscal rules. Now it is an ex-policy.
It would be easy to characterise the back-and-forth as a classic party splits story. Sir Keir says one thing, his shadow chancellor Rachel Reeves another. Look at the Opposition, hopelessly divided! Would that it were so simple. While the Tories face a genuine ideological battle between a One Nation caucus and the growing (or growing louder) bloc of economically libertarian, socially conservative MPs, the £28 billion fight is about something else.
The central charge against the Labour leader is that he is of no fixed address. He changes his mind when it suits him
The central charge against the Labour leader is that he is of no fixed address. He said one thing to get elected leader and then changes his mind when it suits him. The reason this attack line sticks is that it is fundamentally true. Starmer in Jeremy Corbyn’s shadow cabinet and campaigned to make the man prime minister, before banishing him from the party.
He wanted to bring rail, mail, energy and water into “common ownership” before changing his mind. He supported a second EU referendum, now he’s against the free movement of people and single market membership.
And so Sir Keir faced a choice. Give further fuel to the proposition that he is a flip-flopper, or risk his party’s hard-earned but still fragile fiscal credibility. Recall that it is only four years since then-shadow chancellor John McDonnell announced Labour would fund a £58 billion uncosted compensation package for “Waspi women” (who campaign against gender-based inequality in pension payments) part way through the 2019 election campaign.
That is the context which partly explains why, after months of dithering, Sir Keir has opted for fiscal credibility. It won’t be pain-free. He must now fight not only accusations that he is a flip-flopper, but also the contradiction that he thinks both that the country has gone to the dogs but doesn’t intend to do much about it.
Yet the alternative was to place his entire electoral strategy — security, fiscal responsibility, change without risk — in jeopardy. Voters already think he changes his mind at will, what’s one more U-turn?
Sir Keir’s joint opinion piece with Reeves in the Guardian, which suggests that Labour’s green ambitions remain undimmed, isn’t quite a “nothing has changed” moment. It didn’t need to be. The reality is that, as Rishi Sunak and the Conservatives have shifted further away from net zero, it has left Sir Keir and Labour as the clear green choice, even if they have had to drop a somewhat meaningless number from their press briefings.
That it has taken Sir Keir so long to come down on one side should concern his inner circle. The policy was allowed to drift for so long and the number 28 repeated with such regularity that it began to lose all meaning. Better late than never, the Labour leader has only done what Sir Tony or Tory strategist Lynton Crosby would advise him to do — get the barnacles off the boat. Anything less would be a recipe for disaster.
