That might work just about well enough when times are good. But when crisis hits, it’s a recipe for disaster. And times certainly aren’t good now.
Britain is navigating a period of profound instability, with wars in Europe and the Middle East, economic uncertainty at home, and mounting strain on public services. Across almost every area – defence, energy, the economy, the NHS – problems are building up, each requiring a decision, leadership, action of some sort.
Starmer entered office presenting himself as a steady hand – a corrective to the “chaos” that came before. There was talk of competence, of restoring trust, of “adults back in the room”. Yet nearly two years on, that promise appears laughable. Instead of stability, there is inconsistency. Instead of clarity, ambiguity. Instead of firm decision-making, a cycle of hesitation and retreat. The accumulation of policy reversals has not just dented credibility; it has defined his premiership. He’s U-turned so much he’s become a human centrifuge.
And the cause of that appears to be not just incompetence and political dysfunction. It seems to be the character of the Prime Minister himself.
Contrary to what Starmer believes, governance is not simply about “following the process” (or allowing a process to take its course without your knowledge). That’s why it was so extraordinary last month when he claimed it was Ed Miliband’s decision whether or not to drill for new oil and gas in the North Sea. “It’s absolutely clear that the quasi-judicial duty of the legislation rests with the Secretary of State,” he said. “But aren’t you, prime minister?” his critics asked quite reasonably.
At its core, governance is about leadership. It is about authority: the ability to take decisions and to own them; to control events rather than be carried along by them.
So the Mandelson episode is not just a scandal. It’s bigger than that. By Starmer’s own effective admission, it has revealed the rot at the heart of his premiership. This may not simply be a story of poor judgment – but of a government in which nobody is truly in charge.
Perhaps Sir Keir will wriggle out of his tight spot by convincing his MPs that he didn’t know Lord Mandelson had failed his security vetting. But by doing so, he will have admitted a potentially far worse offence: he’s not up to the job of being prime minister.
Do you believe him? Sir Keir Starmer’s defence against the claim that he knew Peter Mandelson had failed his security vetting, and had misled Parliament and the public about it, was that he himself was misled by officials. The Prime Minister says it was “unforgivable” that he wasn’t told, and attests to being “absolutely furious”. Olly Robbins has lost his job at the Foreign Office, all to support Sir Keir’s insistence that “it wasn’t me, guv”.
It’s hardly surprising that many think Sir Keir is lying. He’s had to concede before that he knew more about Lord Mandelson’s relationship with Jeffrey Epstein than he had let on. More to the point, how is it credible that we have a prime minister so detached from the business of government, so irrelevant to even its most consequential decisions, that senior officials felt no need to inform him that his personal choice for the most important position in the diplomatic service had failed to pass security vetting?
Do you believe him? Sir Keir Starmer’s defence against the claim that he knew Peter Mandelson had failed his security vetting, and had misled Parliament and the public about it, was that he himself was misled by officials. The Prime Minister says it was “unforgivable” that he wasn’t told, and attests to being “absolutely furious”. Olly Robbins has lost his job at the Foreign Office, all to support Sir Keir’s insistence that “it wasn’t me, guv”.
It’s hardly surprising that many think Sir Keir is lying. He’s had to concede before that he knew more about Lord Mandelson’s relationship with Jeffrey Epstein than he had let on. More to the point, how is it credible that we have a prime minister so detached from the business of government, so irrelevant to even its most consequential decisions, that senior officials felt no need to inform him that his personal choice for the most important position in the diplomatic service had failed to pass security vetting?
But let’s consider for the moment that the Prime Minister is telling the truth, that he isn’t a knave but a fool. Wouldn’t that be worse? It would mean that he is a leader so immaterial, so incompetent, so incurious as to what is being done in his name that officials believed it was appropriate not only to override the decision of UK Security Vetting, which scrutinises potential civil servants, but not even to tell No 10 that it had done so.
And then, when the Mandelson scandal broke, again nobody thought to mention it to the PM. Unfortunately for Sir Keir’s hopes of remaining in power, that picture of events has a strong ring of truth to it.
Even before the Lord Mandelson scandal erupted, destroying the Prime Minister’s authority within his party, Britain was enduring a painful period of drift, dither and delay. The toolmaker’s son had proved himself incapable of finishing any job, on time or within budget. In most cases, he didn’t even bother to start, preferring consultations, meetings and committees. It was prevarication designed to maintain the illusion that we had a functioning government.
Do you believe him? Sir Keir Starmer’s defence against the claim that he knew Peter Mandelson had failed his security vetting, and had misled Parliament and the public about it, was that he himself was misled by officials. The Prime Minister says it was “unforgivable” that he wasn’t told, and attests to being “absolutely furious”. Olly Robbins has lost his job at the Foreign Office, all to support Sir Keir’s insistence that “it wasn’t me, guv”.
It’s hardly surprising that many think Sir Keir is lying. He’s had to concede before that he knew more about Lord Mandelson’s relationship with Jeffrey Epstein than he had let on. More to the point, how is it credible that we have a prime minister so detached from the business of government, so irrelevant to even its most consequential decisions, that senior officials felt no need to inform him that his personal choice for the most important position in the diplomatic service had failed to pass security vetting?
But let’s consider for the moment that the Prime Minister is telling the truth, that he isn’t a knave but a fool. Wouldn’t that be worse? It would mean that he is a leader so immaterial, so incompetent, so incurious as to what is being done in his name that officials believed it was appropriate not only to override the decision of UK Security Vetting, which scrutinises potential civil servants, but not even to tell No 10 that it had done so.
And then, when the Mandelson scandal broke, again nobody thought to mention it to the PM. Unfortunately for Sir Keir’s hopes of remaining in power, that picture of events has a strong ring of truth to it.
Even before the Lord Mandelson scandal erupted, destroying the Prime Minister’s authority within his party, Britain was enduring a painful period of drift, dither and delay. The toolmaker’s son had proved himself incapable of finishing any job, on time or within budget. In most cases, he didn’t even bother to start, preferring consultations, meetings and committees. It was prevarication designed to maintain the illusion that we had a functioning government.
Sir Keir’s ministers are bad enough at making decisions themselves – witness Bridget Philipson’s failure to issue transgender guidance a year after the Supreme Court’s ruling on the definition of a woman. But when there is a vacuum at the top, and a hollow husk of a prime minister only nominally at the helm, it becomes even easier for them to put things off, especially when a decision involves a hard choice that would upset one side of the Labour coalition or another.
We saw a glimpse of it this week, when the Prime Minister was asked his view on the crucial dilemma of whether to prioritise defence or welfare. “It’s not a zero-sum game when it comes to defence and welfare and you have his words on that,” said his spokesman. Really? When the bond markets are ready to pounce on any government that pretends it can have its cake and eat it? On perhaps the biggest issue to confront the country in decades, the Prime Minister is effectively giving us his word that he has no opinion at all.
Many of us have had bosses like Starmer. They hold endless meetings, consult widely, yet when push comes to shove they are unwilling or incapable of making a choice. But organisations still need to function. Decisions still need to be made. So their underlings do their best to keep the show on the road. After a while, they may even stop telling their superior what they are doing. Is that what happened at the Foreign Office?
That might work just about well enough when times are good. But when crisis hits, it’s a recipe for disaster. And times certainly aren’t good now.
Britain is navigating a period of profound instability, with wars in Europe and the Middle East, economic uncertainty at home, and mounting strain on public services. Across almost every area – defence, energy, the economy, the NHS – problems are building up, each requiring a decision, leadership, action of some sort.
Starmer entered office presenting himself as a steady hand – a corrective to the “chaos” that came before. There was talk of competence, of restoring trust, of “adults back in the room”. Yet nearly two years on, that promise appears laughable. Instead of stability, there is inconsistency. Instead of clarity, ambiguity. Instead of firm decision-making, a cycle of hesitation and retreat. The accumulation of policy reversals has not just dented credibility; it has defined his premiership. He’s U-turned so much he’s become a human centrifuge.
And the cause of that appears to be not just incompetence and political dysfunction. It seems to be the character of the Prime Minister himself.
Contrary to what Starmer believes, governance is not simply about “following the process” (or allowing a process to take its course without your knowledge). That’s why it was so extraordinary last month when he claimed it was Ed Miliband’s decision whether or not to drill for new oil and gas in the North Sea. “It’s absolutely clear that the quasi-judicial duty of the legislation rests with the Secretary of State,” he said. “But aren’t you, prime minister?” his critics asked quite reasonably.
At its core, governance is about leadership. It is about authority: the ability to take decisions and to own them; to control events rather than be carried along by them.
So the Mandelson episode is not just a scandal. It’s bigger than that. By Starmer’s own effective admission, it has revealed the rot at the heart of his premiership. This may not simply be a story of poor judgment – but of a government in which nobody is truly in charge.
Perhaps Sir Keir will wriggle out of his tight spot by convincing his MPs that he didn’t know Lord Mandelson had failed his security vetting. But by doing so, he will have admitted a potentially far worse offence: he’s not up to the job of being prime minister.