In politics, very often a speech about one topic is actually designed to deliver a very different and far broader message. This was certainly the case with Keir Starmer’s statement on banning social media for under-16s.
This was not just an announcement about the government’s proposals. It was an announcement of Starmer’s intention to fight for his position. And it was an attempt to set the agenda at the beginning of a week in which the good folk of Makerfield may well send the King of the North, Andy Burnham, back to Westminster.
Out with the “Old Keir” – the non-ideological technocratic neo-statism combined with a rather wooden and hesitant political style – and in with the new – far more relaxed, engaging and, quite simply, more human.
There was a subtlety about his speech that suggested a man who is fully aware of the challenges (and challengers) that lie ahead.
It appears he has at last decided to jettison the “Ming vase strategy” of leading through extreme caution that carried him into power. This, arguably, should have been done away with long ago.
It delivered what can only be seen as a very shallow landslide (a high number of seats despite a low vote share), based more on frustration and anger towards the previous government that on public commitment and belief in a fresh new political project. The threadbare nature of Starmerism quickly became apparent. Policies were launched without any clear unifying thread and quickly became what critics called “the politics of nothing”: plenty of activity, but no discernible action.
This was a particular problem on the doorstep, where the prime minister’s inability to project conviction in public left voters unsure where the government was going or why. Added to this were Starmer’s repeated assertions that he was “a toolmaker’s son”, which too often smacked of faux authenticy.
“New Keir” was suddenly more emotional and relatable, repeatedly emphasising his role as a parent: “All I have ever wanted for my own children, hand on heart, is for them to be happy and for them to be safe. And I think that’s what any parent wants.”
The surprise on his face was palpable when the end of his speech was met with whoops and cheers of joy from the audience. For a moment, it really did look like he was going to turn around to see if the source of joy was behind him (has Harry Styles walked in?), before the realisation dawned that he had, at last, connected with a substantial chunk of the British public.
What to make of ‘New Keir’
Despite the attempted rebrand, the prime minister quickly sought to deflate public expectations. This was going to be “hard to legislate for, hard to regulate, hard to enforce”. This is why the government had been having lots of “conversations”, had done lots of “listening” and definitely believed in “partnerships”.
At times it appeared like the old, careful Keir was struggling to get out of this new – and dare I say, Burnham-esque – imposture.
Burnham-esque? So soon? Yes, both presentationally and politically.
In a Facebook video to tout the announcement, the prime minister appears almost more Burnham-esque than Burnham. Shorn of suit and tie, in casual clothes and with a hint of a tan, Starmer speaks to the camera as if he’s just checking in on his way to a northern soul disco night.
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“New Keir” might be cooler than “Old Keir”, but this is not the only shift.
There’s also a clear attempt to move the debate away from specific policy questions and challenges and towards Burnham’s focus on more fundamental questions about how we “do” politics in the UK. For “New Keir”, banning social media for children was not an isolated decision but an element of the wider “building blocks of a different Britain altogether”.
The basic problem for Starmer is that, after two years in government, none of those building blocks were already in place, or really identifiable. What did exist was a series of self-inflicted injuries and policy U-turns. These not only undermined the perceived competence of the government, but also played into populist arguments about the existence of a disconnected and shambolic political elite.
From this perspective, the prime minster’s announcement of a social media ban could well be seen as a late attempt to fill the void created by “the politics of nothing” with “the politics of (at least) something”. A more cynical interpretation might view it as rushing out a policy that has implications for children’s wellbeing as part of a desperate political rescue mission. A more positive and realistic interpretation might view is as Starmer simply seeking to ensure at least some kind of legacy.
The irony is that if “Old Keir” had been a little bit more like “New Keir” from the start – braver in policy terms and more openly engaging in presentational terms – his premiership may well have been in a very different and more positive position.
