It’s a small thing and I don’t want to sound churlish. But there just weren’t enough flags. Sure, there were union jacks on the banners around the conference stage. Sure, there were ushers handing out union Jacks – along with saltires and red dragons for the Scots and the Welsh in the room. Just don’t look too closely where those flags were made. It might well have been a Chinese sweat shop.
Sure, members of the cabinet were up and down like yo-yos with their union jacks. But where were the red, white and blue suits? Why wasn’t Rachel Reeves channelling Geri Halliwell at the 1997 Brit awards? What’s wrong with these people? Don’t they love their country?
This speech had come billed as make or break for Keir Starmer. There again, everything is billed as make or break for Keir these days. There’s a feeding frenzy over his poll ratings. The worst for a prime minister in living memory.
So every day is crisis day. And the reality is that his leader’s speech at this year’s Labour conference probably won’t shift the dial that much. May soon be forgotten. Bigger battles lie ahead. The November budget. May’s local elections. And who knows what other crises along the way. But a win is a win. And Keir will bank this. He lives to fight another day.
First the good news. This was one of Keir’s better speeches. He no longer seemed to be fighting against the autocue. The bad news? It was still a Keir Starmer speech. He’s never going to turn himself into a natural communicator. He struggles to hold an audience. And for the first 20 minutes or so, it looked as if he might die on his feet. Even armed with flags, the delegates in the hall seemed somewhat disengaged. A feeling that they were there more out of curiosity than conviction.
Then it was as though a switch had been flicked. Keir found his voice. Gave people a reason to believe. Maybe it was just that the speech had been written by committee and the first half had been left to someone on work experience. Starmer was all for fewer people going to university and doing gold star apprenticeships instead. So he could have just been living his values.
Either way, things picked up for the last half hour. A nuanced argument against the populist right. A statement of patriotism. Above all, it sounded as if it came from the heart. The work of a thoroughly decent man making the case for decency. It’s just not entirely clear if decency is what the British public demands of its politicians these days. We may already have time-slipped into the post-truth, post-decency era. Keir would talk of people dropping in to make sure their neighbours were OK. Reform would be dropping by to see if they had indefinite leave to remain. In which case they could get out.
Keir started as if he was doing a fireside chat. Leaning on the lectern. “Our flags fly proudly,” he said. And, as if on cue, half the audience duly stood up and waved their flags. You can’t say that the conference wasn’t trying to meet the prime minister halfway. There were no Andy Burnham fans, willing him to fail. The whole hall was on his side. It hasn’t always been this way at Labour conferences. The left is renowned for preferring to pick a fight with itself rather than the right.
Decline, ruin and chaos. They were the tempting path of grievance. One that required no one to do anything except just hate. The quick fix of unfunded tax cuts, Brexit lies and snake oil politicians of left and right. Take that Nigel Farage and Andy B. Keir wanted us to believe we were at a a fork in the road. And he wanted us to take the road less travelled. The road of renewal. A Britain that worked for everyone.
There was, of course, the obligatory mention of his father. Had he ever mentioned that his Dad was a toolmaker? Er … yes he had, because he told us last year. And the year before that. And the year before that. It’s as though Starmer has unresolved issues with his father that he keeps trying to work out in public. Maybe it would be more helpful if he saved that for a therapist instead. Because the minute he talks about his dad, you can feel the energy being sucked out of the room. People have enough on their plates dealing with their own Freudian dilemmas to worry about Keir’s. And they’ve heard it all before.
But maybe the brief therapy session had done Keir some good. Because after that he was a different man. Making personal attacks on Nige, Liz Truss and Boris Johnson. For never having cared enough about the country to have considered its future. Too interested in stoking division and lining their own pockets. The audience loved this bit. The boos rang round the hall as Starmer reminded everyone that Farage had said that Jaguar Land Rover deserved to go bust.
Then on to immigration. The real point of difference with Reform. There was nothing compassionate or progressive about people crossing in small boats and Keir would secure the borders. There was nothing racist about being concerned about immigration, but there was plenty racist about Nige’s plans for mass deportation. Getting rid of the very men and women who staffed our care homes and hospitals. Just because they happened to be born the wrong colour.
“Britain is not broken,” Keir went on. By now, almost elegaiac. It always helps when a politician gets to say something he believes. Here the logic was stretched somewhat. Because although Britain was not broken, Starmer did insist that it needed mending. Or at the very least renewing. But this was the good part. The peroration. The whole audience were on their feet, cheering every word as he approached the close. A last swipe at the Tories – remember them? Keir barely did – and one last hit on Nige and he was done.
If this was to be his last leader’s speech to a Labour conference, Keir could leave content. He had given it his best shot. Nothing had been left in the locker.
The Bonfire of the Insanities by John Crace (Guardian Faber Publishing, £16.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
