Keir Starmer, Political Shapeshifting and Self-Mythologising
Opinion, 1 July 2026
by L.A. Davenport
It pains me to see how long it is since I last published a column on here. Evidently, the intervening weeks and months have flown by, and I can look back and say with all honesty that I have been so busy and preoccupied with other matters, both personal and professional, that it was simply not feasible to have also produced something for Pushing the Wave. Yet it tugged at me every time I saw a reminder on my calendar, or visited the site for other reasons.
What fascinates me, however, is that the passage of time has meant that columns I planned out at the start of spring this year have become relevant again, and in ways that I might not have predicted at the time. Although it is a truism to say that underlying patterns and the inevitable consequences of actions become much clearer with hindsight; and in many ways time is circular.
Such is the case with the resignation of Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer last week, an act of autodefenestration that was distinguished only by him having taken himself out of office rather than waiting for Andy Burnham to do it for him. As I watched him attempt to control the narrative around his legacy, I was struck by how sad it is to watch a person have to face, in the most public way possible, his detractors head on and admit that he no longer had the backing of his party or the British people. From a practical point of view, Starmer's time as leader of the Labour Party and head of the UK government was over, even though technically he remained in power with a thumping parliamentary majority to back it up. Regardless of his actual abilities or achievements, the game was up, and there was nothing he could do about it.
The rather emotional ending to his speech, in which he underlined that the most important job for him now is that of being a good husband and a good father, created the impression of a dignified statesman who, in standing aside for a once-discarded leftover from the New Labour governments of the early 2000s, was doing what was right for the country in a time of need.
It was a fascinating piece of historiography but Starmer will doubtless be made aware in the fullness of time that it is the victors who get to chronicle the times. Even though he once was all-conquering, his ignominious end, just two years after taking the reins of the country, is a sobering reminder that all political careers end in failure.
The impression that Starmer gave, and has always tried to project, is that of someone who is dedicated entirely to public service, and who puts the needs of Britain and the British people above those of his own. It is a lofty ideal, but one that does not correspond with the image of the man that has emerged from leaked discussions and his conduct over the past few months. And if there is one act that has stained his premiership more than any other, it is the appointment of Peter Mandelson as ambassador to the US.
The subsequent fallout once the true nature of Mandelson's connections with Jeffrey Epstein became clear, and the machinations behind his appointment as ambassador in the first place, followed by the scramble to cover those up, demonstrated beyond all doubt that "public service", "decency", and "restoring trust"—words mentioned at least once during Starmer's resignation speech—were the least of his considerations at any point along the way.
Don't get me wrong, I believe that Starmer would like to be a good man, and doubtless is one to his friends and family. When he was elected to power, I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, and believed that the pathetic sleaze scandal that surrounded the early days of the Labour government was outside of his control. However, it became all too obvious that the only principle that motivated Starmer was getting the job of Prime Minister and then hanging on to it, like so many of those that have come before him.
For all his professed desire to make Britain a better place for its people, no matter their background or station in life, the utter lack of an overriding theme or set of ideas beyond that of selfish interest, and the increasingly apparent inability to focus on anything other than his reputation and standing in the press, revealed him for what he is: a shameless political shapeshifter in the mould of Boris Johnson, albeit with manipulative buffoonery replaced by dour seriousness, both serving as a smokescreen for their real intentions.
It reminds me of a fellow student at university. He was, at first, a mathematician who was in many ways unremarkable. Then he disappeared for an academic year and returned after apparently spending an extended period in India as a tie-dyed hippy. He followed every cliché imaginable, constantly criticising modern capitalism (fair enough) and characterising the preoccupations of Westerners as impure compared to those of the simpler, better people he saw in India (thus engaging fully with the racist post-colonial romanticising of the ‘noble savage’).
We all graduated in due course, and I next saw him a year or so later in a bar on the edge of the Square Mile, still to a certain extent the beating heart of business and financial Britain. He was dressed in a suit and tie, having come straight from the office where he worked as a management consultant. I was amazed, and a little disappointed, to find him having undertaken such an utter about-face, when he had talked with absolute conviction as a student about the evils of the world he had now joined.
I challenged him about this and he brushed off all talk of his former self, not as an embarrassment but as an irrelevance, as if it was totally normal to pick up and drop identities, no matter how incompatible, as one passes through life. I realised he acted the way he did at each stage of his life because ‘that’s what you do’ to realise whatever ambition you have at the time. It was my first introduction to the idea that, for some people, personalities are to be adopted simply for expediency’s sake, or to gain advantage.
It is a morally questionable approach but one that is of course remarkably common in politics. Although Mandelson changed direction more times than a reed blowing in the wind, he has remained in many ways extremely consistent over his many years in the public eye: always a charmer with a chancer’s eye on what he could gain from any given situation, untroubled by any real political convictions. His true weak spot being his infatuation with money and power.
Starmer portrayed himself as the antithesis of that: a solid, dependable and respectable lawyer; a family man from a humble background; a constant and unbendable moral man. Looking back over his time as Prime Minister, it has become clear that, while no one can truly live up to the mythos they must create around themselves to become electable, Starmer's only true conviction is his view of himself. The rest is an irrelevance.
Now all we can do is wait and see whether Andy Burnham believes in anything other than himself. I fear we may be disappointed.
What fascinates me, however, is that the passage of time has meant that columns I planned out at the start of spring this year have become relevant again, and in ways that I might not have predicted at the time. Although it is a truism to say that underlying patterns and the inevitable consequences of actions become much clearer with hindsight; and in many ways time is circular.
Such is the case with the resignation of Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer last week, an act of autodefenestration that was distinguished only by him having taken himself out of office rather than waiting for Andy Burnham to do it for him. As I watched him attempt to control the narrative around his legacy, I was struck by how sad it is to watch a person have to face, in the most public way possible, his detractors head on and admit that he no longer had the backing of his party or the British people. From a practical point of view, Starmer's time as leader of the Labour Party and head of the UK government was over, even though technically he remained in power with a thumping parliamentary majority to back it up. Regardless of his actual abilities or achievements, the game was up, and there was nothing he could do about it.
The rather emotional ending to his speech, in which he underlined that the most important job for him now is that of being a good husband and a good father, created the impression of a dignified statesman who, in standing aside for a once-discarded leftover from the New Labour governments of the early 2000s, was doing what was right for the country in a time of need.
It was a fascinating piece of historiography but Starmer will doubtless be made aware in the fullness of time that it is the victors who get to chronicle the times. Even though he once was all-conquering, his ignominious end, just two years after taking the reins of the country, is a sobering reminder that all political careers end in failure.
The impression that Starmer gave, and has always tried to project, is that of someone who is dedicated entirely to public service, and who puts the needs of Britain and the British people above those of his own. It is a lofty ideal, but one that does not correspond with the image of the man that has emerged from leaked discussions and his conduct over the past few months. And if there is one act that has stained his premiership more than any other, it is the appointment of Peter Mandelson as ambassador to the US.
The subsequent fallout once the true nature of Mandelson's connections with Jeffrey Epstein became clear, and the machinations behind his appointment as ambassador in the first place, followed by the scramble to cover those up, demonstrated beyond all doubt that "public service", "decency", and "restoring trust"—words mentioned at least once during Starmer's resignation speech—were the least of his considerations at any point along the way.
Don't get me wrong, I believe that Starmer would like to be a good man, and doubtless is one to his friends and family. When he was elected to power, I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, and believed that the pathetic sleaze scandal that surrounded the early days of the Labour government was outside of his control. However, it became all too obvious that the only principle that motivated Starmer was getting the job of Prime Minister and then hanging on to it, like so many of those that have come before him.
For all his professed desire to make Britain a better place for its people, no matter their background or station in life, the utter lack of an overriding theme or set of ideas beyond that of selfish interest, and the increasingly apparent inability to focus on anything other than his reputation and standing in the press, revealed him for what he is: a shameless political shapeshifter in the mould of Boris Johnson, albeit with manipulative buffoonery replaced by dour seriousness, both serving as a smokescreen for their real intentions.
It reminds me of a fellow student at university. He was, at first, a mathematician who was in many ways unremarkable. Then he disappeared for an academic year and returned after apparently spending an extended period in India as a tie-dyed hippy. He followed every cliché imaginable, constantly criticising modern capitalism (fair enough) and characterising the preoccupations of Westerners as impure compared to those of the simpler, better people he saw in India (thus engaging fully with the racist post-colonial romanticising of the ‘noble savage’).
We all graduated in due course, and I next saw him a year or so later in a bar on the edge of the Square Mile, still to a certain extent the beating heart of business and financial Britain. He was dressed in a suit and tie, having come straight from the office where he worked as a management consultant. I was amazed, and a little disappointed, to find him having undertaken such an utter about-face, when he had talked with absolute conviction as a student about the evils of the world he had now joined.
I challenged him about this and he brushed off all talk of his former self, not as an embarrassment but as an irrelevance, as if it was totally normal to pick up and drop identities, no matter how incompatible, as one passes through life. I realised he acted the way he did at each stage of his life because ‘that’s what you do’ to realise whatever ambition you have at the time. It was my first introduction to the idea that, for some people, personalities are to be adopted simply for expediency’s sake, or to gain advantage.
It is a morally questionable approach but one that is of course remarkably common in politics. Although Mandelson changed direction more times than a reed blowing in the wind, he has remained in many ways extremely consistent over his many years in the public eye: always a charmer with a chancer’s eye on what he could gain from any given situation, untroubled by any real political convictions. His true weak spot being his infatuation with money and power.
Starmer portrayed himself as the antithesis of that: a solid, dependable and respectable lawyer; a family man from a humble background; a constant and unbendable moral man. Looking back over his time as Prime Minister, it has become clear that, while no one can truly live up to the mythos they must create around themselves to become electable, Starmer's only true conviction is his view of himself. The rest is an irrelevance.
Now all we can do is wait and see whether Andy Burnham believes in anything other than himself. I fear we may be disappointed.
© L.A. Davenport 2017-2026.
Keir Starmer’s Resignation and Political Shapeshifting | Pushing the Wave