In politics, as in life, expectations and realities are two sides of different coins. They are separated by a deep gully and widened daily by intervening variables. For most Brits, at least judging by online polls, the current premiership of Keir Starmer could be likened to a monstrous white elephant that no amount of bows or ribbons could disguise.
However, like all prime ministers, Starmer is concerned about how history will judge him. Whatever happens, he will arguably be judged to have done better than the last Conservative government and particularly the government of Anthony Eden, the Conservative Prime Minister who routinely occupies last place in historians’ lists of the most successful premiers of modern times.
Ranging from his classic flip-flops on a national inquiry into grooming gangs, winter fuel payment, welfare bill, and his island of strangers speech, Starmer has done what he can to escape his political fate. The mere act of remaining in power can do much to diminish the appearance of foolhardiness—just as Eden’s premature departure from office in January 1957, though on health grounds, came to overshadow his lingering reputation for honour and decency.
It is also true that Starmer’s willingness to expose himself to ridicule has helped to inoculate him against its most dangerous effects. The regular rhetoric of Starmer’s politics has been that criticism doesn’t matter; what matters is staying in the game. For his supporters and political spin doctors, this is a weird science that enables them to see what others cannot see.
This political doctrine has been reflected in Starmer’s preferred strategy, which has to do with making sure that the opposition have nothing left in their political locker, except emotional manipulation of the public. From parliamentary banters to political discussions on the state of the country, Nigel Farage’s Reform UK and Kemi Badenoch’s Conservative Party have often accused Starmer of bungling and abusing their ideas.
It Is equally captured in his one-in-one-out immigration deal with the French government in light of the ongoing immigration crisis that has seen a ridiculous number of small boat immigrants come to the UK over the English Channel. This bilateral treaty between the two governments, which was agreed on Thursday, July 10, 2025, during Emmanuel Macron’s three-day state visit to the UK, has often been exaggerated, misunderstood, or manipulated by the opposition—with Reform Party routinely describing it as a political smokescreen.
Keir Starmer recently unveiled his government’s plan to create a new Digital ID for the country. He has constantly tried to allay the fears and paranoid anxieties of the UK public over “the level of illegal migration into this country.” This is coming on the heels of widespread reports that over twenty thousand people had made the dangerous journey as of late July.
On 26 September, the Prime Minister shared on his official Facebook page how he intends to use the Digital ID as “another measure to make it tougher to work illegally here, making our borders more secure.” He has also not failed to accuse the opposition of constantly “talking down on our country” and stoking the fire of “division.”
Of Farage, it can be said that political courage is making him possible, public disillusionment is responsible for his rise, and press and public could well share the blame for ignoring his human frailties, which has further polarised British politics and paralysed his adversaries. Recognising the role of emotion in determining the fate of a country, and equally realising that immigration will determine many elections in the 21st century, Farage, especially, seems to have activated such a political network that where there is fire, you don’t wave at the smoke. If you do, you just fan the flames—you have to put out the fire.
On October 14, after a major court ruling at Southwark Crown Court, London, Farage said, “The illegal migrant who threatened to kill me has been sentenced to five years in prison. How many more people like Mada Pasa have crossed the Channel?”
The fact is, well, Farage is highly cerebral. I have listened to not a few of his political speeches and debates. And I can say, without flattery, that he could speak an owl out of a tree. He thrives on policy debates, arguments, and statistics.
All that may look terrific in the abstract, but it becomes self-destructive when we get down to details. Truth be told, the empirical record linking moral superiority of an individual and intellectual rigour isn’t very strong. I can remember that while philosopher Martin Heidegger was sympathising with the Nazis, many Germans of far less intellectual means were not. Indeed, the most dangerous kind of psychopath is a smart one.
The extent to which the British political landscape has been dominated over the years by the gamble personality of an individual has done nothing to curtail the growing public disillusionment towards elected politicians in general. Similar to Tony Blair’s greatly personal approach to the risk of war with Iraq, and the unconventional way he manipulated those risks to stay afloat in the murky political waters, some of Starmer’s policies have unsurprisingly offered many people an opportunity to cast doubt on the merit of any Prime Minister to place enormous faith in their own judgement.
Indeed, this is something that Starmer could never have foreseen. His political fate has come to resemble the game of whack-a-mole—beat down one and watch other creatures pop out of other holes. And not being designed to deal with this kind of multifaceted challenge, even the most powerful premierships don’t know what to do.
To anyone who hasn’t seen a Britain like this, it is likely to sound preposterous. But to anyone who thinks it has happened before, the country will become a very different place. After all, it is impossible to remain a pessimist when you have escaped the armageddon.
But to have done barely better than these previous governments is scarcely enough to justify what he has been through. His ultimate reputation will depend on how he navigates these unreasonable times, and the prospects look uncertain at best.
Anyway, for Starmer and on behalf of Apostle Paul, this may be the best time to invoke the biblical prophecy: “that the sufferings of our present times are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us.
When all the political push-pull has faded, history may only see the paltry rewards—and decide that it wasn’t really worth it, though perhaps Starmer himself might hope that the glory, in time, will be revealed.
