In October 2012, I read a tweet that popped up on my timeline. It read: “Happy Birthday Baroness Thatcher.” Seeing nothing particularly offensive in the sentiment, I hit Retweet and thought no more of it.
Until the next day, that is. when a particularly excitable member of my local Labor Party decided that by wishing the former Prime Minister a happy birthday – even in one go – I had betrayed the entire Labor movement, the working class, the miners and… Well, you get my point.
During the following week, on the eve of my local party’s monthly general committee meeting, she attempted to stir up an uprising among my members, trying to encourage as many others as possible to share her outrage and outrage at this colossal betrayal by a sitting MP from The Labor Party. On the night of the meeting itself, she didn’t say a word about it.
But it was a sign of things to come, if only I was aware. A year later, when Baroness Thatcher died, there were some unsavory personalities across the country who sought media attention by holding open-air “parties” in public places, singing joyous songs in honor of the death of their former enemy. Attempts were made to obtain “Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead” from The Wizard of Oz to the top of the charts.
Many of those who took part in such events were hard-left lunatics, but many were members of the Labor Party (inevitably some were both). Perhaps my unfortunate Twitter follower was one of them. I began to wonder if this was really the right party for me.
It was only a few years since Tony Blair unwittingly inaugurated a new House of Commons tradition when he left the chamber at the end of his final Prime Minister’s Questions to the thunderous applause of his fellow MPs. Clapping is generally not allowed in the hall, this was an exceptional occasion. What made it even more emotional – especially for those of us who have not conspired to oust him and who would really prefer him to stay – was the involvement (albeit reluctantly) of the opposition banks.
Conservative MPs initially seemed determined not to take part in this unexpected tribute to the man they hated and blamed for the ridiculously long time they had already spent in opposition. But then something happened that changed their minds: their leader, David Cameron, stood up, turned to his troops and ordered them to follow suit. And they did. Few of them were happy about it, but they knew they had to follow their leader.
Cameron knew what he was talking about. It is doubtful that he had any more respect or admiration for Blair than any of his MPs. But he knew how it would look on television to the voters tonight if only half the room joined in the ovation. So his behavior was cynical and opportunistic, but it was also polite to a certain extent. Say what you like about these Eton boys, but they have impeccable manners.
Yesterday, Keir Starmer decided to end this 15-year-old tradition. As Boris Johnson wrapped up his final PMQs (at least for now), the Labor leader remained resolute on his bench, looking grim and uncomfortable but trying to give observers the look of determination. He and his MPs, you see, are too virtuous, too frankly good, to indulge in paying false homage to a man they hate. What’s more, Johnson is a man that Labor hates just as much as they hated Baroness Thatcher. If Starmer and other Labor MPs had joined the tribute, they would have faced their biggest political challenge, an experience that no Labor MP could live through: some of their campaigners would call them out things at the next local party meeting.
Johnson, for reasons that have never been explained to me, incites the kid with a hatred in people on the left that is usually reserved for war criminals. This in itself is not so surprising: the left tends to see fascism in every shadow, in every opposing argument, in every policy with which it disagrees. Johnson committed the unforgivable crime of backing Brexit: he was personally blamed by Remainers for the narrow victory of the Leave campaign in 2016, perhaps in itself a testament to the Prime Minister’s campaigning and persuasive skills.
I have a number of left-wing, Labor-supporting friends whose views on Johnson strike me as truly unfounded, especially as he is by most measures the most left-wing Tory leader in my lifetime. Yet this hatred is widespread.
Watching yesterday’s proceedings in Parliament, the thought arose: is Starmer staying seated because of his own antagonism to Johnson? He doesn’t seem capable of strong emotion about anything and seems, like Cameron, too well-bred to not realize how impolite his behavior seems.
The alternative explanation is less encouraging: Was he refusing to stand up and clap because he was worried about the judgment of his peers? Certainly not, because that would disqualify him from the title of leader.
So what would have happened if Starmer had shown the same courage as David Cameron in 2007, if he had been the first on the Labor benches to stand up, if he had turned to his colleagues and openly encouraged them to do the same?
Would they refuse? It would have been a blow – possibly a final one – to Starmer’s authority. Yet after years of using every playground insult they could think of to describe the prime minister, how could they risk being accused of hypocrisy by joining?
Therefore, it is more likely that Starmer simply did not believe that his troops would follow him from above and did not want to take the risk. Labor MPs are brave men and women; they’re ready to serve in government, they’re ready to stand up to Putin and make the tough choices Britain has to make, but they’re not going to incur the wrath of that old lady who’s still wearing the ‘Don’t blame me, I voted Remain ‘ badge to the monthly meetings, or – may I forgive you! – risk the Guardian’s wrath.
Whatever his reasons for defiantly refusing to honor a departing opponent, Starmer’s behavior and that of his party does not reflect well on him. Voters may not like one party or another and may have their reasons for wanting to see the back of Johnson. But the majority of them also like to see their politicians magnanimous, noble in victory (even when the “victory” in this case belongs to Johnson’s party colleagues, not the Labor opposition).
And so by one questionable action (or rather inaction) a welcome innovation in Commons tradition was devalued. Outgoing Prime Ministers will no longer be cheered out of the chamber by all parties, unless the opposition personally likes it. That seems a bit petty and mean to me. And, I suspect, to many others.
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