Starmer’s Days in No.10 May Be Numbered

With This Capitulation to the Left, this is more than a political setback – Starmerism is teetering on the edge of collapse

It has become increasingly evident that Sir Keir Starmer is making significant concessions to the hardline Left factions within his own party in a desperate attempt to preserve his premiership. The once-firm stance on welfare reform, long touted as a cornerstone of his government’s economic credibility, has been substantially watered down following mounting pressure from rebellious Labour backbenchers. This development is not merely a personal embarrassment for Starmer – it signals a broader, more fundamental unravelling of what has been described as “Starmerism”: a moderate, technocratic vision of Labour governance standing between the ideological far-Left and the reins of state power.

The crumbling of this ideological bulwark has profound implications. The Chancellor, Rachel Reeves, alongside Treasury officials, is likely now confronting the bleak reality that Britain may have little choice but to persist with policies that prioritise mass immigration and ever-increasing levels of taxation. Ambitions such as dedicating 5 per cent of GDP to defence spending will rapidly recede into the realm of fantasy; even achieving a 3 per cent target may soon appear hopelessly optimistic. And all of this precedes the deeper, more troubling moral failure: the inability to sever the country from a spiralling dependency on state benefits – a failure that threatens not just fiscal stability, but the moral contract between citizens and their government.

Public spending on welfare has expanded to eye-watering levels in recent years. Alarmingly, around one in ten people of working age are now receiving sickness or disability-related benefits. If current trends continue unabated, projections suggest that by the end of this decade, expenditure on disability benefits alone could equal, if not exceed, the combined national outlay on transport, policing, and adult social care. This trajectory is not just unsustainable; it is catastrophic. As the pool of economically active individuals diminishes, and as state spending rises inexorably to meet growing demand, the nation edges closer to fiscal ruin.

Starmer’s proposed reforms – heralded by some as bold, necessary, and courageous – did not go nearly far enough. The Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) estimated that even under the original plan, the benefits bill would still rise by an additional £8 billion by 2030. The controversy currently engulfing his government, which threatens to unravel his leadership altogether, would not even have resulted in a reduction in the overall cost. The reforms were modest in scope – and even these have now been diluted.

This U-turn, this surrender, carries grave consequences. Trust in Britain’s economic direction is at risk, not immediately, but inexorably. The markets have long memories, and an eventual loss of confidence could trigger a financial reckoning reminiscent of the one witnessed under Liz Truss – a full-blown market revolt that could imperil the nation’s financial standing and political stability.

Labour was elected on a platform promising “change”. When Chancellor Reeves raised taxes by an astonishing £40 billion in a single fiscal statement, she insisted this was necessary to “fix the foundations” of the British economy. The government has made concerted efforts to distance itself from what it describes as the “fantasy economics” espoused by Reform UK and others on the populist Right. But how can such rhetoric be squared with this latest retreat on benefits reform? How can Labour credibly maintain that it is making “tough decisions for the greater good” while backing away from necessary fiscal discipline?

In the wake of this climbdown, emboldened elements of the far-Left within the Labour Party will undoubtedly argue that the moment has arrived to pivot further towards a brand of populist socialism. Having succeeded in undermining Starmer’s attempt at moderate reform, they may now press for policies that mirror Nigel Farage’s immigration rhetoric with a corresponding surge in economic populism. We can expect calls for new wealth taxes, increased levies on pensions, and punitive charges on second homeowners to rise to the surface. The ideological pendulum is swinging – and Labour’s leadership may be unable or unwilling to arrest its momentum.

Above all, this failure to implement benefit reforms represents a profound moral crisis. Britain is fast becoming a country where those who contribute, who strive, who seek to elevate themselves and their families through work and enterprise, are penalised – while those who opt out of economic participation are increasingly protected and even celebrated. The state, through excessive taxation and regulatory burdens, is stifling private initiative and choking off the very enterprise upon which long-term prosperity depends. We have learnt this week that more than seven million people are now classified as higher-rate taxpayers – a staggering increase of over 40 per cent since the 2022–23 financial year.

Meanwhile, the narrative surrounding the permanently inactive has been reframed to such an extent that they are now almost untouchable. The terms “vulnerable” and “deserving” are applied with sweeping generality, shielding entire categories of benefit recipients from scrutiny. Welfare dependency is indulged rather than challenged. In contrast, the self-employed, small business owners, and those who have accumulated assets through hard work are often treated by the state with suspicion – as if they were tax evaders in waiting.

Of course, a compassionate society must support those who are genuinely unable to work due to serious disability or illness. But there must be a clear distinction between supporting the truly vulnerable and enabling a culture of entitlement. There is a moral difference between the respectable working class, often trying to do the right thing under difficult circumstances, and an underclass entrenched in dysfunction, generational dependency, and grievance.

During a recent visit to a deprived estate in the North East of England, residents spoke candidly about the bleak aspirations of local youths. Many believed their best option in life was to become drug dealers. Others saw their futures as being dictated by “luck” rather than by personal responsibility or effort. Some parents, too ashamed to attend job-seeking support services, appeared perfectly comfortable claiming benefits through faceless bureaucratic channels.

Those who, like Diane Abbott, declare piously that “there is nothing moral about cutting benefits” ought to spend meaningful time in these communities. Let them witness first-hand the corrosive effect of unchecked welfarism: the disintegration of family structures, the erosion of adult dignity, the suffocation of youthful ambition. These are not hypothetical consequences – they are visible scars on the national conscience.

Starmer’s failure was not inevitable. Labour could have made a robust, centre-Left case for reform. It is entirely possible to reduce benefit dependency while simultaneously treating the genuinely disabled with greater dignity – for instance, by reintroducing in-person assessments to ensure claims are valid and targeted effectively. Labour could have taken note of this week’s British Social Attitudes Survey, which revealed that less than half the population (45 per cent) support increased spending on benefits for those unable to work due to disability. Notably, nearly a third of respondents now believe it is too easy to claim such benefits – a stark reflection of shifting public sentiment.

There is mounting evidence that tough welfare policies can, in fact, deliver political rewards. While public sympathy briefly swelled during the COVID-19 lockdown period, recent polling by experts such as James Frayne indicates that attitudes are hardening. A growing number of voters perceive the benefits system as ineffective, if not outright biased against the working class.

Rather than sheltering behind outdated leftist slogans about the “dignity of work”, Starmer might have taken the opportunity to speak with clarity and conviction about the real issues: people making false or exaggerated claims based on self-diagnosed mental health conditions, the exploitation of vague bureaucratic language, and the need to re-establish boundaries and standards.

The Prime Minister’s reluctance to voice these uncomfortable truths has only served to embolden his internal critics. As one outspoken Labour MP put it to me: “I’ve yet to hear a minister explain why the UK’s budget shortfall should be patched up at the expense of the disabled. If you can’t justify it publicly, then maybe you shouldn’t be doing it at all.”

In the short term, these latest concessions may buy Starmer a brief political reprieve – a moment of quiet amid the storm. But in the longer term, they may have sealed his fate. The credibility of his leadership is now in question, his reformist agenda in tatters, and the ideological centre-ground he hoped to occupy is rapidly disappearing beneath his feet.

Sir Keir Starmer’s tenure in Downing Street is beginning to look precariously fragile. And unless he rediscovers the political courage to confront the uncomfortable truths facing Britain, his days as Prime Minister may indeed be numbered.