Successful politicians are storytellers. They tell attention-grabbing tales in their speeches, plans and manifestoes to engage voters – that’s how politics works. In the case of UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer, that’s why it doesn’t work.
Unless a politician outlines a convincing narrative then follows through with action, the result is voter disappointment and political failure. Politicians know they need positive attention, but the catch is obvious: how best to get it in an attention-poor world?
Mr Starmer could talk of acting competently in what he saw as the national interest, but most voters would be hard-pressed to list his most notable achievements beyond incremental changes and a few U-turns. That made him profoundly unpopular and sums up why he has resigned.
Of course, there is no shortage of shouty attention-seeking politicians in Washington, Westminster and elsewhere. Mr Starmer – admirably – is not one of them. Nevertheless, his key failure was an inability to communicate a truly engaging personal and political vision in an era when the lack of that kind of story is political suicide.
A few years ago, I wrote a book on political storytelling inspired by leaders I had met. The idea for Lessons from the Top came from a chance encounter with a future US president in a hotel lobby in New Hampshire. At the start of my assignment working for the BBC in North America, I literally bumped into then-governor Bill Clinton of Arkansas.
I was with a BBC film crew and somewhat clumsily collided with the future president of the United States. Mr Clinton was hot and sweaty in jogging clothes after his morning run. We laughed at the minor collision and struck up a conversation. Mr Clinton mentioned he was thinking about announcing his candidacy for the presidency. I asked for a TV interview. He agreed. We fixed a time and then as a parting shot, he said something truly memorable: “Y’know I’m just a boy from Hope.” Mr Clinton explained that the town of Hope, Arkansas was where he grew up.
“The boy from Hope” was a brilliant four-word story, a soundbite his team repeated endlessly. It helped catapult Mr Clinton into the White House. This storytelling insight encouraged me to write a book about other storytellers, including Margaret Thatcher who called herself “a grocer’s daughter from Grantham”, a small middle-England town, and a phrase that resonated in Britain.
During the book research, I concluded that all successful political leaders tell three basic stories. The first is “who am I” as a person. Then it’s “who are we” as a group, political party or nation. Mr Clinton, the boy from Hope, spoke of “we” as “new” Democrats, presumably unlike “old” Democrats that you might dislike. In Britain, former prime minister Tony Blair copied this technique, saying his party – “we” – were “New” Labour not “Old” Labour – whatever that was.
The third story is key: “Where will my leadership take us?” This simple technique worked in different ways for Mr Blair, Mr Clinton, Ms Thatcher, Donald Trump and countless others. But Mr Starmer never got it quite right.
His “who am I” story was that he was “the son of a toolmaker”. This was true but lacked resonance, especially since he was well-known as a leading lawyer. His “who are we” story was even less inspiring. He suggested Labour was the party of change and competence. But the bold, eye-catching changes were never clear.
Mr Starmer’s political U-turns undermined the idea of competence. Moreover, he had a huge parliamentary majority but moved timidly even on the open goal of Brexit. He wanted better relations with the EU, yet disappointed pro-European voters who see Brexit as a disaster while irritating the minority of voters who liked Brexit and thought the issue was closed.
The result is what looks like the coronation of Andy Burnham as prime minister. He scored a huge by-election win last week and soundly defeated Nigel Farage’s Reform UK candidate. Whatever you think of his policies, Mr Burnham is an engaging storyteller.
He can explain how he reformed the Manchester transport system, and his enthusiasm makes even better bus and rail services sound hugely interesting. He can boast about co-operating with the Conservative mayor of the West Midlands to gain more powers for big-city administrators, while standing firm against racists and the far right.
Mr Burnham is, in other words, an attention-grabbing politician in an attention-poor world, while Mr Starmer, for all his intelligence and decency, never really connected with or energised the British people despite his admirable life story.
Mr Starmer rose from humble beginnings to become the most powerful politician in the UK. Yet these are noisy times in which his quiet-man approach will never cut through. He was a whisperer in an age of politicians with megaphones.
The bigger question now is whether Mr Burnham can turn personal charisma and a thumping by-election win into coherent policies that British voters will engage with and ultimately support. That would be a really important story that would capture the imagination of people in Britain and beyond.
