Frontpageophobia - Starmer's Fatal Flaw?
How Starmer's Fear of the Right-Wing Press Risks Labour's Unity, Vision, and Future
On Thursday, 16th September, British news channels broadcast unsettling images of Prime Minister Keir Starmer laughing jovially beside Italy’s far-right leader, Giorgia Meloni. This disquieting camaraderie served as a grim reminder—Starmer, it appears, is seeking lessons in migration policy from a figure who walks in Mussolini’s shadow.
Starmer’s stance on migration, marked by a stern promise to "stop the boats" more effectively than the Tories, aligns disturbingly with a far-right ethos. This approach sidesteps simple and compassionate alternatives, like expanding legal migration routes, instead favouring draconian measures reminiscent of his conservative counterparts. Moreover, his decision to slash the Winter Fuel Allowance, stripping £1.5 billion from pensioners to partially plug a £22 billion deficit, heralds a stark return to the austerity politics of David Cameron. This choice starkly overlooks the potential to levy taxes on wealthier households, a policy deeply opposed by the right-wing press.
In the arena of international relations, the modest reduction of arms export licences to Israel—just 30 out of 350—reflects a strategic choice. Framing this decision as ‘strictly legal,’ Starmer underscores continuity with previous administrations, aiming to temper criticism from the pro-Israel right-wing press. Yet, with only 13% of Britons supporting Israel’s military actions, this continued arms trade raises grave accusations of complicity in acts many view as ethnic cleansing and war crimes. Starmer’s reliance on legal justifications reframes the issue of arms sales as one that can be addressed through competent governance, but it pleases no one.
"Frontpageophobia," as James O’Brien aptly terms it, seems to steer Starmer’s hand—an ingrained fear of negative press from the right-wing media that has led Labour to forsake much of the transformative vision it once promised its base. This anxiety has manifested in Starmer’s strategic avoidance of policies that could cast his leadership or Labour as too ‘left-wing’, reflecting a belief that tempering their stance will shield them from the wrath of conservative outlets. Yet, this failing did not begin with Labour’s rise to power; it was, regrettably, at the heart of Labour’s long electoral campaign.
Pledges Abandoned in Fear of the Right-Wing Press
Starmer’s shift towards the centre in the run-up to the 2024 general election represented a clear break from the pledges that initially won him support within Labour’s left-wing base. During his leadership campaign in 2020, Starmer had positioned himself as a unifier who embraced many of the progressive policies that defined Labour under Jeremy Corbyn. These included commitments to nationalising key industries—rail, mail, energy, and water—policies popular among voters who saw privatisation as inflating costs and eroding public accountability.
However, as the election approached, Starmer quietly dropped these commitments. Labour’s manifesto no longer featured plans for public ownership, opting instead for a strategy that emphasised regulating industries rather than taking them into public hands. This pivot away from the 2019 platform disillusioned many who had supported Starmer on the basis of his leadership promises. His shift was seen as an attempt to make Labour more appealing to centrist voters and those disillusioned with the Conservatives, particularly in the red wall constituencies Labour lost in 2019.
The same pattern emerged in taxation policy. Initially, Starmer hinted at taxes on the wealthy to address inequality, a cornerstone of the economic vision laid out under Corbyn. Yet, as Labour moved towards the centre, these ambitious proposals were scaled back. Instead of pushing for a wealth tax, Labour’s 2024 platform prioritised fiscal responsibility and more modest tax reforms, aimed at appealing to middle-class voters and businesses. This left many progressives frustrated, having expected a bolder agenda that addressed the root causes of inequality in the UK.
Perhaps one of the most significant betrayals, according to the party’s left, was the scaling back of the Green New Deal. Starmer had originally championed the plan as a transformative investment in green jobs and infrastructure to tackle climate change. But by the time of the 2024 election, the scope of Labour’s environmental proposals had been drastically reduced. The Green New Deal, once envisioned as a radical reimagining of the UK’s post-carbon economy, was pared down to a more moderate set of proposals, focusing on incremental rather than transformational steps toward environmental targets.
The ‘Purge’ of Left-Wing Figures
Alongside these policy reversals, Starmer’s leadership has been marked by the systematic sidelining of Labour’s most prominent left-wing voices. The most symbolic of these actions was the suspension of Jeremy Corbyn in 2020, following his comments on a report into antisemitism in the Labour Party. Corbyn’s suspension signalled Starmer’s determination to distance himself from the party’s recent past and assert control over its internal direction. By decisively acting against Corbyn, Starmer made it clear that Labour under his leadership would not be seen as a continuation of the Corbyn years.
Other left-wing MPs have also been marginalised. Pro-Palestinian figures like Zarah Sultana and Richard Burgon found themselves pushed to the periphery of the party, with Starmer seemingly wary of allowing their voices to dominate key issues. Sultana and Burgon, known for their strong support for Palestinian rights, were increasingly side-lined as Starmer sought to avoid international controversies that could alienate more moderate voters.
This purge extended to Starmer’s approach to trade unionism. During the wave of strikes in 2022, Starmer instructed his shadow cabinet to avoid joining picket lines—a move that sharply contrasted with Labour’s historic support for workers and unions. Many on the left saw this as further proof that the party was abandoning its traditional base in favour of a centrist, voter-friendly image.
The case of Diane Abbott, one of Labour’s most prominent left-wing MPs, exemplifies Starmer’s strategy. In 2023, Abbott was suspended from the party after writing a letter to The Observer suggesting that while Jewish, Irish, and Traveller communities experience prejudice, they do not face racism in the same way Black people do. Her comments were widely condemned as downplaying antisemitism, and despite issuing an apology, her suspension inexplicably remained in place for months.
As the 2024 general election neared, uncertainty loomed over whether Abbott would be allowed to stand as the Labour candidate for her long-held seat in Hackney North and Stoke Newington. Although the party restored the whip after a lengthy investigation, reports surfaced that senior Labour figures had briefed she would not be selected. Abbott herself publicly stated she had been effectively “banned” from running, despite fulfilling all the requirements set out by Labour’s National Executive Committee. Many on the party’s left saw this as part of a broader effort to marginalise prominent progressive voices within Labour.
These internal ‘purges’, combined with the abandonment of core left-wing policies like nationalisation, tax reform, and the Green New Deal, reflect Starmer’s deliberate strategy to shift Labour to the centre and avoid the ire of the right-wing press. The calculation was simple: Labour needed to win back voters in the red wall constituencies lost in 2019, while attracting disillusioned Conservative voters in the South. The assumption was that left-wing voters had no alternative but to support Labour, despite their disappointment with Starmer’s centrist shift.
Did Frontpageophobia Work or Just Work Out?
At first glance, this strategy paid off. Labour secured a 172-seat majority—the kind of victory many thought impossible just a few years earlier. But as with all majorities, the surface triumph masked deeper vulnerabilities. Labour’s vote share barely shifted—rising from 32.1% in 2019 to just 33.7% in 2024, far below the 40% achieved under Corbyn in 2017. Political analyst John Curtice was quick to point out that this modest increase was almost entirely due to the collapse of the SNP in Scotland. In England, Labour’s advances were more superficial than substantial.
By the time of the 2024 general election, the political environment was primed for a massive Labour victory. The Tories had been in power for 14 years, during which time they oversaw austerity, the fallout from Brexit, and economic instability. Their mishandling of the COVID-19 pandemic, particularly the slow response and a series of contradictory policies, left the public frustrated. This, combined with well-documented corruption scandals and cronyism, especially under Boris Johnson’s leadership, severely eroded the public’s trust in the Conservative Party. Voters were irritated even more by Liz Truss and her chaotic economic policies, which led to her abrupt departure as Prime Minister, the image of a party in perpetual crisis was sealed. For many voters, the Conservative government had become synonymous with incompetence.
In Scotland, the SNP—once an insurmountable force—was unraveling. A series of high-profile scandals, including investigations into party finances, damaged their credibility. Internal divisions also weakened the party, particularly following Nicola Sturgeon’s departure and the controversial leadership of her successor, Humza Yousaf.
But these dynamics—Conservative collapse and SNP implosion—were external to Labour’s actual platform. What was clear by 2024 was that many voters were simply exhausted by the status quo. After 14 years of Conservative rule, the public's appetite for change had reached its peak. Given this context, any reasonably organised opposition could have taken advantage of such a ripe political landscape.
The truth is, Labour’s majority didn’t stem from a groundswell of support for Starmer’s centrist vision. It was the fractures within the right-wing vote, driven by Nigel Farage’s far-right Reform UK, that allowed Labour to pick up key seats without substantially increasing its own share of the electorate. Farage’s return to politics siphoned off votes from the Conservatives in crucial constituencies, particularly in the Brexit-supporting red wall, allowing Labour to win by default.
Yet the cost of Starmer’s centrist shift became clear in other constituencies, where Labour’s abandonment of progressive policies alienated core voters. The Green Party capitalised on this disillusionment, gaining traction in areas like Islington South and Bristol West, once Labour strongholds, where voters felt Starmer’s environmental platform lacked ambition. In these areas, Labour wasn’t the beneficiary of Farage’s disruption—it was bleeding support to more progressive alternatives.
Independents, too, reaped the rewards of Labour’s internal divisions. In Leicester South, independent candidate Shockat Adam defeated Labour’s Jonathan Ashworth, a high-profile shadow cabinet minister. Health Secretary Wes Streeting only narrowly held on to his Ilford North seat by just 528 votes.
Even more telling was Jeremy Corbyn’s retention of his seat in Islington North, despite Labour’s significant efforts to unseat him. Corbyn’s victory wasn’t just a win for the former Labour leader—it was a rejection of the party’s centrist drift by the very constituency that had once been a Labour bastion.
Elsewhere, Frontpageophobia benefited the Tory party. Faiza Shaheen, for example, nearly unseated Iain Duncan Smith in Chingford and Woodford Green, but her last-minute deselection from Labour, standing instead as an independent, split the vote, allowing Duncan Smith to hold on.
Labour’s electoral victory, then, was as fragile as it was resounding. It rested not on a wave of popular enthusiasm for Starmer’s platform but on frustration with an incompetent government, the vagaries of tactical voting and the fortuitous fragmentation of the right. Liberal Democrats and Green voters, in many constituencies, held their noses and voted Labour to prevent a Conservative win. But this kind of tactical alliance is tenuous, at best. One cannot rely on a campaign to ‘Get the Tories out’ when they have already been ousted. Without the vote-splitting caused by Reform UK or the collapse of the SNP, Labour’s path to a majority would have been far steeper.
Conclusion
Starmer, laughing jovially with Italy’s Giorgia Meloni, is effectively cosying up to Italy’s equivalent of Farage. In doing so, he is contributing to the normalisation of the far-right in the UK. His Frontpageophobia—this ingrained fear of negative press—has shaped not only his policies but also cost his party dearly in unity, seats, and votes. He’s not the only person to blame for Labour’s disunity, but he is the only person with the ability to reunite the party. The pressing question now is whether Starmer recognises the toll this centrist strategy has taken on Labour, and whether he can shift away from placating the right, towards the bold, progressive leadership that many of his voters are still longing for.
By seemingly endorsing right-wing and far-right policies, driven by the constant need to placate a hostile media, Starmer is inadvertently nurturing a fertile environment for the radical right to thrive in the UK. Labour is supposed to be the party of change, yet sensible managerialism that mimics conservative politics is incompatible with this vision. If he fails to offer the UK a fresh and inspiring direction, he risks ceding that very ground to the forces he appears so eager to appease.