The new president, an ex-prosecutor with an unremarkable record and a series of questionable decisions, managed to secure the highest office in a politically charged environment. He conducted a negative campaign that not only highlighted the personal flaws of his opponent but also effectively concealed his own underwhelming achievements. Entering the political arena later in life, he climbed to a mid-tier position primarily through personal connections, ultimately seizing his party’s nomination in what many considered a political coup. Positioned as a mere placeholder, he was thrust forward by mysterious financial backers who disregarded the wishes of grassroots party members. Lacking charisma, he presented a personality devoid of warmth or charm, functioning instead as a negative void. His only notable political skill seemed to be his flexibility in changing his stance on policies, seemingly at will. Although he was set to remain in office for several years, the potential consequences of his leadership could either transform the nation dramatically or lead it down a perilous path.
None of his close advisers had ever triumphed in securing an election victory. Most affiliated with him hailed from either the publicity-averse sectors where promoting oneself is key or industries that shunned public scrutiny. They operated in the shadows, offering advice that remained confidential or serving as media managers completely removed from the spotlight. Among them were friends who had connections in fundraising but preferred to remain silent on matters of public discourse.
The new government seemed eager to resume its agenda after taking power. However, it soon became apparent that it struggled to gain any significant momentum. The federal bureaucracy, which had previously upheld a facade of neutrality, had shifted to actively support the administration’s objectives, but even this support failed to yield positive outcomes. The government boasted policies covering an array of topics, particularly those it favored: gender issues, racial equality, colonial history, and rectifying past injustices. Surprisingly, it often found itself with dual policy approaches—one leaning towards technocratic liberalism and the other veering into utopian socialism—due to a significant disconnect between its leadership, membership, and media allies. The solitary consensus among these disparate groups was the belief that all societal issues were inherently political, suggesting that every injustice could be remedied through policy adjustments and increased public expenditure.
Despite myriad policy proposals, none managed to coalesce into coherent political action. A striking aspect of the president’s candidacy lay in his dual portrayal: he was simultaneously a champion for continuity, promising to restore a semblance of “normalcy,” while also marketing himself as an agent of transformative “change.” His true beliefs remained obscured, leaving many perplexed. It appeared his reasoning might align more with political pragmatism rather than genuine democratic values, operating under a bureaucratic mentality that necessitated overriding public dissent in the name of collective welfare or re-educating the populace to abandon their sentimental attachments to established constitutional traditions. His apparent indecisiveness and the broader decline of critical political thought in contemporary society may have directed him toward a shallow ambition, epitomizing the pursuit of power without purpose, although he lacked the calculating savvy characteristic of Machiavellian figures.
Market analysts quickly recognized the signs of trouble and began betting against his economic strategies. Global players, such as China and Russia, were quick to adapt, with China gradually pushing the U.S. influence out of Eurasia. Meanwhile, escalations from Russia regarding the war in Ukraine intensified. Iranian forces surrounded Israel and relentlessly launched attacks on American naval vessels stationed in the Red Sea. Human traffickers and drug cartels capitalized on an open border, and law enforcement expressed doubts regarding the government’s support for their efforts. Radical groups perceived the administration’s reliance on them and continued to infiltrate federal institutions.
This scenario illustrated a misguided notion of continuity. Even many individuals who had initially supported the president found it increasingly difficult to accept the embers of disarray at home and an ever-looming threat of conflict abroad as their new normal. Voters, who had cast their ballots in haste, now prepared themselves for an extended period characterized by economic decline, surging crime rates, racial unrest, porous borders, and rampant radicalism infiltrating education systems. By his hundredth day in office, the president recorded the most dismal approval ratings witnessed to date. Once an authoritarian figure, he now appeared devoid of authority, showing signs of distress as he faced the cameras, struggling to establish meaningful connections or articulate his policies effectively.
The dismal state of affairs prompted the government to intensify its efforts to stifle “disinformation” and undermine social media independence, particularly targeting platforms like X. The administration, adept at understanding the motivations behind crimes committed by illegal immigrants, struggled to comprehend why high-profile figures like Elon Musk would challenge their authority. Over the ensuing four years, the president cemented his legacy as the individual who curtailed free speech indefinitely.
Promises, promises
The person personifying this tumultuous political landscape is not Kamala Harris but rather Sir Keir Starmer, the leader of the Labour Party, who ascended to the position of Prime Minister in July. Strikingly similar to Harris, both individuals are ex-prosecutors imposed upon their respective parties contrary to the desires of the membership. They share a common lack of charisma and possess no qualms about opportunistically changing their stances. Alarmingly, neither seems willing to affirm the biological reality of two sexes or acknowledge the undeniable fact that a state incapable of securing its borders is jeopardizing its very existence as a nation.
This lack of concern exemplifies their anti-democratic tendencies, excluding the will of the people from the governing equation. Emblematic of post-national politics, they derive legitimacy from international institutions rather than the democratic mandate of the populace. Struggling to articulate their views effectively, Harris often engages in obfuscating rhetoric, while Starmer recently garnered attention for his baffling statement during a Labour conference, where he implored Hamas to “free the sausages.” His controversial remarks also included calls for Israel to cease its fight for survival. Both leaders preside over parties perceived as conduits for the Islamist agenda seeking to marginalize Jewish voices and systematically isolate Israel as a prelude to its potential downfall.
Harris and Starmer represent a brand of liberal authoritarianism: they promote a narrow range of approved lifestyles, while employing authoritarian measures to quash dissenting opinions or behaviors. Swayed by pressures from “activist” allies, including radical activists and academia’s elite, they appear eager to cave in and suppress alternative perspectives. Their backgrounds have shielded them from diverse viewpoints, culminating in a conviction that all political conversations have been conclusively settled, including the narrative of their personal involvement in societal injustices. Any opposing arguments are swiftly labeled as “far-right,” “racist,” or criticized for being “transphobic” and “Islamophobic.”
To fathom the trajectory of U.S. governance under a hypothetical Harris administration, one need only examine the chaotic early months of Starmer’s term. By late October, a YouGov poll revealed a staggering decline in Starmer’s approval rating, plummeting by 47 points to just 34%. The rapid drop marked the most significant decline in public favor experienced by an elected Prime Minister within their initial 100 days in four decades. Even Rishi Sunak, the Conservative leader defeated by Starmer last summer, fared better during this period, with only Liz Truss, a short-lived unelected predecessor, experiencing greater unpopularity.
Starmer’s support has dwindled most dramatically among those who initially propelled him to victory in July. Among Labour supporters, approval sunk from a striking 77% after the election down to a mere 27%. This staggering case of buyer’s remorse stands as the most pronounced in British electoral history, drawing parallels to political regret previously unseen. Ironically, Sunak, who had overseen the Conservative government’s debt-to-GDP ratio soaring to nearly 100% during his tenure as Chancellor, has experienced a slight uptick in public perception since his electoral defeat.
Although Sunak may have exhausted financial resources on COVID-19 relief, he exhibited a clearer understanding of fiscal management than Starmer’s administration. Regular surveys, notably the Economic Optimism Index, revealed a 21% decline in confidence regarding Starmer’s economic stewardship since July. David Cameron remains the only Prime Minister over the past quarter-century to instill less confidence; his Conservative administration had imposed austerity measures following the fiscal crises of 2007-08. Now, Starmer and his team seem to embrace a similar opportunistic defense.
The upheaval caused by COVID-19 lockdowns disrupted global supply chains and led to extensive monetary policy that significantly inflated national debts worldwide. As many governments adopted measured fiscal tightening paired with inflation control, the U.S. deviated, continuing its penchant for unchecked borrowing. Starmer encountered the repercussions of this economic roller coaster particularly acutely, given that Britain’s finance ministers must navigate the delicate balance of their currency against both the U.S. dollar and the euro, each subject to instability at different intervals.
Labour’s campaign had centered on the claim that its spending plans were meticulously budgeted, negating the need for any tax increases. However, post-election revelations by Starmer unveiled a purported £22 billion “black hole” in public finances attributed to Conservative overspending, which the independent Office for Budget Responsibility later assessed at £9.5 billion. On October 30, Chancellor Rachel Reeves rolled out the most aggressive tax-raising budget since 1970, targeting a staggering £40 billion from the private sector—a stark contrast to the Conservatives’ previous austerity plan aimed at raising £14.9 billion in revenues.
The government, seemingly committed to representing “working people,” instituted higher employment and income taxes, acknowledging that these measures would stifle business profitability and wage growth. Displaying a striking lack of compassion, it reduced winter fuel subsidies for the elderly and imposed a 20% sales tax on private school fees, punishing those who strive for economic success and prudence. Despite these burdens, the government jumpstarted departmental expenditure limits for 2024-25 with an additional £23 billion. The OBR has predicted that these financial maneuvers will only facilitate a meager 2% economic growth in 2025, followed by inevitable declines thereafter.
Much like the Democrats, Labour views private enterprise as a mere cash source for an ever-increasing public sector. This misconception threatens to suffocate private innovation, which mirrors the realities of a golden goose. With an insatiable appetite for corporatism and clientism, the Labour government has betrayed the promises made to voters, instead pledging allegiance to high taxes, expansive spending, and stagnated growth. The worker-class individuals, already grappling with the ramifications of previous Labour policies, now face a bleak future reminiscent of a potential Harris administration’s failures.
Two-tier keir
Britain’s prison system overflows for a pressing reason that parallels the nation’s energy shortfalls: successive administrations failed to meet growing demands effectively. Labour’s solutions to the energy crisis come in the form of a meager imitation of the Democrats’ Green New Deal. Faced with overcrowded jails, Labour opted to lower the threshold for parole eligibility. Consequently, offenders such as domestic abusers and even convicted accomplices of murder have been granted early release.
“I’m a lifelong Labour voter now!” proclaimed Djaber Benallaoua, a young drug dealer, expressing his gratitude for his early release to the Daily Mail. When questioned about his future, he declared, “I’m gonna get lit.” In a similar vein, Daniel Rutuls, a 19-year-old with a history of aggravated burglary, also professed his newfound loyalty to Labour, commending Starmer for implementing “a smart decision” that created more space in prisons.
Certainly, those spaces have not gone unoccupied. On July 29, in the northern town of Southport, an individual perpetrated a horrific attack, murdering three young girls and injuring ten others—many of whom were also children—during a stabbing incident at a Taylor Swift-themed event. Protests and riots erupted in response, spreading nationwide. Starmer wasted no time in attributing the unrest to “far-right” elements. His administration called for maximum penalties on those accused of disseminating “disinformation” regarding the attacker’s background, specifically targeting discussions surrounding his identity as a Muslim or an immigrant, regardless of legal status. Police, having identified the suspect as “Welsh,” subsequently revealed that he was Axel Rudakubana, the child of Rwandan immigrants, all while the media emphasized Rwanda’s predominantly Christian demographic.
The day preceding Chancellor Reeves’s budget announcement, police revealed that Rudakubana was facing charges related to possessing an al-Qaeda manual and producing ricin, a highly lethal chemical weapon. Thus, speculation regarding possible Islamist motivations proved grounded. Whether or not Starmer and his Cabinet were informed about the suspect’s extensive terrorist connections remains questionable; if they were privy to this information and opted to withhold it from the public, that would constitute an egregious scandal.
A political party that frames its governance through the lens of “allies” and adversaries risks establishing a two-tiered justice system. This bias will become so glaringly unethical that public dissent is inevitable. In response, the government is likely to resort to censorship, stifling free speech while employing harsh penalties to silence law-abiding citizens, all while indulging its preferred factions. Blame will be redirected towards victims, deflecting scrutiny from its actions, while fabricating narratives surrounding the “far-right” and “fascism” to justify further repression. The British populace has unwittingly embraced another four years of this oppressive regime and now finds itself in a regrettable position, grappling with the consequences largely in silence to avoid potential persecution. Americans, however, still possess the opportunity to choose a divergent path.
Dominic Green is a Washington Examiner columnist and a fellow of the Royal Historical Society. Find him on X @drdominicgreen.
Stituted the label to portray him as a local rather than addressing the nuances of his background, which had become areas of contention in public discourse.
In this climate of turmoil, Starmer’s leadership faced escalating pressures. His approach to tackling crime—particularly violent crime—was criticized as ineffective, leading to accusations of negligence amidst rising public safety concerns. The incidents of violence, such as the Southport tragedy, exacerbated fears about social cohesion and the government’s ability to maintain law and order.
As protests erupted in response to these events, demanding accountability and a reevaluation of government policies, Starmer’s administration fell back on a familiar tactic: deflection. Instead of addressing the root causes of crime and social unrest, he sought to categorize dissent as extremist or “far-right,” an attempt to consolidate power by sidelining legitimate grievances. This strategy resonated poorly with many constituents who felt their concerns were being trivialized and ignored, prompting a further decline in public sentiment.
Public discontent grew as the Labour government struggled with its foundational promises of safety, economic stability, and social justice. Many began to question the efficacy of Starmer’s policies, and whether they had merely inherited the chaotic legacy of previous administrations, rather than offering substantive and innovative solutions. The fear of rising crime rates, coupled with economic anxiety, pushed voters toward skepticism regarding their leadership.
Amidst this backdrop, the Labour narrative of progressiveness began to falter. Starmer’s past as a prosecutor, once seen as a credential, became a liability as critics began to scrutinize his record on civil liberties and his approach to law enforcement. The perception that he was soft on crime while simultaneously failing to uphold democratic principles alienated both traditional Labour supporters and centrist voters who valued a balanced approach to governance.
Starmer’s efforts to present a united front became increasingly paradoxical. He attempted to bridge the gap with various constituencies but often found himself alienating others. The rhetoric of inclusion, which was central to his campaign, morphed into accusations of exclusion when his administration failed to listen to dissenting views. The fluidity of his positions, much like that of Harris, prompted accusations of opportunism and insincerity.
As the 2024 elections approached, the specter of instability haunted the Labour Party. Polling suggested a growing disenchantment with Starmer’s leadership, with many voters expressing interest in alternative parties that promised a return to traditional values and greater accountability. The potential loss of key constituencies compounded worries that a swing back to the Conservatives was becoming increasingly viable, driven by a coalition of disillusioned Labour voters and conservatives dissatisfied with the current trajectory.
In sum, the intertwining crises of governance in both the U.S. and the UK mirrored each other—a reflection of broader trends affecting democracies worldwide. Both Harris and Starmer appeared to struggle under the weight of their policies, grappling with the consequences of a disconnect between leadership and the electorate’s needs. Their journeys illustrated the dangers of a disenchanted populace facing escalating turmoil, potentially paving the way for upheaval, change, and a quest for more responsible and relatable governance in the years to come.
