When Downing Street Becomes an Ejector Seat

Politics

By Vijay Makhan

For much of modern British history, entry into 10 Downing Street was associated with authority, continuity and longevity. Prime Ministers expected to govern for years, sometimes for a decade or more. Governments rose and fell, but the office itself conveyed a sense of permanence and stability that reflected the strength of Britain’s political institutions.

Today, however, the famous No. 10-embedded door appears increasingly attached to an ejector seat.

Keir Starmer’s departure marks yet another chapter in a remarkable period of political instability. Within a single decade, Britain has been served by seven Prime Ministers since 2010. David Cameron resigned following the Brexit referendum, and Theresa May fell victim to the divisions it unleashed. Boris Johnson was brought down by scandal and internal revolt, while Liz Truss lasted barely six weeks before financial markets effectively rendered their verdict. Rishi Sunak was swept away by electoral defeat. Keir Starmer has now joined a growing list of leaders who have discovered that political survival in contemporary Britain has become an increasingly difficult undertaking.

Keir Starmer. Pic – The New Yorker

The question is not simply why Starmer fell. It is whether Britain itself has entered a new political era in which governing has become inherently more difficult and political longevity increasingly elusive. To attribute Starmer’s downfall solely to his own decisions would be too simplistic. To portray him as merely a victim of circumstance would be equally misleading.

To be fair, Starmer brought a measure of seriousness and discipline back to government. His administration sought to restore stability after years of turbulence. It attempted to rebuild relations with European partners without reopening the divisive Brexit debate. It sought to tackle NHS waiting lists, tighten aspects of immigration policy and restore confidence in Britain’s institutions. On foreign policy, he often projected a steadier and more predictable image of Britain than had been evident during much of the preceding decade.

And he wasn’t entirely devoid of political courage. At a time when many leaders preferred accommodation, Starmer occasionally demonstrated a willingness to differ publicly from President Trump. Under his leadership, Britain tried to re-establish constructive engagement with key partners.

But, politics is an examination of outcomes, not of effort.

Many of the challenges confronting Britain predated Starmer’s arrival in office. Weak economic growth, stagnant living standards, housing shortages, pressures on public services, regional disparities and the lingering consequences of Brexit had accumulated over many years. And expectations had become high.

Starmer entered office carrying the hopes of voters who expected relief after fourteen years of Conservative rule. Many anticipated rapid and visible change. Incremental improvements that might once have been considered respectable achievements were judged against expectations of transformation. The gap between aspiration and perception became increasingly difficult to bridge.

There was also the question of political management. It is said that Starmer’s refusal to facilitate Andy Burnham’s return to the Commons in the January by-election directly contributed to his downfall. This is debatable. But one has to admit there is a symbolism attached to it.

Andy Burnham occupies a unique position within British politics. As Mayor of Greater Manchester, he built an independent electoral base and a political identity distinct from Westminster. He embodies a broader trend that has been quietly reshaping British politics — the growing influence of regional leaders whose legitimacy derives directly from voters rather than from party hierarchies.

Starmer would not have been the first Prime Minister to seek to contain an ambitious colleague. What may have appeared prudent to some was interpreted by others as evidence of excessive caution or insecurity.

My own take is that if the Burnham episode proved significant, it was not because it caused Starmer’s downfall. Rather, it exposed underlying tensions within the Labour rank and file about leadership, and party direction. That said, focusing exclusively on Labour risks missing the larger story.

The deeper reality is that Britain is still living through the aftershocks of Brexit.

The 2016 referendum was not merely a vote on membership of the European Union. It represented a profound rupture in British politics. It exposed divisions between regions, generations, educational backgrounds and social classes. It challenged assumptions about Britain’s place in the world. It fractured traditional party loyalties and accelerated the decline of political identities that had endured for decades.

Brexit was Britain’s equivalent of a political earthquake. While the immediate shock has passed, the aftershocks continue to reverberate through the political system.

The traditional two-party model has become less stable. Electoral loyalties are more fluid. Voters are more willing to switch allegiances from one election to another. Political parties themselves have become less cohesive entities, with factions that often disagree on fundamental questions.

The result? A more fragmented volatile political landscape. Also, British politics seems to have undergone a process of “presidentialisation” of parliamentary government.

Prime Ministers increasingly dominate election campaigns. Political contests are framed around personalities rather than programmes. Expectations are concentrated on a single individual. Successes are personalised. Failures are personalised even more quickly.

The paradox is striking. Prime Ministers exercise near-presidential authority but possess none of the constitutional security enjoyed by presidents. Their tenure depends on the electorate but also on the confidence of parliamentary colleagues who can turn against them with remarkable speed. The experiences of Theresa May, Boris Johnson, Liz Truss and now Starmer illustrate this contradiction.

The transformation of the media environment is also a factor. Up to recently, governments sailed through relatively predictable news cycles. Today, political leaders operate within a relentless twenty-four-hour information ecosystem dominated by social media, instantaneous commentary and permanent scrutiny. Every policy announcement is subjected to immediate judgement. Every error is amplified. Every setback becomes a potential crisis.

Political time itself has accelerated. Governments once had years to show results. They are now often expected to deliver within months. Time was when Clement Attlee had six years to construct the foundations of the modern welfare state. Margaret Thatcher governed for over a decade, fundamentally reshaping the British economy. Tony Blair enjoyed ten years in office and transformed public services while redefining Labour’s political identity. Even David Cameron governed for six years before Brexit brought his premiership to an abrupt conclusion.

Is political longevity becoming exceptional? Hence the question: is Britain experiencing a crisis of governability rather than a crisis of leadership?

This is not the first time Britain has faced political turbulence. The nineteenth century witnessed frequent changes of government. The inter-war years brought economic hardship and political uncertainty. But a broad confidence in institutions prevailed and a belief that governments possessed the time and authority necessary to address national challenges.

That confidence appears increasingly fragile. The consequence is a political culture that often resembles permanent campaigning rather than sustained governance. Leaders are elevated rapidly, arising out of promises made but burdened by high expectations and discarded when those expectations inevitably collide with reality.

From this perspective, Starmer’s downfall is less an isolated event than part of a wider pattern. His departure reflects the growing difficulty of governing a society that is more fragmented, more impatient and more polarised than at any time in recent decades. It reflects the weakening of traditional party loyalties, the rise of regional political identities, the consequences of Brexit, the acceleration of political life through technology and the increasing tendency to personalise political success and failure.

The revolving door at Downing Street is therefore not simply a succession of individual failures. It may be evidence of a deeper structural malaise within British politics itself.

Is the challenge confronting Britain merely one to find another Prime Minister? Or is it to rediscover the political conditions that allow governments to govern, leaders to lead and institutions to command confidence?

Until that happens, the black door of Number 10 may continue to open as frequently for departures as it does for arrivals. And the office that once symbolised stability may increasingly resemble what many now fear it has become—an ejector seat at the centre of British politics.

Back to Mauritius… follow my gaze.

Mauritius Times ePaper Friday 26 June 2026