United kingdom

It’s hard to hold anyone responsible for anything today in British politics. That’s because no sooner have the facts emerged than everybody in Westminster has played another game of musical chairs. If the word “amusing” can be used in the same paragraph as “attempted beheading” allow me one amusing example. In June, a 30-year-old asylum seeker from Sudan allegedly attempted to behead a local man on the streets of Belfast. It was apparently caught on video. Everyone was geared up to make their points. The left was preparing to argue “So you’re saying all asylum seekers are beheaders, are you?” while the right was gearing up to say: “We must hold people accountable.

When Ed Miliband and Shabana Mahmood arrived in Downing Street on July 20, the image of political rivals arm in arm symbolized a new government of differing views taking shape. It might have been more awkward. As they neared the door of No. 10 and the waiting television cameras, Miliband turned to Mahmood and asked: “Should we turn around for a photo together?” Mahmood gave the idea short shrift: “We’re not getting married, Ed!” But in a sense, Labour is seeking a new relationship with the British public – and everyone around Andy Burnham is alive to the importance of images, symbols and vibes. As Wes Streeting, the new Defense Secretary, put it in cabinet the next day: “We have a second chance to make a first impression with the voters.

Just one day after Ed Miliband was made UK Foreign Secretary we heard in the Telegraph that the White House is upset about the appointment, and even warned against it. Donald Trump is apparently unimpressed by Miliband’s role in blocking North Sea oil drilling. Miliband has also railed against Trump in the past, calling him a “racist, misogynistic self-confessed groper” on the BBC’s World at One in 2016, as an example – but in fairness his predecessor David Lammy called Trump “beneath contempt” before he became foreign secretary. Trump can forgive and forget – so long as his interlocutor is willing to forget their own pride. Miliband could bend the knee, but there is also some appetite to confront Trump.

Andy Burnham became Britain's Prime Minister today – the seventh leader of the country in the last decade. It is a case of all hail the new messiah, who promises to build “a new politics” (the eternal empty vow of every politician when taking power), but this time with a shiny new twist. Burnham, who oozes a desperate desire to be liked, will lead a government focused on good vibes and the fantasy of a mythical Labour paradise lost, rather than anything grounded in the harsh political realities of today. His approach to power boils down to trusting his instincts (those vibes, again), based on the delusion that he has a special connection with ordinary voters.

Key parts of the post-Brexit treaty that provides for a fluid border between Gibraltar and Spain will come into provisional effect today. Running to over a thousand pages, the treaty took far longer to negotiate than the entire Brexit Withdrawal Agreement. It has still to be ratified by the House of Commons and the EU parliament. The treaty effectively makes Gibraltar part of the EU’s passport-free Schengen area. Both Spain and Gibraltar were anxious to avoid long waits at the border: the 15,000 Spaniards who cross every day are half of Gibraltar’s work force and they are also an estimated 25 percent of the wage earners in the adjacent region – one of the poorest parts of Spain.

The American right has developed a morbid fascination with Britain over the past two years, particularly after Elon Musk began tweeting about grooming gangs. Some European influencers have found it lucrative to present Britain and parts of the continent as having "fallen," posting videos of crimes by immigrants and appearing on American podcast networks as weary ambassadors from broken countries to warn: "It could happen here." Yesterday The Joe Rogan Experience podcast released a two-hour interview with Rupert Lowe, leader of Britain's Restore party. Was Lowe there merely to create content – or is Restore a serious political party? Some of his statements suggest it’s the former rather than the latter. https://www.youtube.com/watch?

Watching Andy Burnham in Manchester, dressed in his T-shirt and jacket and pronouncing the return of a more old-fashioned, pro-worker left, I had a sense of déjà vu. I had seen this movie before, but with different accents. For the politician Burnham obviously resembles is not British at all – it is Joe Biden. Just like Biden, Andy Burnham’s self-image is based on the idea that those on the left are the tribunes of ordinary working people, not progressive elites. Like Joe Biden, Andy Burnham is a provincial throwback to an earlier time, just from the North West, not the Midwest. Just like Biden, Burnham rails against the "neoliberal" changes of the 1980s, which he blames for the economic problems of today.

It may not feel or sound like it but Keir Starmer is a born-again Brexiteer. His achievements in office may be nugatory, his search for a legacy tragicomic, but there are countless actions this government boasts of which simply would not have been possible if we had stayed in the EU. Earlier this year, Labour moved to protect our steel industry with a tariff package possible only because we have an independent trade policy. I was delighted this month when the minister in the Lords made it clear this was a Brexit benefit. Those same Brexit freedoms allowed the Chancellor last month to cut tariffs on more than 100 foodstuffs to ease the cost-of-living crisis.

In the decade since the vote to leave the European Union, arguably no issue has consumed more energy, column inches, political capital and careers than how to solve the problem of Northern Ireland. It was on that narrow, jagged border between North and South that the substantive skirmishes took place between the UK and EU on what their future relationship would look like. While Michel Barnier and Lord Frost arguing the toss over the finer points of agri-food regulation may lack the luster of the Battle of the Boyne or the romantic connotations of 1916, it was no less significant a moment in Northern Ireland’s history.

Ten years after the Brexit referendum, its long-term impact on British politics is evident. Not so evident is why this is the case. Every general election sees comparable debates. So too did the 1975 referendum on membership called by Harold Wilson. But none of these other elections has ever produced such an extreme and long-lasting reaction, or a concerted attempt to use both informal and formal methods – constitutional and legal – to block the result.

There was a moment backstage, before I interviewed Kemi Badenoch for a Spectator event, when I felt like John Sergeant with Margaret Thatcher bearing down on him as he pronounced her leadership in difficulty. I suggested to Badenoch that she was a rare example of a politician I had changed my mind about. “You mean you were very negative before?” she said, fixing me with the full alpha female glare. I muttered something placatory, but the truth is that a year ago I thought she was rubbish – and that was the mainstream view in her own party. She was arrogant, flat-footed, absenting herself from a stage that was being dominated by Nigel Farage, resistant to advice, convinced she was great at PMQs when even Keir Starmer was wiping the floor with her.