Hating Starmer became a cultural phenomenon, not a political one.
In less than two years, Sir Keir Starmer moved from a landslide victory that ended fourteen years of Conservative rule to a resignation that few could have predicted on that jubilant July afternoon in 2024. His fall was not simply the story of one leader's missteps, but a symptom of something older and deeper — a Britain still fractured by Brexit, hollowed by a decade and a half of stagnant wages, and governed by a media and social landscape that converts mistakes into crises before the ink of policy has dried. The last five prime ministers have each broken the previous one's record for unpopularity, a pattern that points less to personal failure than to a political system under extraordinary and perhaps unprecedented strain.
- Starmer's approval ratings collapsed within weeks of taking office after he cut winter fuel payments to elderly Britons, a single decision that calcified public contempt before his government had found its footing.
- Controversy compounded controversy — a deputy's resignation, an Epstein-linked ambassador, a tone-deaf phrase about 'an island of strangers' — each one feeding a media environment designed to accelerate, not absorb, political damage.
- Labour MPs in marginal seats, facing catastrophic local election results, concluded that removing Starmer was the only circuit breaker available before the next general election, and the internal pressure became irresistible.
- Analysts point to Brexit's unresolved fracturing of British politics, the rise of Reform and the Greens, and fifteen years of wage stagnation as the structural forces that have made the prime ministership itself a poisoned chalice.
- Andy Burnham now inherits a governing landscape where social media compresses political time, voter patience is near zero, and the question is not whether Britain can be governed, but whether any leader can move fast enough to survive doing so.
On a sunny Wednesday in July 2024, Labour staffers raised pints at The Red Lion pub across from Downing Street, celebrating what felt like a political resurrection. After fourteen years in opposition, the party had won a landslide. Sir Keir Starmer stood at Number 10 promising to end the chaos. The optimism would not survive the month.
The first wound was self-inflicted: a decision to cut the universal winter fuel allowance for elderly Britons sent his approval ratings into freefall, some polls recording a 45-point collapse. He later reversed parts of the policy, but the damage had set. What followed was a cascade — a deputy's resignation over stamp duty questions, an unexplained Epstein associate installed as US ambassador, and a phrase about Britain becoming 'an island of strangers' that alienated as many as it was meant to reassure. Less than two years after his victory, Starmer resigned. He will be replaced by Andy Burnham, the former Mayor of Greater Manchester.
What struck observers was not the failure itself but its ferocity. A close friend and former advisor, Tom Baldwyn, noted that Starmer had kept Britain out of wars, avoided financial scandal, and delivered real policy — expanded childcare, reduced net immigration, new rights for renters. None of it registered. Baldwyn pointed to a pattern that transcended any single leader: the last five prime ministers have each been more unpopular than the one before, a sequence he attributed to deep structural unhappiness rooted in inequality, regional division, and generational fracture.
Catherine Haddon of the Institute of Government traced much of the volatility to the 2016 Brexit referendum, which shattered the two-party landscape and created space for Nigel Farage's Reform Party and an emboldened Green movement. The terrain had become more fragmented and far less forgiving. Labour MPs in marginal seats, battered by disastrous local election results in May, came to see removing Starmer as the only available reset before the next election. Catherine West, an Australian-born MP in north London, was among the first to publicly call for his resignation.
Phillip Collins, a former Blair speechwriter, identified the media environment as a structural accelerant — Britain's famously savage press combined with a cost-of-living crisis and social media's capacity to turn any misstep into an overnight catastrophe. 'Change takes longer than two years,' he said, 'and it will now — that hasn't altered.' Haddon agreed that prime ministers were now afforded almost no grace period, but resisted the conclusion that Britain had become ungovernable. 'It just means you've got to really try hard,' she said.
When Starmer had first stood outside Number 10, he warned that change was 'not like flicking a switch.' His calls for patience went unheeded. Two years later, he stood at the same spot to announce his resignation. Across the road, Labour staffers were back at The Red Lion, pints in hand. The sun was still shining. The optimism was gone entirely.
On a sunny Wednesday in July 2024, Labour staffers crowded into The Red Lion pub across from Downing Street, raising pints to celebrate what felt like a political resurrection. After fourteen years in opposition, the party had won a landslide election. Sir Keir Starmer, only the fifth Labour leader to take his party from the wilderness back to government, stood at Number 10 promising to "end the chaos" that had consumed the Conservative Party in its final years. The optimism was palpable. It would not survive the month.
Within weeks of taking office, Starmer's approval ratings collapsed. The trigger was a decision to cut the universal winter fuel allowance—a payment given to elderly Britons to help with heating costs during winter. Some polls showed his popularity had fallen by 45 percent. He later walked back parts of the policy, but the damage had calcified. More controversies followed in quick succession. He was accused of appeasing conservatives when he warned that "Britain risks becoming an island of strangers." His deputy, Angela Rayner, resigned in September over questions about stamp duty on an investment property. He struggled to explain how a close associate of Jeffrey Epstein had become the UK's ambassador to the United States. His polling numbers kept falling. On Monday, less than two years after his victory lap, Starmer resigned. He would be replaced by Andy Burnham, a veteran Labour politician and former Mayor of Greater Manchester.
What made Starmer's collapse remarkable was not that he had failed—it was the sheer intensity of the public hatred directed at him. Tom Baldwyn, a friend and former advisor, found himself baffled by the vitriol. Starmer had kept Britain out of wars, had not crashed the economy, had not presided over the kind of financial scandals or law-breaking that had marked previous administrations. Yet the contempt felt almost cultural. Baldwyn acknowledged the prime minister had made errors of judgment and possessed a communication style that could be frustratingly dour. But he could not square those missteps with the level of animosity voters seemed to harbor. "The last five prime ministers have actually been the five most unpopular prime ministers in polling history," Baldwyn told the ABC, "and according to some polls, each of them has broken the previous one's record for unpopularity. I think that suggests there's something else going on in our country—whether it's deep unhappiness and inequality, both through class, through regions, through generations."
Starmer's government had, in fact, implemented consequential policy. In less than two years, they had expanded free childcare, drastically reduced net immigration, and provided new rights to renters. None of it seemed to matter to a public that had made hating the prime minister into something approaching a national pastime. Catherine Haddon, a senior fellow at the Institute of Government, traced much of the instability back to the 2016 Brexit referendum. The vote to leave the European Union had fractured British politics in ways the major parties had never fully reckoned with. Nigel Farage's right-wing Reform Party had emerged as a genuine political force, while the Green Party had also grown. The landscape had become more volatile, more fragmented, and far less forgiving. "There's no denying that British politics is going through a very tumultuous period," Haddon said. "The last decade has seen very volatile politics and a very difficult environment for any prime minister. They're not given much patience."
For Labour MPs, particularly those in marginal seats, the bad polling and disastrous local election results in May had become unbearable. Dumping Starmer began to look like a circuit breaker—a way to reset before the next election. Catherine West, an Australian-born Labour MP in north London, became one of the first in her party to publicly call for Starmer's resignation, saying she needed to "pivot to street-fighter mode to take on Reform." Haddon observed that politicians had struggled to navigate the new, fractured terrain. "Brexit was such a shock to the political system that the two big parties have really struggled to think about how to respond to what that says about UK voters, about what they want, about the changing nature of our society," she said. Farage, she noted, had proven to be a masterful media operator, able to position himself as an insurgent outsider railing against Westminster, a posture far easier to maintain from opposition than from government.
Phillip Collins, a former speechwriter for Tony Blair, identified another structural problem: the media environment itself had become a accelerant. Britain's press, world-renowned for its savagery, combined with an electorate dealing with a cost-of-living crisis, had created a governing environment that was almost deliberately hostile. "We are becoming increasingly impatient, journalists, media, the stories are so fast now, and certainly the public has become impatient, the politics is quicker and harder than it has ever been before," Collins told the BBC. "Change takes longer than two years, and it will now, that hasn't altered." He called the prime ministership a poisoned chalice. "If you've got a country where people haven't had a pay rise in 15 years, that is going to be a country where politics is turbulent," he said. Haddon agreed that prime ministers were now afforded almost no grace period to learn on the job. Social media had accelerated everything—the speed of response, the way issues could suddenly metastasize into political crises overnight. Yet she pushed back against the notion that Britain had become ungovernable. "Just because it's a challenging environment to govern, it doesn't mean that it is impossible to do so. It just means that you've got to really try hard," she said.
When Starmer had stood outside Number 10 on that July afternoon in 2024, he had warned that change was "not like flicking a switch; this will take a while." His calls for patience went unheeded. Less than two years later, he was back at the same location, announcing his resignation. Across the road, Labour staffers were back at The Red Lion, sipping pints in the sun. But the optimism that had filled the air two years earlier had evaporated entirely.
Notable Quotes
The last five prime ministers have been the five most unpopular prime ministers in polling history, and each has broken the previous one's record for unpopularity. I think that suggests there's something else going on in our country—deep unhappiness and inequality.— Tom Baldwyn, friend and former advisor to Starmer
If you've got a country where people haven't had a pay rise in 15 years, that is going to be a country where politics is turbulent.— Phillip Collins, former speechwriter for Tony Blair
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did Starmer's popularity collapse so quickly when he'd actually passed significant legislation?
Because governing in modern Britain means you're immediately perceived as part of the establishment, and the establishment is what people are angry at. The winter fuel allowance cut was just the match. The fire was already there.
But the last five prime ministers have all been historically unpopular. Doesn't that suggest the problem isn't Starmer specifically?
Exactly. It suggests the problem is structural. Brexit fractured the country into pieces that don't fit back together. The media moves faster than policy can. People haven't had a real pay rise in fifteen years. Any prime minister walking into that is walking into a trap.
So is Britain ungovernable?
No. But it requires a kind of governing that almost no one is willing to do anymore—the kind that doesn't promise quick fixes, that asks for patience, that accepts you'll be hated while you work. Starmer tried that. It didn't work.
Why did his own MPs turn on him?
They were spooked. Bad local election results, terrible polling, and they could see the next general election coming. Dumping him felt like the only way to reset. It's a rational calculation in an irrational environment.
What does Burnham inherit?
The same impossible situation. A fractured electorate, a media that feeds on chaos, and a public that's learned to hate prime ministers as a cultural habit. He'll have maybe six months before the same machinery turns on him.