Honestly, is there some sort of unwritten rule that says that every time the Left gets vaguely near unity, someone must immediately chuck in a custard pie of ideological self-sabotage? A sort of Bat-Signal goes up over Westminster, and before you know it, there’s another furious email, a hastily deleted tweet, and a party launch that looks like it was organised by people who’d struggle to coordinate a pub quiz, let alone a political movement.
So, “Your Party” – because of course it’s called that, presumably to save time when blame is being allocated – has chaotically burst onto the scene like a very earnest clown car. One minute, it’s a rumour; the next, it’s launched without its supposed founder being told. And then, within a day, Jeremy Corbyn goes from “furious and bewildered” (I can’t remember a time in my life when he hasn’t been those two things) to issuing a statement welcoming it all, with the oblivious detachment of a man who’s just realised his phone was on silent.
Then, to outshine his secondary school drama performance, Zarah Sultana decides to send out a membership email to the mailing list without telling her co-founders – one of whom is, yes, Jeremy Corbyn, whom Zarah would describe as the “old boys’ club” ring leader. Said club would include co-founder Corbyn himself, Adnan Hussain, Ayoub Khan, and a few more from their consistently bewildered brigade.
Yet it does feel as if the Left spends more time arguing with itself than actually getting anything done. In an ideal world, they would finally be putting all their ideological superiority to good use. Is it because they are too honest and transparent? Or does this most recent argument further solidify the opinion that seemingly every politician is completely inept at doing the job we so desperately need them to do?
What is needed is ideological unity. Why do our career politicians find it so challenging to quickly glance at the bigger picture?
And yet the maddening thing is, when the Right does this sort of thing, I don’t feel as painfully disappointed. When Suella Braverman torpedoed her own leadership prospects via an opinion column that read like it was written after a heavy night, or when Reform starts another punch-up in the comments section of their own website, it feels like typical chaotic evil. But when the Left does it? It’s chaos in the name of ideological purity. Which somehow feels even worse.
Is it the Murdoch media whispering in my ears? Perhaps. Or is it simply the last decade of political pantomime that has conditioned us to see Left-wing infighting as some sort of national pastime – like complaining about train times, or assuming the Green Party is just a vibe.
Of course, the grand tradition of past and present left-of-centre parties in this country is to form a circle and begin the firing squad at any whiff of dissent. And if the ammunition runs out, simply ignore it and hope it goes away. “Your Party” could have been a breath of fresh air – instead, it’s stumbled at the first hurdle.
Meanwhile, Sir Keir Starmer continues his slow-motion impersonation of a biro left in the sun. It’s all very “strong and stable” – but only if you’re comparing him to a moderately competent office filing cabinet. Every time he opens his tightly pursed lips, Labour haemorrhages votes to the Greens, Reform, Lib Dems, or anyone within a three-mile radius of Whitehall offering something that sounds remotely like a plan.
Labour is also trailing Reform in the opinion polls, indicating potential losses in the Welsh Senedd and local elections in May next year. And of course, this week especially, Keir is feeling the tingling sensation of coals underneath his feet. One could argue they’re Andy Burnham-shaped. Maybe the Mayor of Greater Manchester isn’t as seemingly tepid as Keir Starmer, but he’s yet to seem hot enough to fix Britain’s ever-growing problems. None of his proposals thus far – bit of nationalisation and some wealth taxes – touch the sides of them. But Burnham looms large, with soundbites like “narrow and shallow” when describing his very own party. Although, let’s not pretend being Mayor of Greater Manchester is quite the crucible of national salvation, yet.
And let’s not talk about the Lib Dems. Every time Ed Davey attempts another stunt – jet-skiing for clean air, zip-lining for affordable housing – it distances him from being taken remotely seriously, and instead places him in the slandering eyeline of every other political party wanting to heighten their chances come 2029.
And yet, somewhere off in the quiet corners of the political wilderness, Zack Polanski, the fresh face of the Greens, is… just doing the job? Calmly? Sensibly? Not screaming across Newsnight or getting metaphorically clobbered by his own deputy? Honestly, it’s a bizarre sensation. Where’s the unnecessary drama? Where’s the unhelpful backstabbing? If we’re not watching the Greens implode online, what are we even doing here?
The truth is, the Left’s inability to stop eating itself is no longer quirky or even especially tragic – its just boring. When the stakes have risen; and far right no longer whispers from the shadows—they cling to lamposts, and have far surpassed just chomping at our heels in the polls, we watch, disheartened, as another bright spark of socialist promise flickers out in a gust of clumsy words and battles dressed as blueprints. It would be comic, if it weren’t so heartbreakingly familiar.
So maybe the question isn’t “Why can’t the Left agree?” Maybe it’s “Why do we keep expecting them to?”
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