Nobody is quite in control of events, including the prime minister
Beneath the pageantry of a state opening of parliament, Britain's political order trembled as Prime Minister Keir Starmer fought to hold a position that had grown hollow beneath him. His authority had not been seized so much as quietly drained — by resignations, by rivals positioning themselves in the wings, and by a party uncertain of what it wanted but increasingly certain it was not this. The crisis revealed something older than any individual leader: the moment when a political project loses its animating belief, and the machinery of succession begins turning before anyone has agreed to let it.
- Starmer's grip on power is slipping not through a single dramatic blow but through a slow haemorrhage of authority, with each ministerial resignation widening the wound.
- The would-be challenger Wes Streeting failed to launch a formal bid by Tuesday night, leaving Starmer standing — but only because the rules for removing him are as unclear as the will to do so.
- Andy Burnham, the most popular alternative, is trapped outside parliament and scrambling to find a sitting MP willing to vacate a seat for him, a process that could take months he may not have.
- Angela Rayner, once a frontrunner, has stepped back under the shadow of an ongoing HMRC investigation, throwing her support behind Burnham and narrowing the field further.
- Westminster has returned to session in a state of managed chaos — nobody, including the prime minister himself, is fully in command of what happens next.
Westminster staged its ceremonial calm on Tuesday — union jacks raised, corridors cleared — but beneath the ritual, Keir Starmer was fighting for his political life. By Wednesday morning, whether he would survive remained genuinely uncertain.
The pressure to resign had grown louder through the week, yet the picture was contradictory. More than 100 Labour MPs had signed a letter opposing a leadership contest, suggesting more wanted Starmer to stay than go — but the precise number calling for his exit was unknown. What was not in doubt was that his authority had hollowed out. Starmer insisted he would not leave, and received a temporary reprieve when Health Secretary Wes Streeting failed to formally launch a challenge, lacking the 81 MP nominations required. The two were due to meet Wednesday, with the outcome uncertain.
The obstacles facing potential successors were formidable. Andy Burnham, mayor of Greater Manchester and the most popular figure among MPs and the public alike, was not a member of parliament. He would need a sitting MP to vacate a seat, win a byelection, and clear internal party hurdles — a process spanning roughly two months. On Tuesday, one MP on his wishlist publicly refused to stand down. His supporters' strategy was to slow the timeline, pushing Starmer toward announcing a departure at September's party conference.
Streeting moved faster but faced a different problem: Labour's membership, still predominantly left-leaning despite an exodus toward the Greens, was unlikely to warm to him. Angela Rayner, long rumoured as a candidate, appeared to have ruled herself out amid an ongoing HMRC investigation, backing Burnham instead. Ed Miliband and junior defence minister Al Carns hovered at the edges of a field that remained wide open.
As MPs returned to a country exhausted by political turbulence, the mechanics and timing of any contest stayed unresolved. The crisis had reached that particular stage where events outpace the people nominally directing them — and no one, least of all the prime minister, was fully in control.
Westminster held its breath on Tuesday as union jacks were hung from government buildings ahead of the state opening of parliament. The corridors were quiet, the public cordoned off. But beneath the ceremonial calm, a political hurricane was gathering force. Keir Starmer, the prime minister, was fighting for his job—and by Wednesday morning, it remained genuinely unclear whether he would keep it.
The calls for Starmer to step down, or at minimum to announce when he would leave, had grown louder through the week. Yet the picture remained murky. More than 100 Labour MPs had signed a letter opposing a leadership contest altogether, which suggested—though did not prove—that more MPs wanted Starmer to stay than wanted him gone. The precise number of those actively demanding his resignation was unknown. What was certain was that his authority had hollowed out. Each new resignation from his government was another attempt to crack his position further.
Starmer himself was insisting he would not go. He had framed himself as a serious leader for serious times, and he had received what looked like a reprieve when Wes Streeting, the health secretary and one of the most plausible challengers, failed to launch a formal leadership bid by Tuesday night. Streeting lacked the support of 81 Labour MPs required to trigger a contest. But the two men were scheduled to meet on Wednesday, and the outcome of that conversation was far from certain. For now, Starmer remained in power by default—not because his party wanted him there, but because the alternatives were complicated and the rules for removing him were unclear.
The obstacles facing any potential successor were substantial. Andy Burnham, the mayor of Greater Manchester, was widely seen as the most popular candidate among both Labour MPs and the public. He had the charisma to take on Nigel Farage and the Reform party. But Burnham was not a member of parliament. To become prime minister, he would first need to find a sitting MP willing to step down and trigger a byelection in his favor—a seat he would then have to win. His team had been searching the Greater Manchester and Liverpool areas for a volunteer. On Tuesday, Marie Rimmer, the MP for St Helens South and Whiston, whose constituency was on Burnham's wishlist, announced she would not stand down. Even if Burnham found someone willing, there was no guarantee the Labour party would allow him to run as a candidate. And even then, he would need roughly two months to get into parliament and position himself as a genuine contender. For Burnham's supporters, the strategy was to drag out the timeline—to push Starmer toward announcing a departure date at the party conference in September, giving Burnham the runway he needed.
Streeting's advantage was speed. As health secretary, he was a skilled communicator, but he was not popular with Labour party members—the people who would actually choose the next leader if a contest went to a vote. His constituency majority was wafer-thin. His relationship with Peter Mandelson was fraught. And the membership that remained in the Labour party, after many leftwing members had departed for the surging Green party, was still predominantly left-wing and socially liberal. Streeting was not their ideological choice. Yet party members had surprised observers before: they had elected Starmer in 2020 over Corbyn's chosen successor, Rebecca Long-Bailey, because they wanted to win elections. If Streeting could convince them he was the candidate most likely to do that, he still had a chance.
Angela Rayner, the former deputy prime minister, had long been rumored as a potential candidate, but a tax investigation by HMRC was still ongoing, and reports from Westminster suggested she had decided against running. Instead, she was backing Burnham. That decision meant the next Labour leader would likely remain a man—unless others stepped into the breach. Ed Miliband, who had failed to win power as Labour leader once before, remained popular with party members. Junior defence minister Al Carns, a relative unknown, might also make a bid. The field was potentially wide open.
When MPs returned to Westminster on Wednesday, they did so in chaos—in a country that had grown exhausted by political drama. The mechanics of any leadership contest were unclear. The timing was uncertain. The number of MPs actually wanting Starmer gone remained a mystery. And as one observer put it, nobody was quite in control of events anymore, including the prime minister himself.
Citas Notables
Starmer remains in charge by default— Guardian reporting on the prime minister's precarious position
The one thing that everyone knows at the moment is that nobody is quite in control of events, including the prime minister— Kiran Stacey, Guardian policy editor
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does Starmer's position feel so precarious if more MPs oppose a leadership contest than support one?
Because opposing a contest and actively supporting Starmer are not the same thing. MPs might vote against a contest simply because they fear the chaos of a transition, or because they haven't decided who they'd back instead. His authority is hollow—people are resigning, the calls for him to go are getting louder. He's standing by default, not by conviction.
So Burnham is the favorite, but he can't actually become prime minister without winning a byelection first?
Exactly. He needs an MP to voluntarily give up their seat. That's a huge ask. Even if he finds someone, he then has to win that byelection, and the party has to approve him as a candidate. It could take two months. By then, Streeting might have already moved.
And Streeting is racing against that clock?
He is. Streeting's advantage is that he's already in parliament and could move faster. His disadvantage is that party members don't like him much. He's betting he can convince them he's the only one who can win a general election.
What happens if nobody can get 81 MPs to back them?
Then Starmer probably survives, at least for now. But that doesn't mean he's secure. The pressure just builds again. It's a slow strangulation rather than a quick coup.
Is there any scenario where this ends cleanly?
Not really. Even if Starmer announces he'll leave in September, that's four months of a wounded prime minister trying to govern. If a challenger emerges and forces a contest, the party tears itself apart choosing a successor. There's no good outcome here—just different flavors of bad.
And the public is watching all of this?
The public is exhausted by it. This is the third or fourth time in a few years that Westminster has descended into leadership chaos. People are tired of the drama. They want government to actually do something.