Starmer's Liaison Committee Grilling: A Masterclass in Political Evasion
Keir Starmer faces MPs in marathon liaison committee session

Prime Minister Keir Starmer faced a gruelling session of questions from the powerful liaison committee in the House of Commons this week, in what is a tri-annual ritual for the UK's leader. The marathon hearing, chaired by Labour's Meg Hillier, was characterised by lengthy procedural debates and a distinct lack of headline-grabbing announcements, leaving some observers questioning the value of the exercise.

A Session Defined by Process Over Substance

The atmosphere in the committee room was one of weary endurance. For the select committee chairs who make up the liaison 'super-committee', attendance was mandatory, a constitutional fixture they could not avoid. The goal for Sir Keir, as with many premiers before him, appeared to be one of damage limitation: to emerge having committed to nothing new and created no unwanted news.

The session began with a focus on standards in public life, a topic which seemed to animate the Prime Minister. Conservative MP Alberto Costa led with a technical query about a tweet from Starmer regarding a bus fare cap, questioning whether it breached the ministerial code. Starmer patiently explained the distinction between the old Tory cap and his government's new policy, a point of detail that failed to ignite the room.

Costa persisted, moving on to the perennial issue of ministers briefing policy to the media before Parliament. This practice, a decades-old tradition across governments, prompted the usual cycle of faux outrage. The line of questioning underscored a feeling that the opportunity to challenge the Prime Minister on substantive issues was being squandered on dreary and trivial matters of protocol.

Briefings, Leaks, and the Question of Accountability

Labour's Cat Smith shifted the focus to the heart of government, asking whether Number 10 had been the source of briefings against cabinet ministers. Here, Starmer showed more engagement, expressing his own apparent dismay at the leaks. He revealed he had launched an inquiry, vowing to act on the evidence wherever it led—so long as it did not lead back to him. He stated categorically that he had authorised no such briefings, having already questioned himself on the matter.

Chair Meg Hillier noted the irony, pointing out that Chancellor Rachel Reeves had given a similar defence to the Treasury committee the previous week regarding a leak to the Financial Times. The distinction, it seemed, lay in the authorisation: a briefing was an authorised leak, while a leak was unauthorised—a fine but crucial difference in Westminster's corridors of power.

From the House of Lords to the 'Five Missions'

The discussion meandered into the thorny issue of House of Lords reform. While criticisms of the chamber as an outdated institution packed with party donors and retired politicians hung in the air, no MP present was bold enough to call for its abolition outright—a silence perhaps explained by the widespread ambition for a peerage as a reward for political service.

The latter part of the session turned to Labour's flagship 'five missions for government'. This proved problematic, as even Starmer seemed to struggle to articulate them with clarity or passion. When pressed on progress, he was a solitary voice in asserting they were going very well, expressing surprise he had not received more credit, while admitting some delays.

MPs Cat Smith and Alistair Carmichael confronted the Prime Minister on the sensitive issue of inheritance tax changes affecting farmers, suggesting the new rules could make it financially prudent for some to die before the April deadline. Starmer's response was seen as dismissive, suggesting farmers had ample time to arrange their affairs.

The session concluded with cursory discussions on the resident doctors' strike and energy prices, before ending abruptly. With the Prime Minister needing to depart for Berlin and the collective will to live in the room seemingly exhausted, the committee drew to a close. The event served as a stark example of the often pointlessly performative nature of parliamentary scrutiny, leaving attendees and observers alike wondering what, if anything, had been achieved.