Barely months into office, the Prime Minister’s handling of the migrant crisis—if one can even call it “handling”—is already ringing alarm bells among voters who dared to believe his promises.
This week, Starmer will travel to the G7 summit in Canada, where he plans to “plead” with Emmanuel Macron to do more to stem the tide of small boats crossing the Channel.
Let us pause to consider the optics. The leader of the United Kingdom, a nuclear power and sovereign nation, reducing himself to pleading with the French president after already handing over nearly half a billion pounds of taxpayers’ money to secure precisely the cooperation we are still waiting for. So much for “taking back control.”
In the past four days alone, 1,505 migrants have reached British shores. That includes 400 on Wednesday, 52 on Thursday, a staggering 919 on Friday, and 134 on Saturday. The message is painfully clear: the boats are not stopping. In fact, the pace is accelerating. Over 16,000 arrivals have been recorded so far this year—43 per cent higher than the same period in 2024. At this rate, Britain will face a record influx by the time winter sets in.
The public, understandably, wants action. What it is getting from Starmer is platitude, performance, and policy paralysis. As always.
The Prime Minister made a great show of declaring his intention to “smash the gangs” responsible for human trafficking, as if he were some latter-day Eliot Ness poised to sweep the Channel clean. But no amount of stern rhetoric can disguise the fact that he chose to scrap the previous government’s Rwanda deportation plan without offering any serious alternative.
For all the legal and ethical hand-wringing around that scheme, it had one essential virtue: deterrence. Migrants risk their lives crossing from France in flimsy dinghies not because they are fleeing persecution in Calais, but because they believe the journey will be rewarded with permanent settlement in the UK. Take away the reward and the risk becomes far less appealing. Sir Keir, however, has chosen to send precisely the opposite message. Under his leadership, Britain has become more open to exploitation, not less.
To add insult to injury, his Chancellor Rachel Reeves last week announced that the use of hotels to house illegal migrants—a policy costing taxpayers millions each month—would not be phased out until after the next general election. That is 2029, by which time another 100,000 arrivals could be a conservative estimate. One wonders whether Labour intends to nationalise Premier Inn by then.
The issue here is not just the numbers, distressing though they are. It is the blatant mismatch between the scale of the problem and the seriousness with which this government is treating it. Sir Keir does not appear to grasp the political, social, and cultural implications of unchecked migration, nor the corrosive effect it has on public faith in democratic institutions.
Britain is not a fortress, nor should it wish to be. But it is also not a soft touch. Or rather, it shouldn’t be. Yet this government is behaving as though Britain must simply resign itself to being the final destination for tens of thousands of undocumented arrivals every year, because doing anything else would be too controversial, too difficult, too “un-European.”
No serious country—least of all one that has just spent a decade untangling itself from Brussels’ grip—would accept this state of affairs. And yet our Prime Minister seems more concerned with diplomatic niceties than decisive action. When he sits down with President Macron this week, he will reportedly request greater French enforcement. That is not good enough. The UK has already bankrolled French operations to the tune of £480 million. Where is the return on that investment?
British voters have been remarkably patient. They have tolerated wave after wave of government promises and policy U-turns. But the mood is hardening. What was once a concern is now a crisis, and what was once a fringe issue is now a defining test of leadership.
Sir Keir must understand that immigration is no longer an abstract debate. It is a tangible, daily pressure on public services, housing, and social cohesion. He cannot keep kicking the can to the next summit, the next spending review, the next Parliament.
The question is no longer whether Britain can stop the boats. It is whether the man currently occupying Number 10 has the courage, the imagination, and the will to try. So far, the answer appears to be no.
A Prime Minister who fails to defend his country’s borders fails in his most basic duty. It is not enough to be liked in international gatherings, nor to signal virtue with empty slogans. If Sir Keir cannot restore control and confidence at home, all the diplomatic charm in the world will not save him from the judgment of a nation tired of waiting for action.
