A Measured Man

Keir Starmer delivers a landmark India trade deal with quiet efficiency while Britain waits for something more.

Earlier this week, Britain’s Prime Minister Keir Starmer stood beside Indian premier Narendra Modi on the lawns of Chequers and announced a “historic” free-trade agreement between the United Kingdom and India. Behind the studied smiles and subdued choreography was a moment of genuine consequence. The deal, three-and-a-half years in the making, is expected to boost the UK economy by £4.8bn a year and unlock £6bn in bilateral investment. Tariffs on British goods will be slashed while Indian professionals will have capped access to UK labour markets. Services will flow more freely both ways.

It is the sort of achievement Starmer is most comfortable with, one which is grounded and negotiated line by line. Where Boris Johnson might have boasted of empire reborn and David Cameron of liberal globalism, Starmer, ever the former prosecutor, spoke in the clipped idiom of outcomes: “jobs, investment, growth.” The UK-India FTA is not a visionary leap but a piece of careful engineering, designed to serve specific constituencies and avoid upsetting others. In that sense, it is Starmer in miniature.

At 62, Starmer is Britain’s oldest incoming prime minister since James Callaghan. He arrived at No. 10 without fanfare, powered less by enthusiasm than exhaustion of that of his predecessors, the public’s, and the nation’s. His critics accuse him of being a man without a story, governing without doctrine or compass. Even his allies concede that many of the government’s early stumbles, especially over asylum policy, welfare restraint and fiscal caution. These have been compounded by an inability to explain how each decision fits into a larger whole.

The India deal offers a rare moment of thematic coherence. It signals a sober re-engagement with global trade after years of post-Brexit uncertainty. India, the world’s fastest-growing large economy and a key geopolitical counterweight to China, was always meant to be a centrepiece of Global Britain. Yet negotiations had floundered under Conservative rule, caught between British anxieties over immigration and Indian sensitivities around agriculture and services.

Starmer’s government cut through the ideological clutter. The final text reflects the kind of compromise he excels at: Indian chefs and yoga teachers will be allowed temporary entry under a strict quota system, British agri-food exports will have new access to Indian markets, and India’s sensitive sectors, namely dairy, apples and oils, will remain shielded. Skilled Indian professionals may deliver services in the UK for up to a year, while British firms will have a firmer foothold in India’s legal, financial, and technical sectors.

This is a deal that prioritises services over symbolism. And that too is very Starmer. His political career is marked by pragmatism and quiet reinvention from human rights barrister to Director of Public Prosecutions; from Corbynite shadow minister to fiscal hawk; from pro-immigration liberal to ‘hard Labour’ manager promising tighter borders and leaner government. The India agreement demonstrates that this shapeshifting can yield results if not inspiration.

But there are risks. Starmer’s penchant for technocratic clarity may not always satisfy a public hungry for purpose. His caution, once an asset in opposition, may in government appear as drift. The UK-India deal was finalised largely on the momentum of prior efforts. Future initiatives on climate, infrastructure and defence will demand not just competence but conviction.

Starmer is not a transformational figure. He does not seek to reinvent the state, nor to dazzle the public with rhetoric. He is a builder of frameworks, a drafter of contracts, a man more comfortable with clause 4.1 than Clause IV. In a disoriented Britain, that may be enough for now. But sooner or later, even reluctant architects must reveal the building they intend to leave behind.