Late in the day a fullish Commons finally discussed Venezuela. Kemi Badenoch was there, the Lib Dems‘ portly Sir Ed Davey was there; we even had both of Your Party’s leaders, Comrades Corbyn and Sultana; they smouldered beside one another like Iran and Iraq.
But no Sir Keir Starmer. The Prime Minister, who had apparently spent his morning with ‘influencers’, was disinclined to spend the early evening in the company of elected parliamentarians.
His absence felt ill-judged. With Left-wingers wringing their withers about ‘the international order’, Britain’s leading international-law bore had done a vanishing trick.
Where was he? Having his high tea? Sitting by a telephone waiting to speak to Donald Trump? ‘You are 45th in the line – we appreciate your patience at this time.’ Or was he under his eiderdown, eyes closed, pretending none of it was happening?
MPs on all sides found his no-show risible. Mrs Badenoch said the country ‘wanted to know how the Prime Minister was going to respond’ to the Venezuela crisis. Pete Wishart, for the SNP, said a British PM had never looked ‘so irrelevant and spineless’.
Richard Burgon (Lab, Leeds East) said Sir Keir’s decision not to come to Parliament ‘spoke volumes’ and betrayed a ‘cowardly, craven approach’.
Brother Burgon, it should be conceded, seldom saw a communist Latin American dictator he did not idolise. Even so, his attack on Sir Keir did not discombobulate the Labour benches. I saw young Phil Brickell (Lab, Bolton West) and Nick Smith (Lab, Blaenau Gwent) roll their eyes. Mr Smith’s wife used to be Sir Keir’s right-hand woman, so he is very much a Team Starmer insider.
But no other Labour backbenchers flinched at Mr Burgon’s ‘cowardly, craven’ description. For a PM to be so disowned by his own parliamentary troops was remarkable. At this rate Sir Keir might want to recruit a few Cuban bodyguards.
Foreign Secretary Yvette Cooper at the despatch box, and Defence Secretary John Healey
The statement was entrusted to Yvette Cooper, Foreign Secretary. She opened with a few sentences of tribute to the victims of the Crans-Montana fire. Having got that out of the way, a lighter, breezier tone came to her voice and she trilled ‘Madam deputy Speaker, we turn to Venezuela’, as if it was a mere trifle.
She was trying to sound blasé. The Maduro kidnapping? Pah, a piffling, minor affair, and certainly not one that need trouble the House. Venezuela had become ‘a hub for dangerous, organised gangs’. Whitehall loves that word ‘hub’.
The words flew out of her in a brisk manner. Britain had to be ‘progressive but realistic’. She had spoken to Venezuela’s opposition leader. ‘We’ll keep in touch,’ she gassed.
Mrs Badenoch (who by the way has a vast new handbag – it’s the size of a sports grip) dropped her voice half an octave and said Sir Keir should ‘work with’ the US, and ‘not snipe from the sidelines’. Why were we never consulted by the White House these days? ‘We must be serious about security,’ growled Kemi.
Ms Cooper tried to patronise her but it didn’t work. Yvette was squeaking. When Tom Tugendhat (Con, Tonbridge) took a pop at Sir Keir, Ms Cooper started giggling, hoping to belittle Mr Tugendhat. This failed.
Ms Cooper stood at the despatch box with a strange, corkscrew stance, ankles crossed. She was perhaps trying to project calm indifference but this was a wittering performance reflecting insipid leadership. You can’t make pottery when the clay is watery.
After half an hour, that old bloodhound Sir John Whittingdale (Con, Maldon) complained he couldn’t work out if the Government was pro or agin the Americans. Ms Cooper could have said ‘thank you’ – after all, lack of commitment can be a diplomatic achievement. Instead she just sighed.
This Venezuela business has found out Sir Keir. For one who is forever saying ‘let me be clear’, he is allergic to decisiveness. The knight who can’t say yes or no. A blinky vole. A trembling curtain.
In Hamlet he’d be stabbed by mistake, and only have himself to blame.