Bold opening: This is a country at a tipping point, where the anger and distrust wounding its politics threaten to redefine its future. And this is the part most people miss: the path forward hinges as much on trust as on policy.
What’s the mood in a Starmer-led Britain? Talk to frustrated voters in Gorton and Denton, and the strain becomes unmistakable. In the chilly, rain-soaked streets of south-east Manchester, the Labour coalition appears fragile with just nine days left before the crucial byelection in Gorton and Denton. What unites these communities is not a shared enthusiasm for the government, but a palpable contempt for the prime minister.
Mention Keir Starmer’s name, and laughter follows—not in warmth, but in disbelief, as if discussing him as a serious leader feels almost absurd. “He doesn’t keep his promises,” a middle-aged dog walker says, choosing restraint over candor about her real feelings.
And her view isn’t rare. The government’s latest chaotic reversal, this time about delaying local elections, landed with a thud after Nigel Farage and Reform threatened a legal challenge. The plan was abandoned not because Starmer concluded it was the wrong move, but because he risked losing a legal battle. “He says he’ll do something and then doesn’t,” she adds, a sentiment echoed by many.
Polls reinforce the growing sense of betrayal: six in 10 Britons consider Starmer untrustworthy, with only about one in five seeing him as trustworthy. This perception stems from a political project led by Morgan McSweeney, Starmer’s former chief of staff, who some believe promised left-leaning reforms to win Labour members’ support six years ago and then pivoted. The consequence is a lasting impression that the government is inherently mendacious.
In Gorton and Denton, that erosion of trust is visible everywhere. Labour carried about half the vote in 2024, but today the coalition is fracturing in opposite directions: toward Zack Polanski’s Greens on the populist left, and toward Reform UK on a nationalist, Trump-like right. Commentators often split the constituency into two blocks: a younger, more diverse Gorton and an older, whiter, working-class Denton. Green posters and garden signs are plentiful in Gorton, while Denton features more Union Jack displays.
Yet people don’t always fit neat boxes. An older Denton resident complains about “illegal migrants” taking jobs, even as she admits she’ll vote for Green candidate Hannah Spencer, a local plumber. A septuagenarian in a Mancunian accent lashes out at Rachel Reeves for what he views as a pensioner-targeted vendetta—and he, too, plans to back the leftward insurgents. Spencer argues that Reform and others wrongly assume uniform attitudes in white working-class communities, insisting that many residents care deeply about a place where everyone can live.
Even so, the anger in the district expresses itself in varied ways. For some who lean toward Reform’s Matt Goodwin, immigration dominates the grievance, with a middle-aged woman saying Britain seems crowded with immigrants and that there aren’t enough homes—while her three sons remain stuck on council-house waiting lists. This is the logic driving right-wing populism: the feeling of a zero-sum game where fewer foreigners supposedly frees up housing and jobs. The real problem, though, is not simply immigration but a housing shortage created by the sale of council stock without adequate replacement.
If Greens are to beat the right-wing populist message, they need a broad, energized base of younger activists. The Greens claim to have knocked on roughly 11,000 doors in a single weekend—about a quarter of local households—and are building organizational capacity from scratch.
Labour’s own support appears increasingly intangible. In conversations, some locals suggest Labour voters are hard to find, while a few party loyalists contend the media harsher toward Starmer than it was toward Conservative leaders. Even among Labour supporters, confidence wavers about polling day choices to stop Reform.
Labour remains confident, yet this byelection upends typical expectations. When a party competes with another progressive force, incentives shift: mobilizing is not just about turning out existing supporters but about addressing “shy Labour voters”—the modern equivalent of the reluctance to disclose voting intent due to stigma.
What’s clear is Labour’s ground game struggles to articulate a clear direction. A cheerful canvasser from Bradford calls equality a core Labour value, yet struggles to name concrete policies that embody it. Briefings claim Muslim voters remain supportive despite anger over Britain’s role in Gaza, but critics argue Labour has treated Muslim communities as political instruments, a narrative Farrukh Haroon calls an empty accusation that has already been challenged by changing alliances.
What should worry anyone who cares about democracy is the level of angry disengagement on display. Some residents have effectively stopped voting, expressing a deep-seated contempt for politicians. Greens have yet to win them over with a populist alternative.
After years of living standards and public services in crisis, hope has withered. The environment is beset by frustration and despair, not just anger, and if that despair hardens, the country risks drifting toward darker political currents. When trust is eroded as it is in places like Gorton and Denton, the consequences for the public square—and for democracy—are unpredictable.
Note: Owen Jones is a Guardian columnist.
