There is an old rule in British politics: if a Labour politician spends long enough demanding the abolition of something, sooner or later he will ask for a seat on it.
We have watched Chancellors become bankers and Health Secretaries become pharmaceutical consultants. Now we have witnessed Keir Starmer, a man who built much of his political identity around denouncing the House of Lords, spend his final hours in office filling it with new appointees, while Sir Sadiq Khan, who spent years making much the same argument, cheerfully accepting one of the seats himself.
It is enough to make you wonder whether Labour’s objection to the Lords was never that it existed, merely that they were not sitting in it.
Let us rewind the tape, because the hypocrisy is magnificent.
During his years in opposition, Sir Keir was never shy on the subject. The House of Lords, he argued, was an outdated relic that should be abolished and replaced with something democratic, modern and accountable. Peerages, he insisted, should not be handed out to political allies, donors and loyalists. The Conservatives, he claimed, had turned the honours system into a reward scheme for cronies.
Strong words. The sort of words that age badly when, a few years later, you find yourself personally handing out peerages at industrial scale.
Not only did Starmer sweep away the remaining hereditary peers, finally removing ninety-two individuals but then came the twist… he promptly ushered an even larger crowd of political appointees back in through the side entrance.
Twenty-six peers appeared on his resignation honours list alone, on top of the many appointments made throughout his premiership. It is rather like proudly announcing that you have abolished nepotism, only to replace it with favouritism and expect everyone to applaud the distinction.
To be fair, Labour has form in this department. Tony Blair created peers with the enthusiasm of a man collecting loyalty points, appointing hundreds during his time in office. Sir Keir is hardly the first Labour leader to discover a sudden fondness for ermine.
But what makes this episode stand out is the sheer distance between the rhetoric and the reality.
Having proudly abolished the hereditary principle because it was supposedly “unfair” and “undemocratic”, Sir Keir simply replaced it with what might be called the prime ministerial principle, hereditary privilege’s younger, slicker and infinitely smugger cousin. Instead of inheriting your title from your father, you now inherit it from whichever departing Prime Minister happens to be scribbling names onto a resignation honours list while the removal vans are waiting outside Number 10.
Progress, apparently.
Who could forget, too, Sir Keir’s previous assurances that he would NOT use the honours system in the same way as his predecessors? Yet another U-turn to add to a collection now so extensive it could probably qualify for listed status.
Then we arrive at Sadiq Khan, whose role in this production deserves special recognition.
For years, Sir Sadiq and his allies have treated the House of Lords as though it were a constitutional embarrassment best discussed in hushed tones. Sadiq has openly called for the Lords to be abolished and accused Conservatives of “stuffing” the Lords with political appointments. As it turns out, stuffing the Lords is only objectionable when someone else is doing the stuffing.
When rumours first emerged that Sir Sadiq might receive a peerage, allies responded with the sort of carefully crafted non-denial normally reserved for politicians caught on camera entering a building they previously claimed never to have visited. It was, they said, “a matter for the government.”
Indeed it was.
And now it appears it was a matter settled entirely to Sir Sadiq’s satisfaction. Lord Khan. Funny how quickly an unelected title becomes appealing when it has your name attached to it.
Whether he becomes Lord Khan of Tooting, Lord Khan of ULEZ, or perhaps Baron Congestion Charge of City Hall remains to be seen.
His supporters will no doubt celebrate his record. His critics will point to London’s housing crisis, concerns about policing, transport controversies and the deeply divisive expansion of ULEZ. Others may simply wonder whether a man who spent years criticising an unelected chamber should be quite so enthusiastic about receiving a seat in it.
Whatever view one takes of his mayoralty, the irony is impossible to miss.
A politician who spent years attacking the House of Lords now enjoys a lifetime place in it.
One opponent put the question rather neatly: if you wanted the House of Lords abolished, what exactly changed? Your principles or your postcode?
Taken together, the spectacle is almost beautiful in its symmetry:
Sir Keir spent years arguing that the Lords should disappear, then repopulated it before leaving office.
Sir Sadiq spent years arguing that the Lords should disappear, then accepted a seat in it.
Between them they have demonstrated a truth neither intended to reveal: Britain’s political class does not really hate the House of Lords. It merely hates being excluded from it.
The relationship is remarkably similar to that of a teenager loudly declaring a family car to be outdated, embarrassing and utterly pointless, right up until the moment the keys are handed over.
The House of Lords, it turns out, does not require protection from its enemies.
Its enemies keep queuing up to join it.
