THE crisis that continues to face Sir Keir Starmer is extraordinary, given the circumstances in which he came to power: a huge majority, a discredited opposition, a clear, if daunting, agenda: low growth, housing, regional inequality, the NHS, small boats. Part of his appeal to the electorate was that he was unexciting. We were still getting over Boris Johnson and Liz Truss. As a former lawyer, we assumed that Sir Keir would be competent, methodical, and dutiful.

But what is now apparent is that competence, method, and duty do not make up for a lack of a plan. Sir Keir has increasingly faced criticism that he lacks vision. More recently, over the Mandelson affair, he has been accused of lacking the basic curiosity that often comes with political instinct.

Sir Keir is the first British Prime Minister who has been explicit about his atheism to the point of choosing to make a solemn affirmation when required rather than a religious oath. I was initially surprised that he chose to make his disbelief known, and then was faintly baffled by his habit of affirming communities of faith at their major festivals.

Until recently, I have shrugged off Sir Keir’s lack of conviction while being heartened that his love of music and keeping of Friday evenings for his family might be indications that he at least has a soul. Yet it has all seemed a bit patronising to be solemnly told by a non-believer that Easter is a sign of new life.

Sir Keir is perhaps an example of what happens when rules and procedures take the place of vision and personal engagement. He believes, as other non-believers in God often do, that human beings are perfectly capable of rational decision-making. Rules may need revision from time to time, but the legalistic principle remains. There seems no room in a moral universe like this either for sin or grace, and, where there is neither sin nor grace, there is no redemption, and, perhaps, no true flowering of human personality.

At the start of the 1991 Iraq War, John Major addressed the nation on television and ended by saying “God bless.” He recognised that, at the moment of crisis, he needed to appear “face to face”, and also that it was appropriate, in a very low-key way, to invoke the belief that the majority still had at that time, however vaguely.

Rules and procedures are obviously vital in government, as elsewhere. But they should be a means to an end, supporting human flourishing rather than frustrating it. Sir Keir is, no doubt, a decent man, but, as he faces the consequences of his recent failures, I cannot help remembering that Jesus had rogues among his friends and that many of the arguments that he got into were with the lawyers.