The Treasury focuses on numbers when what’s needed is vision. The party and the country are crying out for leadership, but it’s nowhere to be seen
She is not the first chancellor to cry in public, and may not be the last. But Rachel Reeves is the first whose tears have moved markets. No sooner had the realisation dawned that she was silently weeping – over a personal sorrow she won’t be pushed into revealing, she insisted later, not a political one – as she sat beside Keir Starmer at Wednesday’s prime minister’s questions, than the pound was dropping and the cost of borrowing rising. The bond traders who forced out Liz Truss’s hapless chancellor still clearly rate her judgment and want her to stay, even if (perhaps especially if) some Labour MPs don’t. Yet it is an extraordinary thing to live with the knowledge that a moment’s uncontrolled emotion can drive up the cost of a nation’s mortgages, just as a misjudged stroke of the budget pen can destroy lives.
The most striking thing about her tears, however, was Starmer’s failure to notice. Intent on the Tory benches opposite, the prime minister simply ploughed on, not realising that his closest political ally was dissolving beside him. Though within hours, a clearly mortified Starmer had thrown a metaphorical arm around her, and Reeves herself was back out talking up her beloved fiscal rules as if nothing had happened. But it’s the kind of image that sticks: her distress and his oblivion, an unfortunately convenient metaphor for all the times he has seemed oddly detached from his own government.
Gaby Hinsliff is a Guardian columnist
