The non-state solution

Keir Starmer has finally recognised the State of Palestine. Which is rather like recognising Atlantis: an act of political faith performed in the absence of observable land. The British prime minister, eager to flex moral muscle without breaking a sweat, has bestowed statehood upon an entity that cannot hold an election, cannot control its borders, and cannot decide whether its capital is Ramallah, Gaza, or Doha. Britain, once famed for drawing maps, now contents itself with drawing illusions.

Recognition is supposed to clarify. Instead, it muddies. Does Starmer recognise a state or a democracy? If the latter, where are the voters? The Palestinian Authority hasn’t risked an election since 2006, which means Mahmoud Abbas is entering his twentieth year of a four-year term. Starmer celebrates democracy by consecrating an unelected satrapy, which survives on Western aid cheques and the delusion that Palestinians actually want it. Gaza, meanwhile, is run by Hamas, whose idea of the ballot is the Kalashnikov. Who removes Hamas? Starmer, with a stern lecture and a GQ cover shoot?

The absurdities multiply. A state is supposed to have sovereignty, but who exactly is in charge of the bits not under Israeli control? Will this Palestine host Iranian Revolutionary Guard bases in Jenin? A Turkish airstrip in Nablus? Nothing in Starmer’s declaration prevents it. A state issues passports, which raises the tantalising possibility of millions of Palestinian travel documents printed in Ramallah and waved around refugee camps in Lebanon, Syria, and beyond. One wonders if Starmer is ready for the first batch of London asylum seekers brandishing brand-new Palestinian passports his government helped conjure.

The contradictions are endless. Britain wants the PA to rule, but the Palestinians have largely abandoned it. Britain says Hamas is excluded, but Hamas controls Gaza. Britain says recognition will advance peace, but peace talks haven’t existed for years, and the recognition removes whatever incentive the Palestinians had to negotiate. Britain says recognition promotes democracy, but recognises the only Arab regime that has made non-voting into a constitutional principle. It’s like applauding a restaurant for its cuisine while admitting the kitchen has no food.

Recognition is usually the reward for functioning statehood. Starmer has inverted the formula: statehood first, then perhaps functionality later. This is the diplomatic equivalent of awarding Olympic gold medals before the race on the theory that the athletes might try harder once they’ve already won.

And here lies the deeper problem. This isn’t a policy; it’s a performance. Starmer needed a foreign-policy gesture large enough to make headlines but small enough to avoid consequences. Recognition of Palestine does the trick. It gratifies the Labour base, pleases the bien-pensant classes, and costs nothing—except, of course, reality. The price is paid not in London, but in Jerusalem and Ramallah, where the gap between what is declared and what exists only widens.

The world has no shortage of states on paper. South Yemen, Western Sahara, Somaliland—each with its flags, constitutions, and stamps. None has solved their problems, let alone the Palestinian problem. Starmer now adds one more parchment republic to the pile, in the hope that symbolism will substitute for sovereignty.

The ironies almost write themselves. Starmer champions a two-state solution by recognising a state that doesn’t yet exist, in order to negotiate its future existence, with a leadership that no longer represents its people, while excluding the faction that actually governs half its territory.

Starmer mistakes paper for power, and speeches for states. Call it as you like—just don’t call it diplomacy.