\n
<\/p>\n
The scene opens on the interior of an aeroplane.<\/p>\n
A suited man in a luxurious seat looks pensively out the window, his face partially obscured, his chin delicately resting on his hand.<\/p>\n
Dreamy synths reverberate as the camera pans to show a fighter jet, hovering above the clouds just past the plane\u2019s wing.<\/p>\n
It turns and flies away, its dark shadow set against the warm yellow sunset.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d explain, but it\u2019s classified,\u201d the TikTok video\u2019s caption reads, the username above revealing the identity of the mystery man: Keir Starmer.<\/p>\n
In the comment section, one user puts a voice to the question on a thousand lips.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy is our prime minister aura farming?\u201d<\/p>\n
Allow TikTok content?<\/p>\n
This article includes content provided by TikTok. We ask for your permission before anything is loaded, as they may be using cookies and other technologies. To view this content, click ‘Allow and continue’<\/strong>.<\/p>\n When the UK prime minister launched his TikTok account earlier this week, I assumed we\u2019d get the same slate of cringeworthy content that so many elected officials have given us before.<\/p>\n Stiff line delivery, policy talking points awkwardly shoehorned into already outdated memes, and the general feeling a PR person is holding them at gunpoint just out of shot.<\/p>\n Alas, no. In a shocking twist, Starmer\u2019s TikToks are borderline competent.<\/p>\n The majority of the videos seem to be attempts at ultra short-form cin\u00e9ma v\u00e9rit\u00e9: a camera operator following the prime minister around, catching snippets of him saying good morning to security guards, questioning where chief mouser, Larry the cat, is and greeting the Ukrainian president, Volodymyr Zelenskyy.<\/p>\n Allow TikTok content?<\/p>\n This article includes content provided by TikTok. We ask for your permission before anything is loaded, as they may be using cookies and other technologies. To view this content, click ‘Allow and continue’<\/strong>.<\/p>\n The \u201cpeek behind the curtain\u201d style is clearly designed to make the prime minister feel more relatable to young UK voters, and while there\u2019s definitely potential here, all his videos share the same fatal flaw.<\/p>\n Starmer cares about looking cool.<\/p>\n \u201cAura farming\u201d is an internet term for someone posting content trying to seem effortlessly suave, handsome or charismatic.<\/p>\n And look, for my own sanity, I have to assume Starmer\u2019s team was being tongue-in-cheek when they captioned that plane video: \u201cI\u2019d explain, but it\u2019s classified\u201d \u2013 that they were poking fun at people trying to seem cool on the internet.<\/p>\n But the more I look through his TikToks, with every shot so carefully curated to make Starmer seem competent and in control, the more I began to feel the accusation of \u201caura farming\u201d fitted.<\/p>\n And on a platform such as TikTok, which trades off vulnerability and intimacy, being caught trying to seem aloof is a crime worse than murder. (Or at least worse than the \u201cmillennial pause\u201d, and that\u2019s pretty bad.)<\/p>\n There are some rare examples of politicians feeling authentically at home on the app: in the US, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez has found great success speaking frankly to her iPhone camera from her living room couch. Even a lower-profile politician such as the Australian MP Julian Hill has cultivated a dedicated following by sharing his frustrations with the opposition from his cluttered parliamentary office.<\/p>\n Allow TikTok content?<\/p>\n This article includes content provided by TikTok. We ask for your permission before anything is loaded, as they may be using cookies and other technologies. To view this content, click ‘Allow and continue’<\/strong>.<\/p>\n The politicians that truly succeed on TikTok are the ones where you can suspend your disbelief just enough to believe they\u2019re actually hitting \u201cpost\u201d themselves. Where a little part of you is holding out hope that they might actually reply to your comment.<\/p>\n But Starmer never gets within a metre of the camera lens, let alone a comment section keyboard. A style, no doubt, influenced by the fact that TikTok is technically banned on government phones, due to data security concerns, and his team is, no doubt, terrified to imply he might actually have the app downloaded.<\/p>\n Allow TikTok content?<\/p>\n This article includes content provided by TikTok. We ask for your permission before anything is loaded, as they may be using cookies and other technologies. To view this content, click ‘Allow and continue’<\/strong>.<\/p>\n Numbers wise, the videos are going well, two of them already crack 1m views, but that lack of intimacy comes at a cost. The comments under any politician\u2019s post are going to be filled with far more vitriol than praise \u2013 that\u2019s just how the internet works. What\u2019s notable about Starmer\u2019s is just how generic the comments are.<\/p>\n It\u2019s all \u201cget this clown out\u201d, \u201cvote reform\u201d and the occasional \u201cbest prime minister ever\u201d, but barely any mention of the actual content at hand.<\/p>\n Because ultimately, the videos don\u2019t have any content \u2013 besides a fleeting sense of novelty, there\u2019s no reason I would ever send them to friends, let alone bring them up at the pub. These videos only exist to prove what a cool guy Starmer is. And he isn\u2019t.<\/p>\n So no, the UK prime minister\u2019s first foray into the world of TikTok hasn\u2019t been an utter embarrassment. But it might have been better if it was.<\/p>\n Like most politicians, Starmer is an innately dorky man and if he is really serious about winning the hearts (and votes) of young people, his TikTok needs to embrace and celebrate that, not unconvincingly hide it away.<\/p>\n I have some ideas for what he could do, and I would explain, but hey, it\u2019s classified.<\/p>\n