In April 2022, Rachel Reeves, then Labour’s shadow chancellor, called on her opposite number Rishi Sunak to resign from office. At that time, Reeves was seeking to cement her credentials as one of the political ‘grown-ups’ and a serious potential steward of the economy.
She knew Sunak was battling to manage one of the greatest financial crises in British history, as he fought to stabilise the nation’s books in the wake of the pandemic.
But Reeves was unequivocal: Sunak had to go.
His crime? Not personal financial impropriety or gross fiscal mismanagement. It was the fact he had arrived for a meeting with Boris Johnson a few minutes early, totally unaware the then prime minister’s wife had decided to throw a surprise birthday party for her husband and briefly taken possession of a plate that held a slice of cake.
In response, the Metropolitan Police had opted to issue a penalty notice. ‘It cannot be one rule for Boris Johnson and Rishi Sunak, and another for everyone else,’ Reeves declared. ‘Those at the top making the rules, broke the rules.’
There was no room for ambiguity. The regulations had been set by senior ministers, including the Chancellor. The Chancellor had breached those regulations, albeit inadvertently. So the Chancellor needed to quit.
But then yesterday it emerged another Chancellor had broken the rules – and the law. Rachel Reeves herself.
As this paper revealed, since September 2024 she has been receiving a healthy £3,200 a month in rent for her four-bedroom Southwark house. But because of Southwark Council regulations, renters in the borough need to obtain a ‘selective licence’ to rent out their properties. And Reeves had not obtained that licence, which costs around £900. So she was in breach of the law.
Rachel Reeves has come under fire after it was revealed she broke the law over renting rules
The Chancellor has been receiving a healthy £3,200 a month for leasing this four-bedroom house in Southwark, London since last year
On this occasion, though, the attitude of Reeves, Keir Starmer and their colleagues to flagrant ministerial lawbreaking is remarkably different.
On being caught bang to rights, Reeves hurriedly applied for a licence, then contacted the Prime Minister. He, in turn, briefly consulted his ethics adviser, Laurie Magnus. And then declared the matter closed.
So why, to quote Reeves’ own phrase at the time of Sunak’s regulatory breach, is it one rule for her and another rule for everyone else? Or, more specifically, one rule for her and another rule for her political opponents?
Reeves had only breached the law unwittingly, according to her allies, because the rental had been managed by a letting agency and it had made an error over the regulations without informing her.
But when Rishi Sunak was fined, he too had been totally ignorant of the planned party, wandering into it entirely by chance. Yet Reeves still demanded his head.
Could it be that the potential penalty for Reeves’ offence is trivial by comparison to the one imposed on Sunak? Again, it doesn’t appear so. Sunak’s fine was a few hundred pounds. The maximum penalty for Reeves’ offence is an unlimited fine on prosecution, or a ‘civil penalty’ of £30,000. It is a criminal offence.
Perhaps Reeves intends to argue the law she broke was trivial when set against the rules put in place to protect the nation from Covid. But the selective licensing regime is an important piece of legislation.
According to Reeves’ own government, it is designed to ensure ‘greater security of tenure, and safer, higher-quality homes for renters’. Which is why, on her watch, the Government is expanding its scope.
No. The real reason is that Keir Starmer and his colleagues believe the rules are for the little people. Or their big political enemies. Or just about anyone who doesn’t share a dinner table, or Cabinet table, with them.
Reeves and her rental. Rayner and her stamp duty. The anti-corruption minister Tulip Siddiq and her corruption scandal. The pattern is wearily familiar. And underpinned by a sense of entitlement that is truly breathtaking. Abiding by the regulations the rest of the British people have to abide by? That’s optional.
Actually, it’s not that they’re seen as optional. It’s that ministers don’t even seem to feel the need to bother to be properly focused on the regulations at all.
In both the Reeves and Rayner cases, the excuses have been identical. They didn’t realise the breaches were taking place because they had outsourced responsibility to third parties, who somehow failed to grasp what the law actually was.
How does Keir Starmer not get it? As he waves away more illegality with a dismissive ‘nothing to see here’, how has he managed to forget how frequently and self-righteously he berated Boris Johnson for exactly the same casual disregard for public probity?
Let me jog his memory. In January 2022, Sir Keir unveiled what he called his ‘contract’ with Britain: ‘The very first clause in that contract, is a binding commitment about decency and standards in public life. Of course, these standards already exist. They are known as the Nolan Principles – selflessness, integrity, objectivity, accountability, openness, honesty, leadership. So my solemn promise to you will always be to run a government that honours these principles.’
We can now all see how the Prime Minister intends to honour those principles – by brushing more misconduct by one of his most senior ministers under the carpet without even bothering to conduct a proper investigation.
Three years ago, Rachel Reeves said there couldn’t be one rule for those who make the rules and another rule for everyone else. Keir Starmer clearly has other ideas.
