Batman is the hero of Gotham City. He’s the one locals turn to when they need saving. He’s the name on everyone’s lips. But the reality is that Gotham City crime is also kept under control by the police commissioner – a character who uses the law to bring justice.

Every time Batman swoops off into the night after delivering a criminal to the police, it’s the police commissioner who steps in to do the paperwork that will actually land the crook in jail. He is a family man, locked into his job, trying to be morally firm. But ask anyone who they prefer and the answer is obvious. Everyone will say Batman.

I don’t need to tell you which character Keir Starmer is in this analogy. But there is a danger that he is treading so carefully in the shoes of the police commissioner that he is losing the public’s heart. He is right to recognise that functional day-to-day politics is a police commissioner’s life. But to sell a political narrative to the public, you need a sprinkle of Batman.

Starmer promised in a speech in the garden of Downing Street that he is fixing the foundations. “I promised that we would get a grip on the problems that we face,” he said. “And that we would be judged by our actions, not by our words.”

There have been some actions. The government has created a national wealth fund to create economic growth and Great British Energy to reduce energy bills. The response to the recent riots was swift and decisive. We can expect more actions as parliament starts work again.

But Labour is judged by words, too. This creates a problem for Starmer, the government, and the public. Starmer is painting a picture of Britain as Gotham City – a “deeply unhealthy society”.

A political leader needs a good narrative. To win votes, tell voters where we were, what was wrong, what you’ll do to fix it, and the better future we’ll reach. People will light up: we want that. We agree something is wrong. We’ll give you a chance. We’ll punish you if you don’t fix it, but we’ll give you some time first.

Democracy involves a government winning a mandate from the public, and the public holding them account some years later. The government needs a narrative if it is to see that cycle all the way through to re-election.

Starmer has a minimal narrative. There is the £22 billion black hole he says he has found in the public finances. There is also, he writes, a “societal black hole” evident from rioters thinking they’d avoid prosecution. There is pollution, “the transport system is broken”, and where to begin with the NHS? He is fixing the foundations. And that is all he can tell us.

When builders fix the foundations nobody watches. They do not perform to an audience. The owner of the building will check now and again how its going, and properly when its finished. Politics works very differently.

To create economic growth Starmer’s government must motivate workers, investors, entrepreneurs. A narrative creates a period in which a group feel the will and commitment that is needed for them to help make change happen. Narrative gives the feeling of being on a journey, with a direction, not drift. People’s behaviour changes.

Instead, the UK public is left wondering how it feels about being told it’s in not just one black hole, but two. If the public finances and society itself are rotten, does this motivate people to join the job of fixing it? Rather, the effect is uncertainty: they do not know if Labour will get them out of this. What if it doesn’t? Will their living standards get even worse?

Labour was elected in July on a very low turnout, much of it more anti-Tory than pro-Labour. Labour said very little on what they would do in office, so voters weren’t electing out of their hopes in Labour’s promises. The risk is understandable. Labour knew any pre-election promises would be savaged by the media.

But there’s a reason political scientist Joseph Nye wrote about “whose story wins”. Those who stitch past, present and future together will shape the world. A narrator can possess skill and credibility but it all depends on whether the public are convinced. Anyone who follows politics knows that many times they aren’t.

Holding an unexpected press conference in the middle of an August day added to the uncertainty. Journalists do not expect such timing, nor for the leader to talk for half an hour, in a style the public were not expecting. Starmer claimed he was not being performative – but it was a performance, and it felt odd and bad.

The calculus is this. Starmer’s government has promised to make and enact policies to fix the nation’s problems. This comes with an unintended consequence. It puts the public in a position of uncertainty. There is an absolute unwillingness to offer the public a motivating narrative. Instead, only a message: trust the police commissioner.