Share this post:

Keir Starmer has suspended four Labour MPs — Rachael Maskell, Neil Duncan-Jordan, Brian Leishman and Chris Hinchliff — for refusing to vote for disability benefit cuts.

And with that, he’s sent an unmistakable message to both his party and the public:

Loyalty to the leader now trumps loyalty to Labour values.

This authoritarian move — delivered as MPs were packing up for the summer recess — has triggered fury within Labour ranks.

But more than that, it’s exposed a dangerous fault line running through the heart of the Starmer project: a leader more concerned with enforcing obedience than listening, learning, or leading with conviction.

At a time when millions are looking to Labour for hope, compassion and a new political culture, Starmer is offering only discipline, detachment, and punishment.

The “offence”: standing up for the disabled

These MPs weren’t suspended for disloyalty or disrepute.

They were suspended for having a conscience.

All four MPs voted against government welfare reforms that could push up to 800,000 disabled people into poverty.

That’s the real reason they were targeted.

Neil Duncan-Jordan — a new MP from Poole — was blunt:

“I couldn’t support making disabled people poorer.”

Rachael Maskell, the MP for York Central and a former shadow minister under Jeremy Corbyn, said:

“I have stood up for disabled people all my life… I am upset that we are in this place because I believe we are better than that as a party.”

Brian Leishman called it a moral obligation:

“I firmly believe that it is not my duty as an MP to make people poorer, especially those that have suffered because of austerity and its dire consequences.”

Chris Hinchliff, who helped organise a rebellion over environmental concerns in the government’s planning bill, said simply:

“I will continue to fight every day for the needs of my constituents. Nothing will change in how I engage with and represent those I was elected to serve.”

These are not rogue MPs.

They are representatives trying to give voice to the voiceless.

But in Starmer’s Labour, principled action is now met with silence, suspicion — and the sack.

‘A climate of fear’ and a collapse in morale

Inside the parliamentary Labour Party, the reaction has been scathing.

“This is now frankly a punishment beating,”

said one MP.

“They’ve learned nothing. There’s no sense of self-analysis or reflection about how they could have done better.”

Another warned:

“Labour MPs now return to their constituencies for the summer totally demoralised by these petty and vindictive actions… It’s dreadful politics and risks jeopardising the opportunity that such a massive majority presents.”

Instead of fostering unity, Starmer has fuelled resentment.

Instead of persuading MPs with arguments, he’s punished them with exclusion.

Steve Richards, host of the Rock ’n’ Roll Politics podcast, nailed the deeper problem:

“A strong leader wins arguments through the power of persuasion and a convincing policy agenda… not through withdrawing the whip having failed to persuade amidst a policy shambles.”

That’s exactly what this is: a policy shambles.

These suspensions come hot on the heels of a major government U-turn on welfare.

Rather than admit fault or open dialogue, Downing Street doubled down — using the disciplinary process as a cudgel to intimidate its own MPs.

One Labour Left MP said the decision came from Starmer’s office:

“It’s intended to create a climate of fear in the party… What those MPs did, what we all did, was to defend Labour values.”

Silencing conscience, sacking compassion

Alongside the four suspensions, Labour also stripped three MPs — Rosena Allin-Khan, Bell Ribeiro-Addy and Mohammad Yasin — of their government trade envoy roles for their own rebellions.

The move was described by one Labour MP as “particularly weird”, noting:

“There are Tory and Lib Dem trade envoys who vote against the government all the time and that’s OK, but a Labour one gets sacked for one rebellion? Make it make sense.”

“Make it make sense”, indeed.

Even trade union leaders are sounding the alarm. Steve Wright, General Secretary of the Fire Brigades Union, called the move:

“A dangerous and authoritarian act.”

This is not an isolated crackdown.

Last summer, Starmer suspended seven MPs — including John McDonnell, Richard Burgon, Rebecca Long-Bailey and Zarah Sultana — for voting to scrap the two-child benefit cap.

Some of those MPs have since had the whip restored.

Others remain in limbo, caught in a web of vague “discipline” and selective enforcement.

And Sultana explosively quit the party only weeks ago.

The result: an atmosphere where speaking out is dangerous and stepping out of line means banishment.

Clive Lewis put it best:

“We must strike a balance between collective discipline and open, principled debate — even in government. Silencing that role is a dangerous road for any democracy… What’s happened today risks making [voters] wonder if they’re simply getting more of the same.”

Disconnected and unaccountable

Perhaps most damning of all is how distant Starmer has remained from his own MPs — even the newly elected ones.

Victoria Derbyshire revealed that Brian Leishman, one of the suspended four, had never once spoken with the Prime Minister:

“‘I’ve not uttered a word with the Prime Minister,’”

he told her (that’s notwithstanding a couple of questions he has asked in Prime Minister’s Questions).

This is the hallmark of a top-down, bunker-style leadership — one that sees backbench MPs not as people with insight and purpose, but as voting machines.

Walk through the lobby when told.

Keep your head down.

Don’t ask questions.

It’s little wonder, then, that criticism from within is intensifying.

Jon Trickett was emphatic:

“It’s not a sin to stand up for the poor and disabled… We fight on for justice.”

Ian Byrne pointed out the real political danger:

“These decisions don’t show strength. They are damaging Labour’s support and risk rolling out the red carpet for Reform.”

And Zarah Sultana, now helping to build a breakaway Left party with Jeremy Corbyn, didn’t mince words:

“A year ago, Starmer and McSweeney suspended seven of us for voting to scrap the two-child benefit cap… Now they’re punishing MPs who opposed cuts that would push 800,000 disabled people into poverty. Insecure men. No vision. No compassion.”

The beginning of the end?

Rachael Maskell, in her dignified statement, said she hoped to “build a bridge” with the party and the Prime Minister.

She spoke of her lifelong commitment to equality, justice, and the Labour Party itself.

But when principled, long-serving Parliamentarians like Maskell — or newly elected MPs like Duncan-Jordan and Leishman — are cast out for standing up for society’s most marginalised, one has to ask:

Who exactly is Starmer’s Labour for?

It’s beginning to look like it isn’t for disabled people.

Nor for poor families.

Nor for those suffering under austerity.

Nor even for Labour MPs with the courage to stand up for them.

In the eyes of many members, Starmer’s Labour is fast becoming a machine: cold, closed, hierarchical, and obsessed with control.

MPs are expected to be numbers in a spreadsheet, not representatives with minds of their own.

And voters are seen as bodies for the ballot box, not people who demand — and deserve — real change.

If that perception hardens, if more MPs and voters begin to believe that Starmer’s leadership is about his advancement, not the country’s, then – for him – this could be more than a rebellion.

It could be the beginning of the end.

Share this post: