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A government under fire, a powerful campaign of resistance, and a new review of disability benefit eligibility.
It has all the makings of a victory — but it’s not.
The Timms Review, despite how it’s being portrayed in the media and by some MPs, is not a safeguard against the proposed £5 billion in cuts to health and disability benefits.
It is, at best, a pause. At worst, it’s a strategic delay designed to give the illusion of listening while buying time to repackage and reintroduce the same cuts with a veneer of consultation.
Disabled people and their organisations have been here before.
They know what happens when power listens performatively rather than substantively.
There has been no promise to scrap the cuts — only to “review” how eligibility is assessed. That’s not victory; it’s deferral.
The strategic move: delay, rebrand, disarm
What governments can’t push through in a storm, they reintroduce in a fog.
This is a classic tactic: delay implementation, rename the process, and involve just enough stakeholder engagement to claim legitimacy.
The proposed cuts were introduced stealthily, using parliamentary sleight-of-hand to avoid full scrutiny.
Then came public outcry, legal challenge threats, and fierce campaigning.
The result? The government now offers us a review.
But crucially, ministers have not abandoned their cost-saving agenda.
The fiscal assumptions behind the cuts remain baked into future budgets.
The intent is intact.
Only the packaging has changed.
Co-production v co-opting
Much has been made of the promise to “co-produce” the review with disabled people and their organisations.
On paper, that sounds progressive. In practice, it risks being a tool for co-option.
Real co-production means shared power: jointly identifying problems, co-developing solutions, and deciding outcomes together.
It’s not a better consultation or a friendlier focus group.
It’s not being allowed in the room only to be outvoted or sidelined.
The government says it will work with “disabled people and the organisations that represent them” — through a group of 12.
But how will those 12 be selected?
Who will they represent?
Who will be left out?
We have seen before how tokenistic inclusion is used to justify policies that harm the very people consulted.
Without accountability, transparency, and structural influence, this is not co-production. It’s window dressing.
The cuts are not off the table
The review does not cancel the cuts. There has been no legislative reversal, no funding reinstated, no public commitment to maintaining current support levels.
All that’s happened is that the DWP has said it will “work with stakeholders” to assess how PIP and Universal Credit health top-ups are delivered.
That’s not a climbdown — it’s a regrouping.
The Treasury still expects savings.
The pressure to cut remains.
The mechanisms may change, but the goals are still in play.
Unless the government publicly commits to upholding or expanding support, any review is just a roadmap to cuts by another route.
Who gets a say? The politics of participation
The disabled community is not monolithic.
Yet too often, government engagement is selective.
Larger charities with established relationships get invited.
Grassroots organisations, especially those representing multiply-marginalised people, get left out.
Intersectionality is not optional.
When Black universal credit claimants are 58 per cent more likely to be sanctioned than white claimants, when disabled migrants face impossible barriers, when class and geography deepen isolation, you cannot design policy without explicitly addressing these disparities.
A panel of 12 cannot represent a community as broad and diverse as disabled people unless it is intentionally inclusive and accountable.
Without that, the process is inherently flawed.
Why trust is broken — and should be
This government tried to force through the biggest cuts to disability support in a generation without consultation. It did so using legislative tricks, dodging parliamentary scrutiny and side-stepping impacted communities.
Now we are asked to trust them. To enter the process in good faith. But trust must be earned, not demanded. And critically, participation does not mean endorsement. Disabled people’s organisations may engage with the review, but they are not beholden to its outcomes.
The government cannot weaponise our good faith against us. If the process is hollow, we have every right — and a duty — to walk away.
What would genuine reform look like?
The problem isn’t just the cuts. It’s the system itself. A punitive, dehumanising, often traumatising process that treats disabled people as fraud risks instead of human beings.
Real reform would mean:
- Abolishing the points-based PIP assessment model.
- Ending private contractor involvement.
- Building a system based on the social model of disability and human rights frameworks.
- Linking benefits policy with housing, care, education, and employment — recognising the full picture of disabled lives.
- Enshrining co-production into law, not policy.
That’s not what’s on the table now.
But it’s what disabled people must fight for.
The media’s role: mis-framing the review
Headlines calling this review a “victory” or a “concession” are misleading.
They suggest the threat has passed, the movement has succeeded, and the government is backing down.
This framing is dangerous.
It weakens resistance by implying the battle is over.
It deflates organising energy.
It narrows public understanding of what’s really at stake.
The media must be held accountable for the role they play in shaping this narrative.
And disabled people must be louder in countering them.
What campaigners should push for — right now
- Demand clarity: Will the review’s findings bind government action?
- Demand transparency: Who’s on the panel? Where will the minutes be posted? What drafts are being shared?
- Refuse to rubber-stamp: Participation does not equal consent. Organisations must reserve the right to disown the process.
- Stay mobilised: Cuts could be reintroduced under a different name. disabled people must be ready.
- Build alliances: Across class, race, geography, immigration status. Solidarity must be structural, not symbolic.
The fight is far from over
The Timms Review is a battlefield, not a peace treaty.
It is not a guarantee of safety, but a space of contest.
If we treat it as a solution, we risk losing everything.
If we treat it as a tactic, we might still win.
But let us not be fooled: the cuts are not gone.
The danger has not passed.
The participation of disabled peoplemust be strategic, their resistance unwavering, and their message clear:
“We will not allow our voices to be used as cover for our own harm.”
This is not the end.
It’s just the next round.
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The Timms Review won’t save you: the real threat behind PIP reform
Share this post:
A government under fire, a powerful campaign of resistance, and a new review of disability benefit eligibility.
It has all the makings of a victory — but it’s not.
The Timms Review, despite how it’s being portrayed in the media and by some MPs, is not a safeguard against the proposed £5 billion in cuts to health and disability benefits.
It is, at best, a pause. At worst, it’s a strategic delay designed to give the illusion of listening while buying time to repackage and reintroduce the same cuts with a veneer of consultation.
Disabled people and their organisations have been here before.
They know what happens when power listens performatively rather than substantively.
There has been no promise to scrap the cuts — only to “review” how eligibility is assessed. That’s not victory; it’s deferral.
The strategic move: delay, rebrand, disarm
What governments can’t push through in a storm, they reintroduce in a fog.
This is a classic tactic: delay implementation, rename the process, and involve just enough stakeholder engagement to claim legitimacy.
The proposed cuts were introduced stealthily, using parliamentary sleight-of-hand to avoid full scrutiny.
Then came public outcry, legal challenge threats, and fierce campaigning.
The result? The government now offers us a review.
But crucially, ministers have not abandoned their cost-saving agenda.
The fiscal assumptions behind the cuts remain baked into future budgets.
The intent is intact.
Only the packaging has changed.
Co-production v co-opting
Much has been made of the promise to “co-produce” the review with disabled people and their organisations.
On paper, that sounds progressive. In practice, it risks being a tool for co-option.
Real co-production means shared power: jointly identifying problems, co-developing solutions, and deciding outcomes together.
It’s not a better consultation or a friendlier focus group.
It’s not being allowed in the room only to be outvoted or sidelined.
The government says it will work with “disabled people and the organisations that represent them” — through a group of 12.
But how will those 12 be selected?
Who will they represent?
Who will be left out?
We have seen before how tokenistic inclusion is used to justify policies that harm the very people consulted.
Without accountability, transparency, and structural influence, this is not co-production. It’s window dressing.
The cuts are not off the table
The review does not cancel the cuts. There has been no legislative reversal, no funding reinstated, no public commitment to maintaining current support levels.
All that’s happened is that the DWP has said it will “work with stakeholders” to assess how PIP and Universal Credit health top-ups are delivered.
That’s not a climbdown — it’s a regrouping.
The Treasury still expects savings.
The pressure to cut remains.
The mechanisms may change, but the goals are still in play.
Unless the government publicly commits to upholding or expanding support, any review is just a roadmap to cuts by another route.
Who gets a say? The politics of participation
The disabled community is not monolithic.
Yet too often, government engagement is selective.
Larger charities with established relationships get invited.
Grassroots organisations, especially those representing multiply-marginalised people, get left out.
Intersectionality is not optional.
When Black universal credit claimants are 58 per cent more likely to be sanctioned than white claimants, when disabled migrants face impossible barriers, when class and geography deepen isolation, you cannot design policy without explicitly addressing these disparities.
A panel of 12 cannot represent a community as broad and diverse as disabled people unless it is intentionally inclusive and accountable.
Without that, the process is inherently flawed.
Why trust is broken — and should be
This government tried to force through the biggest cuts to disability support in a generation without consultation. It did so using legislative tricks, dodging parliamentary scrutiny and side-stepping impacted communities.
Now we are asked to trust them. To enter the process in good faith. But trust must be earned, not demanded. And critically, participation does not mean endorsement. Disabled people’s organisations may engage with the review, but they are not beholden to its outcomes.
The government cannot weaponise our good faith against us. If the process is hollow, we have every right — and a duty — to walk away.
What would genuine reform look like?
The problem isn’t just the cuts. It’s the system itself. A punitive, dehumanising, often traumatising process that treats disabled people as fraud risks instead of human beings.
Real reform would mean:
That’s not what’s on the table now.
But it’s what disabled people must fight for.
The media’s role: mis-framing the review
Headlines calling this review a “victory” or a “concession” are misleading.
They suggest the threat has passed, the movement has succeeded, and the government is backing down.
This framing is dangerous.
It weakens resistance by implying the battle is over.
It deflates organising energy.
It narrows public understanding of what’s really at stake.
The media must be held accountable for the role they play in shaping this narrative.
And disabled people must be louder in countering them.
What campaigners should push for — right now
The fight is far from over
The Timms Review is a battlefield, not a peace treaty.
It is not a guarantee of safety, but a space of contest.
If we treat it as a solution, we risk losing everything.
If we treat it as a tactic, we might still win.
But let us not be fooled: the cuts are not gone.
The danger has not passed.
The participation of disabled peoplemust be strategic, their resistance unwavering, and their message clear:
This is not the end.
It’s just the next round.
Share this post:
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