Lord Jackson of Peterborough was former Conservative MP for Peterborough.
All around us, the last vestiges of New Labour appear to be collapsing.
The movement’s decline is rooted in the judgment of its principal architects — foremost among them, Peter Mandelson. The career of the so-called “Prince of Darkness” has been characterised by repeated misjudgments, culminating in his decision to maintain a close personal relationship with the convicted paedophile and sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein after his conviction.
As the scrutiny intensifies, it is not only Mandelson’s judgment that warrants examination, but also that of those who continue to shield him. The Prime Minister has so far been unwilling to acknowledge that the fundamental lapse in appointing Mandelson to Washington was his own. Instead, prominent figures associated with the New Labour era have been sacrificed in an effort to prevent an increasingly restive parliamentary party from forcing him out. At one point Jonathan Powell — the sole remaining Blair-era figure in Number 10 — was said to be considering his position.
Yet one senior figure has thus far escaped sustained scrutiny: Lord Falconer. In many respects, he is the last man of New Labour standing.
Falconer and Mandelson were pillars of the New Labour project, trusted “fixers” at the heart of the Blair government. Their closeness was made explicit in 2008 when Mandelson returned to government as Business Secretary and was elevated to the House of Lords. Falconer, alongside Baroness Jay of Paddington, formally introduced him — an unmistakable act of endorsement, particularly striking given Mandelson’s history of controversy.
That endorsement was all the more troubling because, at the time, Mandelson was embroiled in fresh controversy after holidaying on the yacht of Russian billionaire Oleg Deripaska, a major aluminium exporter to the European Union. This episode was especially contentious given that Mandelson had previously served as European Commissioner for Trade, during which time EU tariffs on aluminium were reduced by 50 per cent.
This pattern should not surprise us. When Mandelson was first forced to resign from the Cabinet for failing to disclose a £373,000 loan from a fellow minister to purchase his home in Notting Hill, it was Lord Falconer who did not inform the Prime Minister. Despite having once shared a flat with Tony Blair, Falconer remained silent, leaving the Prime Minister — in Andrew Rawnsley’s account — “in a state of complete ignorance”.
More recently, as further troubling details of Mandelson’s relationship with Epstein emerged, Lord Falconer appeared on Sky News to promote the Assisted Dying Bill. When questioned about his friend, he repeatedly declined to engage, deflecting the presenter’s inquiries eight times. He went further still, stating that he was “not remotely embarrassed”.
The public reaction has been visceral, and understandably so. Once again, a senior figure responsible for steering life-and-death legislation through Parliament declined to address legitimate questions about the judgment of a close associate.
This is not the first time Lord Falconer has remained silent regarding the conduct of a friend. That silence carried particular weight in the context of the Assisted Dying Bill.
Legislation of this gravity rests not only on statutory safeguards and careful drafting, but on the judgment of those entrusted to design and oversee it. The Bill assumes that those in authority will be able to detect coercion, recognise subtle pressure, and intervene where something does not sit right — even when all formal criteria appear to have been satisfied.
Yet Lord Falconer’s conduct suggests a consistent reluctance to scrutinise close allies, even when scrutiny is plainly warranted. Legitimate concern appears to be treated as an inconvenience.
This aversion to scrutiny is not confined to personal relationships. As Secretary of State for Constitutional Affairs, Lord Falconer sought to make it easier for public bodies to refuse requests under the Freedom of Information Act. He proposed measures allowing government departments to reject requests costing more than £600 in Whitehall and £450 elsewhere in the public sector.
This is the same man who has been guiding legislation that would permit an assisted death without requiring families to be informed. He has, remarkably, dismissed concerns about human error in legislation affecting some of the most vulnerable members of society.
The same attitude is reflected in the removal of key safeguards from the Bill and in reported threats to use procedural manoeuvres to frustrate efforts by fellow peers to strengthen and scrutinise what is among the most consequential legislation currently before Parliament.
Suicide — assisted or otherwise — is irreversible. When safeguards fail, there is no remedy. In such circumstances, Parliament is not merely entitled but obliged to ask whether the judgment on display is sufficient to underpin a law of this magnitude.
While Mandelson failed to confront the abuse of vulnerable girls by Epstein, Falconer’s Bill — as drafted — risks disproportionately affecting a different cohort of vulnerable young women, particularly those with eating disorders.
The House of Lords has a moral duty to subject this legislation to rigorous scrutiny — a duty Lord Falconer has too often appeared reluctant to embrace. We saw this in his rejection of amendments to remove eligibility from disabled people who are homeless, young, pregnant, or in prison. If his moral compass, and that of his closest allies, is demonstrably misaligned, vulnerable people should not be asked to bear the risk of imperfect law.
Trust in public life is not an entitlement. It is earned. On the evidence before us, the public is entitled to question whether that trust is being misplaced.
As the New Labour project fades into history, the first step toward restoring confidence would be to completely withdraw the Assisted Dying Bill.
Lord Jackson of Peterborough was former Conservative MP for Peterborough.
All around us, the last vestiges of New Labour appear to be collapsing.
The movement’s decline is rooted in the judgment of its principal architects — foremost among them, Peter Mandelson. The career of the so-called “Prince of Darkness” has been characterised by repeated misjudgments, culminating in his decision to maintain a close personal relationship with the convicted paedophile and sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein after his conviction.
As the scrutiny intensifies, it is not only Mandelson’s judgment that warrants examination, but also that of those who continue to shield him. The Prime Minister has so far been unwilling to acknowledge that the fundamental lapse in appointing Mandelson to Washington was his own. Instead, prominent figures associated with the New Labour era have been sacrificed in an effort to prevent an increasingly restive parliamentary party from forcing him out. At one point Jonathan Powell — the sole remaining Blair-era figure in Number 10 — was said to be considering his position.
Yet one senior figure has thus far escaped sustained scrutiny: Lord Falconer. In many respects, he is the last man of New Labour standing.
Falconer and Mandelson were pillars of the New Labour project, trusted “fixers” at the heart of the Blair government. Their closeness was made explicit in 2008 when Mandelson returned to government as Business Secretary and was elevated to the House of Lords. Falconer, alongside Baroness Jay of Paddington, formally introduced him — an unmistakable act of endorsement, particularly striking given Mandelson’s history of controversy.
That endorsement was all the more troubling because, at the time, Mandelson was embroiled in fresh controversy after holidaying on the yacht of Russian billionaire Oleg Deripaska, a major aluminium exporter to the European Union. This episode was especially contentious given that Mandelson had previously served as European Commissioner for Trade, during which time EU tariffs on aluminium were reduced by 50 per cent.
This pattern should not surprise us. When Mandelson was first forced to resign from the Cabinet for failing to disclose a £373,000 loan from a fellow minister to purchase his home in Notting Hill, it was Lord Falconer who did not inform the Prime Minister. Despite having once shared a flat with Tony Blair, Falconer remained silent, leaving the Prime Minister — in Andrew Rawnsley’s account — “in a state of complete ignorance”.
More recently, as further troubling details of Mandelson’s relationship with Epstein emerged, Lord Falconer appeared on Sky News to promote the Assisted Dying Bill. When questioned about his friend, he repeatedly declined to engage, deflecting the presenter’s inquiries eight times. He went further still, stating that he was “not remotely embarrassed”.
The public reaction has been visceral, and understandably so. Once again, a senior figure responsible for steering life-and-death legislation through Parliament declined to address legitimate questions about the judgment of a close associate.
This is not the first time Lord Falconer has remained silent regarding the conduct of a friend. That silence carried particular weight in the context of the Assisted Dying Bill.
Legislation of this gravity rests not only on statutory safeguards and careful drafting, but on the judgment of those entrusted to design and oversee it. The Bill assumes that those in authority will be able to detect coercion, recognise subtle pressure, and intervene where something does not sit right — even when all formal criteria appear to have been satisfied.
Yet Lord Falconer’s conduct suggests a consistent reluctance to scrutinise close allies, even when scrutiny is plainly warranted. Legitimate concern appears to be treated as an inconvenience.
This aversion to scrutiny is not confined to personal relationships. As Secretary of State for Constitutional Affairs, Lord Falconer sought to make it easier for public bodies to refuse requests under the Freedom of Information Act. He proposed measures allowing government departments to reject requests costing more than £600 in Whitehall and £450 elsewhere in the public sector.
This is the same man who has been guiding legislation that would permit an assisted death without requiring families to be informed. He has, remarkably, dismissed concerns about human error in legislation affecting some of the most vulnerable members of society.
The same attitude is reflected in the removal of key safeguards from the Bill and in reported threats to use procedural manoeuvres to frustrate efforts by fellow peers to strengthen and scrutinise what is among the most consequential legislation currently before Parliament.
Suicide — assisted or otherwise — is irreversible. When safeguards fail, there is no remedy. In such circumstances, Parliament is not merely entitled but obliged to ask whether the judgment on display is sufficient to underpin a law of this magnitude.
While Mandelson failed to confront the abuse of vulnerable girls by Epstein, Falconer’s Bill — as drafted — risks disproportionately affecting a different cohort of vulnerable young women, particularly those with eating disorders.
The House of Lords has a moral duty to subject this legislation to rigorous scrutiny — a duty Lord Falconer has too often appeared reluctant to embrace. We saw this in his rejection of amendments to remove eligibility from disabled people who are homeless, young, pregnant, or in prison. If his moral compass, and that of his closest allies, is demonstrably misaligned, vulnerable people should not be asked to bear the risk of imperfect law.
Trust in public life is not an entitlement. It is earned. On the evidence before us, the public is entitled to question whether that trust is being misplaced.
As the New Labour project fades into history, the first step toward restoring confidence would be to completely withdraw the Assisted Dying Bill.