Labour Rocked: Epstein Scandal Brings Mandelson Down, Starmer Under Fire

Paul Riverbank, 2/2/2026Mandelson resigns amid Epstein scandal, throwing Labour into crisis and testing Starmer's leadership.

For years, whispers about Mandelson’s connections to Epstein floated through Westminster corridors—sometimes just as idle chitchat, sometimes more pointed. But this time was different. It wasn’t shadowy rumor but clanging front-page fact: private emails that mused on banker bonuses, foreign bank transfer data, and—most damaging—a photograph whose details were parsed with almost forensic zeal.

Mandelson’s own words, once so carefully chosen, now stretched under scrutiny. “I think the issue is that because I was a gay man in his circle I was kept separate from what he was doing in the sexual side of his life,” he told the BBC, in a flat, rehearsed tone. He went on to apologize—not for complicity, he stressed, but for being near a system that let women down. “If I had known... of course I would apologise. But I was not culpable, I was not knowledgeable of what he was doing.” Not everyone was satisfied.

Public curiosity gravitated toward the granular: among the files, a payment for an “osteopathy course”—£10,000 wired, records suggested, to Mandelson’s husband, just months after Epstein walked free from jail. When pressed, Mandelson professed no memory. “I have no documentation or recollection.” That did little to dampen speculation; politics has never been kind to holes in memories.

Then there were the emails, drier but no less damning for their lack of flourish. Epstein asks, Mandelson replies, about government policy—on bonuses, no less—while serving as business secretary: “Trying hard to amend as I explained to Jes last night. Treasury digging in but I am on case.” It could be read as bland context, sure—or as evidence of lines crossed, as many fevered column inches would soon argue.

If social media was quick to pass judgment, the Labour benches were faster still. John McDonnell, never Mandelson’s greatest admirer, declared himself vindicated. Others called for expulsion. The rules proved sticky: peerages are difficult to remove unless a conviction meets a specific standard. Still, Starmer was battered by critics for perceived hesitation and lack of resolve. Letting Mandelson resign, rather than ejecting him outright, was not the show of strength some wanted.

Mandelson’s resignation letter, less an act of contrition than damage limitation, admitted regret but denied wrongdoing. He wanted, he wrote, to avoid “further embarrassment” for the party he once helped steer to landslide victory.

Sir Trevor Phillips, speaking on Sky, summed up the sense of finality: “This, for Peter Mandelson, is the end. At best naïve and foolish, at worst greedy and duplicitous.” In fewer words, others privately agreed.

Legal questions linger. Some late-night pundits and Mandelson’s defenders have pointed at possible errors in the leaked documents: the odd US social security numbers, transfer records that look off. Even the Justice Department warned some files may not be entirely authentic. But scandal, once ignited, rarely respects footnotes. For Mandelson, the damage has the air of irrevocability.

For Labour, though, the moment is acid—forcing Starmer and allies to weigh transparency against loyalty, swift discipline against due process. The way forward is not obvious. If they’re seen to dither, the party risks bleeding trust; if they overreach, they alienate old hands and, perhaps, caution itself.

Politics, in the end, abhors empty space. In Mandelson’s downfall, every rival and commentator will seek lessons: in judgment, in the company one keeps, in just how quickly a career, once so deliberately constructed, can unravel. The dust will take time to settle. But in Parliament and beyond, the echoes—and the consequences for trust and leadership—may linger far longer than any single headline.

Sometimes, a single image is all it takes to upend a career that once moved quietly behind the velvet curtain of power. For Peter Mandelson—Labour grandee, spin doctor par excellence, builder of bridges, burner of old maps—it was less a gentle descent than a thunderclap. The headlines, ladled out over the weekend, never landed kindly; photos and financial records, tidbits plucked from a US Justice Department file, pointed squarely at the one name few in British politics wanted to see next to Jeffrey Epstein’s again: Lord Mandelson.For years, whispers about Mandelson’s connections to Epstein floated through Westminster corridors—sometimes just as idle chitchat, sometimes more pointed. But this time was different. It wasn’t shadowy rumor but clanging front-page fact: private emails that mused on banker bonuses, foreign bank transfer data, and—most damaging—a photograph whose details were parsed with almost forensic zeal.Mandelson’s own words, once so carefully chosen, now stretched under scrutiny. “I think the issue is that because I was a gay man in his circle I was kept separate from what he was doing in the sexual side of his life,” he told the BBC, in a flat, rehearsed tone. He went on to apologize—not for complicity, he stressed, but for being near a system that let women down. “If I had known... of course I would apologise. But I was not culpable, I was not knowledgeable of what he was doing.” Not everyone was satisfied.Public curiosity gravitated toward the granular: among the files, a payment for an “osteopathy course”—£10,000 wired, records suggested, to Mandelson’s husband, just months after Epstein walked free from jail. When pressed, Mandelson professed no memory. “I have no documentation or recollection.” That did little to dampen speculation; politics has never been kind to holes in memories.Then there were the emails, drier but no less damning for their lack of flourish. Epstein asks, Mandelson replies, about government policy—on bonuses, no less—while serving as business secretary: “Trying hard to amend as I explained to Jes last night. Treasury digging in but I am on case.” It could be read as bland context, sure—or as evidence of lines crossed, as many fevered column inches would soon argue.If social media was quick to pass judgment, the Labour benches were faster still. John McDonnell, never Mandelson’s greatest admirer, declared himself vindicated. Others called for expulsion. The rules proved sticky: peerages are difficult to remove unless a conviction meets a specific standard. Still, Starmer was battered by critics for perceived hesitation and lack of resolve. Letting Mandelson resign, rather than ejecting him outright, was not the show of strength some wanted.Mandelson’s resignation letter, less an act of contrition than damage limitation, admitted regret but denied wrongdoing. He wanted, he wrote, to avoid “further embarrassment” for the party he once helped steer to landslide victory.Sir Trevor Phillips, speaking on Sky, summed up the sense of finality: “This, for Peter Mandelson, is the end. At best naïve and foolish, at worst greedy and duplicitous.” In fewer words, others privately agreed.Legal questions linger. Some late-night pundits and Mandelson’s defenders have pointed at possible errors in the leaked documents: the odd US social security numbers, transfer records that look off. Even the Justice Department warned some files may not be entirely authentic. But scandal, once ignited, rarely respects footnotes. For Mandelson, the damage has the air of irrevocability.For Labour, though, the moment is acid—forcing Starmer and allies to weigh transparency against loyalty, swift discipline against due process. The way forward is not obvious. If they’re seen to dither, the party risks bleeding trust; if they overreach, they alienate old hands and, perhaps, caution itself.Politics, in the end, abhors empty space. In Mandelson’s downfall, every rival and commentator will seek lessons: in judgment, in the company one keeps, in just how quickly a career, once so deliberately constructed, can unravel. The dust will take time to settle. But in Parliament and beyond, the echoes—and the consequences for trust and leadership—may linger far longer than any single headline.