IS STARMER LYING ABOUT SPYING?

In the hallowed halls of British justice, a scandal of seismic proportions has erupted, one that strikes at the very heart of national security. A high-profile criminal case against two men accused of spying for China has collapsed, not due to lack of evidence, but because the UK government under Sir Keir Starmer refused to officially designate China as a threat to national security. This decision, as revealed by Director of Public Prosecutions Stephen Parkinson, prevented prosecutors from securing the vital testimony needed to proceed. It is a move that has prompted rare and damning interventions from the nation's most esteemed figures in intelligence and civil service.

Sir Richard Dearlove, the former head of MI6, has described the affair as a "mess" that is profoundly damaging to Starmer's credibility. Lord Simon Case, the ex-Cabinet Secretary and head of the Civil Service, has gone further, accusing the government of choosing a "path of appeasement" that signals Britain's decline in the face of Beijing's aggression. These are not idle whispers from the fringes; they are grave indictments from guardians of the realm who have seen threats evolve over decades. Yet, as the Prime Minister shifts blame to the preceding Conservative administration, a darker question lingers: why would a leader with Starmer's prosecutorial pedigree orchestrate such a self-sabotaging capitulation?

The refusal to label China a security threat is no mere oversight. It echoes a pattern of concessions that favour Beijing at Britain's expense, raising profound suspicions about what leverage the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) might hold over key figures in the Labour establishment. Consider Barry Gardiner, a fellow Labour MP who once chaired the now-defunct Chinese in Britain All-Party Parliamentary Group. Between 2015 and 2021, Gardiner accepted over £500,000 in donations from Christine Lee, a lawyer later identified by MI5 as an agent of the CCP attempting to influence Parliament. Though Gardiner claims he informed security services and gained no political advantage, the sheer scale of the funding – ostensibly for office staffing – beggars belief. What favours, unspoken and untraceable, might such largesse buy in the corridors of power?

This is not an isolated incident. Jonathan Powell, Starmer's newly appointed National Security Adviser and Tony Blair's former chief of staff, has his own troubling connections to CCP-linked entities. Just months before assuming his role, Powell held private meetings in Beijing with officials from the China People's Association for Friendship with Foreign Countries (CPAFFC), a body widely regarded as a "malign" front for Beijing's influence operations. These encounters, including discussions with high-ranking CCP figures, occurred amid warnings from Western intelligence about the group's role in co-opting elites. Powell's involvement through his UK-based charity, Inter Mediate, only deepens the unease, suggesting a revolving door between diplomacy and dalliance with authoritarian interests.

Nor does the rot stop there. Lord Peter Mandelson, the Labour grandee and recent US ambassador, has faced scrutiny over his extensive business ties to Chinese state-backed firms. A dossier alleging his advisory role with China International Capital Corporation (CICC), a CCP-influenced investment bank, was reportedly handed to the FBI, casting shadows over his vetting by MI6. Sources indicate these links contributed to vetting failures, yet Mandelson's proximity to Starmer persists, fuelling speculation of a network insulated from accountability. In a government already battered by daily scandals – from broken manifesto pledges to policy U-turns – such associations paint a picture of systemic vulnerability to foreign meddling.

Perhaps the most egregious example of this apparent obeisance is the Chagos Islands deal, a sovereign surrender that reeks of geopolitical naivety or worse. In May 2025, Starmer finalised an agreement handing the archipelago to Mauritius – a nation deeply indebted to China and aligned with its Belt and Road ambitions – while leasing back the vital Diego Garcia military base for £101 million annually over 99 years. Official estimates now reveal the true cost could balloon to £35 billion, ten times the figure initially touted by the Prime Minister. The Chagossian people, displaced decades ago and long advocating for their right to return under British sovereignty, have decried the move as a betrayal, their voices drowned out by Whitehall's haste. Why yield strategic assets to a CCP proxy without a public mandate, saddling taxpayers with an astronomical bill? The optics are damning: a Prime Minister, once the DPP, presiding over the erosion of Britain's defences while cosying up to the very regime his own officials decry as a threat.

As these threads intertwine, one cannot escape the gnawing sense of a grand design concealed in plain sight. Starmer's administration, with its cadre of China-connected insiders, seems less a bulwark against authoritarian encroachment and more a conduit for it. The media – from the BBC to The Guardian – remains conspicuously mute or mired in deflection, their silence a tacit endorsement of the status quo. In this rigged theatre of power, where scrutiny evaporates like morning mist, the public is left to ponder a chilling truth: if not corruption, then what unholy bargain drives such repeated concessions? The shadows lengthen, and the question hangs unanswered – what exactly does Beijing hold over Sir Keir Starmer?