Politics – the cruelest of worlds?

I’ve avoided linking to the blog of Jane Griffiths in recent months despite much temptation. Her writing is candid and honest but drenched in bitterness and resentment. I’ve been tempted to link though, sometimes to express sympathy, sometimes just to urge her to let things go. I’m sure she would say that this is patronising and maybe even part of the machine exacting it’s revenge. My defence would be that it sometimes takes someone you don’t know, but knows what you are going through, to help you navigate in a storm.

Jane’s post about the late Fiona Jones highlights what a vulnerable and cruel world parliament can be for some members. Until you actually get elected and start doing the job, it is impossible to know how you will take to it. For some, it must feel like they are spinning out of orbit.

I remember one (now very successful minister) telling me that he was miserable every single day for the first two years after entering parliament. The first week of leaving Mrs Watson and our newly born baby boy to spend four days in the Government Whips Office was a personal low for me. Not an hour went by where I didn’t feel like resigning (no wise cracks please). One colleague’s child wrote to the Prime Minister asking him if he could see his dad again. Another tells a story about two of his kids grabbing each of his legs to prohibit him leaving for London on a Monday morning.

Let me also say before the obvious commenters choose to misinterprit my words that I know that there are many, many more perilous and taxing jobs. My central point is that for some, a political life can be the loneliest of professions. Unless you’re Peter Mandelson, you are not expected to cry in front of the camera.

So poor Fiona Jones. I never met her but my thoughts and prayers are with her husband and children.

And Jane – of course people care – even for you.