MPS put the public above all else –even their own safety

As a little girl I remember thinking that my dad was some kind of medical practitioner. His job title was “MP” for one thing – and occasionally, when we were in his Buckingham constituency at the weekend, he would hold “surgeries” in a private room downstairs, where local people would arrive looking unhappy or irate and leave looking less so. All of which confirmed my vague belief that he was in the business of helping people.

I thought back to that time when the news of Sir David Amess’s fatal stabbing broke on Friday: the astonishing amount of trust the system places in the people who – wielding a grievance, don’t forget – come face to face with their closest link to government and power; those public servants.

We’ve held fast to what Sir David called “a great British tradition” even as MPS became far more vulnerable over the decades, thanks to the viciousness of an online culture that has dehumanised public figures, promoted racism, misogyny and hate and infected everything, right down to the kind of language that is deemed acceptable in public life – yesterday Angela Rayner, the deputy Labour leader, faced renewed criticism for calling Conservatives “scum” last month. A dehumanising slur if ever there was one. Then there’s the fact that technology has facilitated evil doing from a simple, logistical perspective, in that it will tell you exactly where and when you can find your chosen victim.

The details of Sir David’s surgery were pinned to his Twitter account, after all, and broadcast to thousands, along with the direct line and email needed “to book an appointment”. So 25-year-old Ali Harbi Ali did just that, waiting in line outside Leigh-on-sea’s Methodist Church until it was his turn, and then allegedly stabbing Sir David 17 times in front of his constituents.

What makes the killing of a man my father described to me as “a salt of the earth local MP” still more tragic is that his devotion to his constituents clearly outweighed the risks he was well aware of. Indeed, in a book published less than a year ago, Ayes & Ears: A Survivor’s Guide to Westminster, the father of five had written about Jo Cox’s “barbaric” murder and the machete attack on the MP Nigel Jones, which resulted in the death of his aide, Andy Pennington. With something akin to resignation, Sir David concluded: “We all make ourselves readily available to our constituents and are often dealing with members of the public who have mental health problems. It could happen to any of us.”

Is it better to lose a great British tradition than another husband or wife, father or mother – and devoted public servant? Although new measures involving police protection are being considered by the Home Secretary, they can never hope to be adequate. Not without a ubiquitous police presence, metal detectors installed at the door to every surgery and thorough background checks. And then what of the ad hoc local events MPS attend? I remember being dragged to library openings and school fêtes, where constituents would accost my father freely.

I only found out later how intimate some of those discussions were, either out and about or in surgeries over the years. How, alongside the garden fence issues and concerns about crime statistics, there were constituents who saw their MPS as a cross between therapists and priests, and confided in them about divorces, custody battles, their own delinquent children and even the loss of muchloved pets. How sometimes they just wanted to be heard by someone “important”.

To safeguard MPS fully, you would have to take away the accessibility that is their raison d’être and confine them to Zoom boxes at the precise moment when confidence in the political system is at its lowest ebb.

Even before the pandemic, we were developing a loathing of our remote way of life. Emails or letters to officials and bureaucrats would remain unanswered and you didn’t stand a hope in hell of getting through to a human being at either your bank, energy supplier or phone company. Today, after the most remote 19 months we’re ever likely to live through and a period in which we’ve seen mental illness and suicide levels soar, human connection is more precious than ever.

From everything his family and friends have said about him, Sir David will have had that in mind as he steadfastly went about his daily duties on Friday. So we didn’t just lose our sixth MP since the Second World War that day, but a principle he paid for with his life.

I remember being dragged to events where people would accost my father