So You Want to Be a Politician E-Book

• Herausgeber: Biteback Publishing
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 456

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2011

Beschreibung

So You Want to be a Politician is a must read for any first time candidate or anyone looking to put together and run an effective campaign at any level of public life. This accessible, practical guide offers common sense advice for almost any scenario. Featuring contributions and advice from some of the leading names in contemporary British campaigning, So You Want to be a Politician is an essential resource that some of today's serving politicians could make good use of.

Leseprobe

So You Want to Be a Politician

edited by Shane Greer

Contents

Title page

Acknowledgements

Part I: So you want to be a politician

1 In defence of politics Shane Greer

2 What it’s like to be a politician Andrew MacKinlay

3 What it takes to be a politician

What it takes to be a councillor Nick Cuff

What it takes to be an MLA Simon Hamilton

What it takes to be an AM Bethan Jenkins

What it takes to be an MSP Gil Paterson

What it takes to be an MEP Syed Kamall

What it takes to be an MP Tom Harris

Part II: Getting selected

4 The process

Getting selected for the Labour Party Charlie Mansell

Getting selected for the Conservative Party Andy Wasley

Getting selected for the Liberal Democrats Elaine Bagshaw

5 Knowledge is power Janice Small

6 Surviving selection panels Robert Ashman

7 Open primaries? Jessica Asato

Part III: On the campaign trail

8 Developing a campaign plan David Canzini

9 How to choose a campaign manager Tom Hirons

10 Building an army Katy Diggory

11 Dress for success

Women Shirley Biggs

Men James Hibbert

12 The art of engaging with voters Melanie Batley

13 Going negative James McGrath

14 Effective photo opportunities Shane Greer

15 Writing winning literature Hopi Sen

16 Politics 2.0 Mark Pack

17 Getting out the vote Luke Akehurst

18 How to win or lose with grace Stephen Twigg

19 Surviving life in the fast lane Melanie Batley

Part IV: Raising money

20 Personal solicitation Shelley Tidmore

21 Direct mail fundraising Shane Greer

22 Fundraising events Chris Younce

23 Online fundraising Jag Singh

Part V: Life in the spotlight: Dealing with the media

24 Navigating the media Paul Richards

25 Dealing with journalists Paul Richards

26 Dealing with bloggers Phil Hendren

27 Getting in the news Sarah MacKinlay

28 Developing a media strategy Ed Staite

Part VI: Life in the spotlight: The perfect presentation

29 Public speaking John Shosky

30 Mastering debates John Shosky

31 Surviving in the studio Shane Greer

32 Effective networking Jonathan Sheppard

33 Your first six months

Your first six months as a councillor Louisa Thomson

Your first six months as an MLA John McCallister

Your first six months as an AM Eleanor Burnham

Your first six months as an MSP John Lamont

Your first six months as an MEP Mary Honeyball

Your first six months as an MP Douglas Carswell

So you still want to be a politician Shane Greer

Copyright

Acknowledgements

Putting this book together has been a labour of love. But without the incredible generosity of the many authors who joined me in this endeavour, it would quite simply never have taken form. With that in mind, I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to Luke Akehurst, Jessica Asato, Robert Ashman, Elaine Bagshaw, Melanie Batley, Shirley Biggs, Eleanor Burnham AM, David Canzini, Douglas Carswell MP, Nick Cuff, Katy Diggory, Simon Hamilton MLA, Tom Harris MP, Phil Hendren, James Hibbert, Tom Hirons, Mary Honeyball MEP, Bethan Jenkins AM, Syed Kamall MEP, John Lamont MSP, John McCallister MLA, James McGrath, Andrew MacKinlay MP, Sarah MacKinlay, Charlie Mansell, Mark Pack, Gil Paterson MSP, Paul Richards, Hopi Sen, Jonathan Sheppard, John Shosky, Jag Singh, Janice Small, Ed Staite, Louisa Thomson, Shelley Tidmore, Stephen Twigg, Andy Wasley and Chris Younce. And although he is not one of the authors, it would be remiss of me not to thank Rodney Corrigan, whose assistance in identifying authors from the Northern Ireland Assembly was much needed.

I would also like to thank my good friend Iain Dale for agreeing to publish this book and for his constructive criticism throughout. As ever, his advice and guidance has been invaluable.

I owe incredible thanks to my wife, Brittany, who had to put up with so much of our time together being dominated by this book. Rarely did an evening or weekend go by where I wasn’t either editing those chapters submitted by other authors or writing chapters of my own. Her patience speaks volumes, and I can’t thank her enough.

Finally, I’d like to thank my parents for constantly reminding me when growing up that you can only achieve what you want if you work to make it happen. This book, as with so many other endeavours in my life thus far, is testament to that philosophy.

Part I

So you want to be a politician

1

In defence of politics

Shane Greer

It’s always been easy to bash politics and politicians. But, at the moment, it’s fashionable. It’s the new black. It’s vogue. One need only flick on the television or open a newspaper to experience the vitriol being directed at our elected representatives and our democratic system as a whole. ‘They’re all in it for what they can get’, we’re told. ‘They’re completely removed from reality’, we hear. ‘They’re all as bad as each other’, we’re led to believe. And believe it we do, in tremendous numbers. An ICM poll for the BBC News Channel back in 2005 found that eight out of ten voters didn’t trust politicians to tell the truth, 87 per cent felt that politicians did not keep the promises they made in advance of general elections, and an incredible 92 per cent said that politicians never gave a straight answer. Fast forward to 2009 and the situation hadn’t got any better; in fact it had got worse. According to an Ipsos MORI poll for the Observer newspaper only 13 per cent of people trusted politicians to tell the truth. What’s more, politicians were seen as the least trustworthy of all professions (including lawyers, who so often are the butt of jokes pertaining to dishonesty).

To say that politics is in crisis is an understatement on a par with saying that Muhammad Ali was a pretty decent boxer. Public confidence in the British political system could barely be lower, and trust of politicians has been all but destroyed. Indeed, if politics were a business and voters were its customers, it’s almost certain that, by now, it would either be bankrupt or propped up with a government bailout.

That we find ourselves in this calamitous situation is hardly surprising, though. We live in the age of 24-hour media. An age in which negative stories sell and positive stories get cast aside. Why talk about the politicians diligently working on behalf of their constituents when there’s another politician who’s abused their position for personal gain or enjoyed the company of some rent boys?

But to blame the media would be wrong. To do so would be to ignore the fact that the media ultimately succeeds or fails (even the BBC) on its ability to satisfy its audience. And if the audience is excited more by negative stories than positive ones, what media outlet in its right mind wouldn’t give them what they want?

But let’s be clear about something. While it might be tempting to blame the audience, to bemoan their obsession with negativity, the simple fact is that we politicos are no different. Can any of us honestly say that we didn’t enjoy the last story about a member of another party running into difficulty? Can we honestly say we haven’t navigated to the BBC News website and found ourselves drawn immediately to the story about natural disaster in a far off land? After all, who doesn’t like a juicy story they can get their teeth into? And let’s not forget one of the most fundamental rules of democratic politics; you, the aspirant candidate, don’t get to decide what the voters are interested in. They hold the power.

However much we might like voters to look up to their elected representatives, to hold them in high regard, and to view them as generally honest and decent people, it simply isn’t going to happen. If you want to become a politician you have to accept that.

But never forget, for all its detractors, politics remains a noble endeavour. Perhaps ironically, given the effect his decision to go into Iraq had on the public’s trust in politicians, it is Tony Blair who best reminded us of the inherent value and virtue of our parliamentary democracy when concluding his final Prime Minister’s Questions:

Some may belittle politics. But we know, who are engaged in it, that it is where people stand tall. And, although I know it has its many harsh contentions, it is still the arena that sets the heart beating a little faster. And if it is, on occasions, the place of low skulduggery, it is more often the place for the pursuit of noble causes.

Those who rail against our political system forget that without politics, and specifically democratic politics, decisions would be taken by force. The Melian principle would come to characterise our way of life; with the strong doing what they can and the weak suffering what they must.

All too readily history teaches us the lessons of dictatorship; peoples enslaved, rights curtailed where they are not obliterated, the rule of law replaced by the rule of force, the persecution of minorities, the invasion and subjugation of sovereign nations, the extermination of entire social, religious, ethnic and national groups, the imprisonment of political opponents, the presumption of guilt rather than innocence, and the sacrifice of liberty at the altar of conformity.

As citizens of a liberal democracy it’s all too easy for us to forget how rare and hard won the freedoms we enjoy really are. Stories of genocide and totalitarianism exist in the abstract. Far from being tales of individual tragedy, they become little more than matters of statistics; involving numbers so high as to remove utterly any hope that their real meaning will penetrate our relatively privileged existence. But it is ultimately the individual human stories behind the statistics that serve as a stark reminder of how privileged we really are. One such example found expression in an article by Professor Mahmoud Bassiouni, who chaired the Commission of Experts to Investigate the War Crimes and Other Violations of International Humanitarian Law in the Former Yugoslavia:

A man on crutches whose legs seemed to have been broken came over to see us yesterday … When the war broke out, his neighbourhood became Serb controlled … One day, a group of about half a dozen young thugs … came over and hauled the man away from his café to the police station. They tied him up on the floor … they then proceeded to take their rifle butts and break both his legs … While he was lying there on the floor with two broken legs, the thugs went and got his wife and two daughters. They told the wife in the presence of her husband and her two daughters that unless she did everything they wanted, they would rape the two girls. The mother, in order to protect her daughters, complied and submitted to degrading and humiliating sexual acts. Then when they were finished with her, they slit her throat. While she was withering on the floor dying, they raped the two girls in the presence of their stepfather. Then … they slit the throats of the two girls. Next, in perhaps the worst possible cruelty, they took the man and dumped him out in the streets … This morning I discovered that he had committed suicide during the night, leaving only the message: ‘I lived long enough to tell my story to someone in the hope that it will be told in the future.’

That we as citizens of a Western liberal democracy find such brutality incomprehensible speaks volumes of the virtue of the political system we have come to take for granted.

Is our system perfect? Of course not. Are all our politicians paragons of virtue? Hardly. But for all our system’s flaws and our politicians’ shortcomings, we still wake up in the morning and find that the battle to get to No. 10 is fought with words rather than weapons. That alone is something we should be proud and fiercely protective of.

And let’s not forget that it was our ever evolving system of democracy which over the years abolished the slave trade, made suffrage universal, stood firm against dictatorship when it threatened the freedom of Europe, granted rights to workers, delivered a universal healthcare system based on an individual’s need rather than their ability to pay, made education free and compulsory for all children, ensured habeas corpus, recognised homosexual relationships through civil partnerships, embraced religious freedom and protected freedom of speech. The list goes on.

Ours is a political system which should be celebrated, both for its achievements in the past and its acknowledgement that it must constantly improve if it is to make greater achievements in the future. For sure, there will always be an abundance of individuals ready to throw mud at politics and politicians, but let’s not forget that they have yet to propose an alternative system of government which promises to be better.

Winston Churchill said it best: ‘Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.’

Shane Greer is the executive editor of Total Politics

2

What it’s like to be a politician

Andrew MacKinlay

Many years ago while an aspiring candidate in a pretty hopeless seat, someone advised me that there was no point going into public life and also being a shrinking violet. This was sound advice.

Consequently, both in making speeches and at dinners, coffee mornings and other social occasions, much energy and mental preparation has to be expended in order to fulfil the expectations of your supporters.

It is essential to overcome (or, perhaps more accurately, disguise) the insecurity and lack of self confidence that so many of us suffer from. This can of course lead to embarrassing over-compensation. We have all met the very loud, over the top, gladhanding personality. The skill is to try and improve one’s game on each new occasion.

If you are shy or lacking in self confidence, your task is to overcome this, and with the help of your supporters build an ‘image’ of what their chosen candidate or MP should portray.

One will draw strength from what, in my opinion, is normally an overwhelming amount of goodwill and in some cases considerable deference. However, there will always be one who shakes his head or doesn’t laugh and who asks a spiteful loaded question or makes a remark about MPs’ expenses. They are like an Exocet missile racing into your side, destroying and crumpling the fragile hull of your newly acquired confidence.

The thing to do is to focus on the fact that overwhelmingly your audience appreciates what you have to say and that they have had a ‘chat’ with you and had an opportunity to have their say. The politician’s nightmare is remembering people’s names and also those to whom you have written in response to a query. The volume of those you meet and those who write is enormous and is never ever understood by journalists or those who are charged with assessing the ‘worth’ of MPs when it comes to expenses.

A bishop gave me a tip one day. When you don’t know who is speaking to you – say ‘Please remind me of your name?’ If the reply comes back ‘Margaret’ you then, clasping the lady by the hand, swiftly rejoin by saying: ‘I know you’re Margaret! It was your last name I just couldn’t remember!’

Clement Freud, who was the Liberal MP for Ely, recalled the formula for those who come up to you and about whose identity you haven’t the foggiest idea. You simply say: ‘I got your letter’, obviously reassuring them that you immediately recall and identify the subject matter, and that you will be keen and able to converse and enlarge on what was in their letter. Maybe it was a wrong that needed to be righted; maybe you were tipped off to send condolences following a bereavement or a disappointing failure; or maybe it was to congratulate the person on some great success. You have no idea!!

The microseconds flash past. You hope that you will be rescued by another who wants and is competing for your attention or that the first person will give you a clue about the subject matter to which they are referring.

Your face muscles will work overtime as you ‘work the tables’ at a social. You will laugh at the joke, the critical punch line lost as the teller doubles up with laughter at his own story. Your face will lift and your eyes light up when a proud lady tells you about her grandson who is going to university, only for the mask to change as if a switch was flicked on hearing from a widower of the recent loss of his wife of sixty years.

You desperately hope too that when picking the raffle tickets as the principal guest at a function, you avoid picking out one of the many tickets you paid for… and most certainly that if you have already won the big box of chocolates, you don’t win again. If you do, and the ‘choice’ is between the bottle of Famous Grouse and bath salts… well there really is no choice. You’ll enjoy your bath!

In the final weeks of my time as an MP I got one of those letters from a very pompous man (who was not a constituent) in which he boasted how hard he worked, unlike so many others, and how he was paying for others while he maintained himself and his family by private schooling and private health insurance.

He then posed a series of ‘questions’ in which he challenged me to proffer my views and/or defend my party’s position. He continued in his letter to ask: ‘Is there anybody in Parliament today that fairly represents British people like me?’

Hopefully not!

I replied that if he thought he could do a better job as a Member of Parliament, and do it more cheaply, then not only could he stand at the next election but arguably he had a duty to do so!

I think this is an important point. Those most vociferous critics of either your individual style and stewardship of public office, or of the government, must be asked why they have not the courage to stand for election.

The Friday surgery can never be shown on TV. At the end of a long, hard week it can be emotionally draining but also most rewarding.

There are the ‘regulars’, including those being spied on by the CIA, and those who get messages from space through their TV sets. However, by far the greater numbers are those whose problems are numerous: victims of a heartless bureaucracy, or those who are starving because of the appalling and gross incompetence of the UK Border Agency to determine their status, or to find their papers lost in a Home Office tower block in Croydon – not for months but years. Then there are the parents who have bought their council home but cannot understand that there is a shortage of municipal properties for their daughter and son-in-law and infant grandchild. These are good people but one wonders if on occasion they expect the good Lord to come down from heaven each night and replenish the housing stock in green pastures. You try! You try to explain the shortage and the demand and every time you send a letter to the housing office you try to muster and craft new arguments which always end up as variants on the same point. Nevertheless you explain why this young family is ‘a special case’.

A weekend will be filled with many pleasing duties, when invariably one is welcomed to a variety of different functions. Friday may include a veterans’ dinner and Saturday might be the presentation at the under-12 soccer tournament. Saturday afternoon could be a non-league football match – to be welcomed by the quip ‘Eh!… haven’t seen you lately… must be an election in the offing’ – and in the evening it could be the scout gang show, choral society or the male voice choir.

Sunday might include a civic service, an ordination or induction of a new rector, or the Apostolic Church of God from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. – always exciting, with sermons delivered with great fire and passion interspersed with some of the great sounds and anthems from west Africa.

Sunday evening – where has the weekend gone?

I went to the gang show every year for ten years. I enjoyed it every time and it allowed me to reinforce my regard and commitment for the Scouts, an organisation of which I was such a beneficiary in my childhood and adolescence. However, after ten years one really does know every gag, every line and every dance step.

One year I could not attend the show and was somewhat taken aback when I faced a mild rebuke from an old scout who said: ‘We never see you these days.’

When you’re out campaigning, in the run-up to an election for example, that’s often the kind of response you get on the doorstep. When you ask for someone’s support you need to do so confidently and boldly. They will often say ‘Well, they [the council] never come and cut our grass’ or ‘It’s a secret ballot, isn’t it? Well, then, it’s between me and the ballot box’. Your response must always be scrupulously polite but you can gently point out where and how you are available in between elections.

Of course, it must be stressed that there are also those who are supportive and you obviously devote time and spend a few minutes talking to those who encourage you, telling you they’ve ‘never voted anything else’.

So now you’ve arrived! Your first day is daunting there are no two ways about it. You’re like the new kid arriving at secondary school. Certainly when I arrived back in 1992 there wasn’t any guidance. It is very much down to you how you organise your day, your time and your staff. You will have to orientate yourself around the maze of rooms within the Palace. This is an exciting time and these early days might be the only opportunity you have to explore the building and learn about its great history.

Foremost among your many tasks is to get yourself an office, either in the main building within the Palace itself or in one of the many surrounding buildings on the parliamentary estate. It is important to consider where you want to place yourself strategically. If you want to be ‘in the thick of it’ you will have to make do with a small stuffy, possibly windowless office. But there are advantages to this, such as being close by when the Division bell starts to ring.

There is no overarching way to behave as a politician other than the obvious things: honesty, integrity, humility. Part of the problem has been that there is very little guidance but hopefully when you get to the other end – as I am now – you will look back at your time as a politician with some pride and with fantastic memories of all the people you have been able to help: the achievements, the opportunities to travel and visit many countries and also to make contact with some incredible people which will often lead to lasting friendships.

For me it has been a long and fascinating journey and one which I would not have missed for all the world.

Andrew MacKinlay is the Labour MP for Thurrock

3

What it takes to be a politician

What it takes to be a councillor

Nick Cuff

I didn’t really plan to be a councillor, it just happened. Before I got selected, my knowledge of local politics was hazy. If you had asked me what a councillor did, I would probably have muttered something about social work.

I remember things moved quickly. I had recently relocated to Wandsworth and signed up with the local party association. However, I hadn’t been to a single local event and I didn’t know any political activists.

One day while at work I received an association wide e-mail. A candidate had dropped out and they were asking for people to come forward. I thought it was worth a shot and filled in an application while sipping my coffee.

That night I told my girlfriend what I had done. She looked on in horror. ‘Do you realise how much additional work being a local councillor actually involves?’ I remember her asking.

I promised her with usual bravado that as a virtual stranger there was no chance I was going to get selected. It wasn’t the first time I had been wrong and it certainly won’t be the last.

I don’t remember too much about the night of the interview. I remember being very nervous but thinking things had gone quite smoothly. I joined a few friends in the pub afterwards and happily forgot the experience.

The next day around 8 a.m. I received a call. I have come to learn that agents don’t do small talk on the phone and this was no exception.

My girlfriend was in the kitchen and I remember her hovering within earshot. After one or two pleasantries the agent told me I was being put into a safe seat, and I would be a councillor in three months. She must have heard because within seconds there were floods of tears and accusations of broken promises.

The agent also must have heard. He stopped in his tracks and asked who was crying. I replied it was my girlfriend and was about to explain when he cut me off: ‘Crying with delight! It’s great to have someone supportive behind you.’ A second later, I had my instructions and he was gone leaving me to manage expectations on the home front.

I’ve been a councillor for nearly four years now and have been selected to stand again. My life hasn’t been radically altered by the experience but I find I sleep less and organise myself more.

One of the great things about being a councillor is that you can combine a day job with being a local politician – something unfortunately increasingly frowned upon at a national level. This keeps you in touch with the real world.

I find there is a cross over between the skills you learn in business and the skills you learn as a local politician. I talk from experience here. I have had two different careers since I became a councillor – first in public affairs before retraining and joining a City surveying practice. My experience and knowledge as a councillor has benefited both and vice versa.

There are certain character traits common in all aspiring local council candidates and councillors: the skin of a rhino and a steely determination to keep you going. Both traits don’t necessarily need to be inherent; the longer you’re in this game, the more you find they naturally come about.

The most effective councillors also pick their battles. There is a mountain of paper and the tentacles of a local council seem to stretch out for ever. Rather than trying to master everything, it’s far better to specialise in one or two areas.

And one final thing: being a councillor doesn’t destroy relationships. I’ve even managed to convince my girlfriend to come out and deliver leaflets.

Nick Cuff is a Conservative councillor in the London Borough of Wandsworth

What it takes to be an MLA

Simon Hamilton

When considering the question ‘What does it take to be an MLA?’ it is tempting to say if anyone else has an idea could they please let me know.

Being a member of the Northern Ireland Assembly – like holding any public office – doesn’t exactly come with a job description.

There are characteristics and qualities that an MLA should have that are common to any elected position.

It almost goes without saying that you should have a desire to make a difference however you might define it. Astute political antennae, an ability to argue one’s point and the patience to sit for hours scrutinising the detail of legislation or a policy proposal are essential.

When I entered the Assembly in spring 2007, I believed I possessed at least something of each of these traits. Or at least I thought I did.

Take for example, the absolutely key requirement of speaking in public. While some MLAs seem to have become trappist monks, taking vows of silence, if you want to get noticed and get votes, speaking in public – whether that be on radio or on TV or in the Assembly chamber – is imperative.

Having your homework mentally marked by the big beasts of the NI political jungle like Paisley and Adams doesn’t make for an easy environment to come across as cool, calm and collected. It was a big step up for me from having been a local councillor. After a year on Ards Borough Council I was prognosticating and pontificating on all sorts of subjects. It doesn’t matter where you get your grounding – Council, the courtroom or in a community group. The common refrain we hear on radio phone in programmes, ‘that even I can do better than that shower in Stormont’, may be true in the odd case but generally you need time to settle in, to start to understand the system and simply to find your feet.

Perhaps the one big difference to being an MLA in NI as opposed to being a legislator elsewhere is that NI politics is much more ‘retail’, much more constituent focused than I have experienced elsewhere. If you think you can just sit in Stormont burying your head in policy work and talking endlessly in debates, then you shouldn’t be surprised when the votes are counted and your pile isn’t as big as others. Voters expect you to open a full time advice centre and operate surgeries and they demand to see you personally and aren’t afraid to stop you in the street and ask you about their problems.

Maybe the one thing that is forgotten when weighing up embarking upon a career as an MLA is the impact it will undoubtedly have on your life. An understanding family is critical as any semblance of a normal working life disappears on day one. As much, though, as you will have to devote your time to helping perfect strangers, you must never lose sight of the needs of your own family and indeed yourself. I have observed too many politicians miss seeing their own children grow up and watched as their own health has deteriorated as they pursue every possible vote to know that balance is what you should aim for even if you don’t always achieve it.

But above all, this is something you must want to do. It isn’t good enough to think you’ll just give it a go. It has to spark something in your core. I do this job because I absolutely love what I’m doing. This was something I always knew that I wanted to do at some stage in my life so there was always a passion for politics burning deep inside me that made it an easy choice for me to abandon a fledgling career in accountancy. I have worked in jobs where I haven’t wanted to get out of bed in the morning and face what a day in the office or the shop holds. In being an MLA, the problem I find isn’t getting up in the morning, it’s getting to bed at a respectable time at night.

I know that this is one of the best jobs I’ll ever do. It is certainly challenging, but the sense of having done something positive that you feel when you help a pensioner get their windows fixed or win a DLA appeal is worth everything you have to go through.

Confident but not cocky. Interested and engaged but not appearing overly intellectual. Accessible and involved but not to the detriment of your own life. This is what I think it takes to be an MLA. I will find out if I am right when I ask the people to renew my contract.

Simon Hamilton is the Democratic Unionist MLA for Strangford

What it takes to be an AM

Bethan Jenkins

Politics is in the blood of the Jenkins family. My parents were heavily involved in the anti-apartheid movement in the 1970s and 1980s as well as anti-open-cast mining campaigns in my home town of Merthyr Tydfil. My father, Mike Jenkins, an Anglo-Welsh poet, writes for the Red Poets, so socialism runs in the veins.

I studied at the University of Wales, Aberystwyth. Here, I became heavily involved in student politics, becoming president of Aberystwyth Guild of Students in 2004. The town is steeped in the history of the struggle for Welsh independence, and I became actively involved in Plaid Cymru at this time.

This led on to work with Plaid MEP Jill Evans after university, before joining Leanne Wood AM’s team and setting up the new youth movement for Plaid Cymru, Cymru X. It was a job I loved doing, and it inspired me to put my name forward as a Plaid list member for the National Assembly. I achieved this in 2007, becoming an Assembly Member for South Wales West and, in the process, the youngest member of the house at the time.

The past three years have provided the steepest of learning curves, but I am privileged to be an elected representative, with Plaid Cymru in government for the very first time.

I deal with a range of individual cases and campaigns as an Assembly Member, from dealing with matters pertaining to the health service, the environment, asylum cases, to housing and transport. These issues might not sound as ambitious as the pursuit of independence for Wales, but they are enormously important to the people affected. Sometimes it is frustrating if cases cannot be progressed as swiftly as constituents envisage due to processes and bureaucracy, but I hope that most people appreciate the effort I put in to helping them manoeuvre their way forward to progress.

I don’t wait for constituents to come to me. I always make sure I have a busy programme of visits and meetings with local organisations and businesses. This contact is essential as it allows people and bodies to see how they can communicate with me as their Assembly Member in ways that they perhaps hadn’t thought of previously. Many of them will have dealt directly with civil servants or local authorities, who often don’t have the latitude to find solutions in the ways that AMs can. I can, for example, go straight to a minister if the matter is urgent enough. I can initiate a committee inquiry, as I did with a casework matter concerning prejudice against AIDS patients in the NHS, and when I initiated a cross-party committee on eating disorders having received letter bags full of casework from people who could not be treated in Wales for their condition.

Often, you will find that there are groups of people rather than just individuals that need assistance. Think, for example, of opposition to housing developments or wind farms. Not all such cases are negative. I’m currently working with a group that want rail services returned to their area.

The democratic development I am most proud to be involved with at the National Assembly for Wales is the petitions committee – a dedicated committee of AMs who scrutinise and meet with petitioners. This is the gateway to the Assembly for local communities, allowing them to effect change through legislation. For example, an end to the provision of plastic bags in supermarkets in Wales began life as a petition. Now there is a law for a levy on plastic bags.

As a committee, we’ll consider petitions signed by as few as ten people. It is a chance for Welsh citizens to take part in politics, and to practise their rights in a new, creative way – aided by the development of an e-petitions system. We feel we have led the way, and now Westminster is hoping to follow suit.

Anybody considering entering politics should understand that it is very hard work, sometimes frustratingly so. However, if you believe in politics as a force for change it can be incredibly rewarding. I never thought that I would be a politician as a child growing up in the south Wales valleys, but anything is possible if you are passionate, dedicated and proactive.

Bethan Jenkins is a Plaid Cymru MLA for South Wales West

What it takes to be an MSP

Gil Paterson

I don’t know a single MSP who regrets in any way being an MSP. Yes, we have our moans – not enough time in the day, frustration when constituents have what we believe is a legitimate concern that the system does not sort, the time away from families and so on. Would any of us walk away? I don’t think so.

It is handy if you have the ability to run an issue-based campaign. Even if, like me, you’re a member of the governing party, running a campaign gives you the satisfaction of being involved with the grass roots and keeping in touch with the public. It very much keeps you focused on the real issues affecting your constituents.

The system that surrounds being an MSP could easily disconnect you from real people.

First, there is the committee work, lots of reading and evidence taking. Being the convener of the Standards, Procedures and Public Appointments Committee brings additional work load.

The chamber work takes up a fair amount of a member’s time: not only the time you spend in the chamber but the time to research in advance of speaking and the actual writing of our speeches. However, by and large the chamber is the place for me to broaden my knowledge over a wide variety of subjects and issues where people with specialist knowledge frequently surprise me with their particular work.

Most MSPs are members of cross-party groups, of which there is a substantial number in the Scottish Parliament. I am a vice-convener of three cross-party groups – Men’s Violence against Women and Children, China and Chronic Pain. In each case, the convener is of another party but when it comes to the policies of the groups we are as one, which seems to be typical within the Parliament.

I would say half of your time, that is 9–5, is spent on constituency work, which may be dealing with a constituent’s complaint or visiting a local establishment to hear their concerns and plans for the future. Most requests for assistance with a complaint come via the phone and increasingly by email, although I do hold a regular surgery every Friday evening.

One of the frustrations in dealing with the public is when a complaint is on a reserved power which is retained by the British Parliament. Informing the constituent that you are unable to help them can be very difficult to get across, especially if they have a legitimate complaint that needs to be addressed. However, passing it to the appropriate Westminster department normally does not cause any ruptures.

Meetings, public or otherwise, of course continue into the evenings and the weekend. A meeting could be with an individual, a local group or an organisation in a house, hall or office, and on any day or evening the meeting may be to inform or be informed, but it is sure to generate work of one kind or another. Engaging in this way is the part of the job I like the best; it is where in most cases you can make a difference.

It should be appreciated that most politicians also pay attention and give time to their own political party, attending local party meetings or campaigning. For me, I normally attend two different branch meetings per month along with meetings with local SNP councillors or SNP council groups.

It can be a difficult job but one filled with great rewards, most important of all helping an individual constituent overcome a particular problem. I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Gil Paterson is an SNP MSP for West of Scotland

What it takes to be an MEP

Syed Kamall

MEPs were once seen as having less power than MPs in Westminster. No longer. Successive European treaties granting ever more powers to Brussels – and the power of co-decision to the European Parliament – means MEPs are now as powerful as national ministers in making the law. Whereas having power at Westminster depends upon the patronage of the party and Prime Minister, those who wield power in the European Parliament rely on their own ability to construct coalitions of interest on a particular issue. Our votes in amending European Commission proposals are subject to the checks and balances of the decisions of the Council of Ministers but there is no denying that the European Parliament is the most powerful parliament of any, across the twenty-seven EU member states.

That in itself makes becoming an MEP an attractive job to someone who has a vision about how he or she wants to change the world, even if – like me – you want to see a world where the European Union and government interfere less in our lives. One of my proudest moments in the European Parliament was the publication of the International Trade Committee’s Report on Trade in Services (known as the Kamall Report), which was described by one Socialist MEP in the chamber as ‘the most free market report ever to go through this parliament’. Achievements such as this bob up only rarely in a sea of soul-destroying legislative and regulatory measures which are rammed through the Parliament on a monthly basis.

One of the things we have to live with as politicians is the enmity of people who do not agree with us. They sometimes do not realise that most politicians care deeply about making the world a better place, and fail to recognise that we simply have different ideas as to how to solve the world’s problems.

Some of the biggest highs that come from this job arise from using my influence to put right the little things that can go wrong with public administration, which can nonetheless mean a great deal to the people affected. Some cases are cross-border, such as when a constituent who also owned a property in France came to me after being chased for a €3,000 water bill which had arisen when a tenant or builder had left a tap on in the property. I wrote to the CEO of the company and managed to persuade him to drop the charge. Others involve public authorities closer to home, as in the case of a disabled lady who contacted me after she was issued a parking ticket unfairly and couldn’t get through to the council bureaucracy dealing with her case. I asked the council leader to look into it personally, who discovered that the ticket had in fact been issued in error.

Elective public service has been very rewarding but at times can be frustrating, especially with a young family. I miss being able to drop our children at school when I am away in Brussels, and it is challenging for my wife to look after them alone during the week and sometimes at weekends. We all struggle with finding the right balance between family and work life. And within my work life, I have to be conscious of balancing my time between Europe, my constituency and my party.

During the week, we sit in committee rooms or debating chambers rubbing shoulders with some of the most preeminent statesmen of our time. But we are not masters of the universe. Politicians need grounding and coming home to normal family life every week reminds us why we make the effort.

Syed Kamall is a Conservative MEP for London

What it takes to be an MP

Tom Harris

Politicians are strange people.

Think about it: they spend year after year attending boring meetings on wet, cold Thursday evenings in draughty community centres, listening to other strange people discussing the most esoteric and obscure of issues. They undertake the most menial tasks as office holders of their local political party branch or constituency association, the only reward for which is a lot more work and a lot more criticism from those who reckon they could be doing the same job, and doing it better.

Then, if they’re lucky, they might be selected as a candidate for the local authority, or even for Parliament, giving them the opportunity to receive even more criticism – much of it personal – from their prospective electorate during the election campaign.

And if they’re actually elected? Oh, dear, oh, dear…

Few of us at Westminster even stop to think about whether or not we’ve got what it takes to be an MP, or to consider what those qualities actually are. We’re already here, after all, so someone, somewhere, must surely have decided we have ‘the Right Stuff’, yes?

Well, possibly.

As a new MP in 2001, I would have listed determination, integrity and principle as the essential prerequisites to becoming a tribune of the people.

Nearly nine years on I would add: a thick skin, an understanding and tolerant spouse and a great deal of patience.

But I would suggest that the qualities needed to perform the job of MP are subtly and crucially different from those required to achieve the ambition in the first place. An incredible and reality-defying self-belief, for example, has propelled many a jobsworth party activist onto the green benches of the House of Commons, only for them to find, after their election, that their talent and ability remain apparent only to themselves.

Similarly, while an ability to connect with ordinary voters is undoubtedly crucial in an election campaign, there are plenty of colleagues whose minds seem to have been wiped of all such interpersonal skills the very moment the returning officer announces the name of the winning candidate.

But of all the many qualities needed in order to pursue a relatively successful career in parliament, I would list ‘sense of perspective’ pretty near the top of the list. MPs need to know their place in the scheme of things. They have to understand that, as one of 646 legislators, they are not about to play a pivotal role in the life of the nation. At least, not right away.

That sense of perspective is invaluable, both at Westminster and in the constituency. When inundated with requests for help from constituents, it’s vital to know how much help you can actually provide – and how much you can’t.

In the Commons itself, in its debates and arcane procedures which govern the conduct of standing committees and secondary legislation committees, in its select committee structures, that sense of perspective can help prevent the onset of insanity, or at least can help convince you that the Herculean efforts you expended on achieving your position have not been entirely for nothing.

But life for the British MP post the expenses scandal will be entirely different from that experienced before it, and I suppose I should consider myself privileged to be one of those who will be able to draw a comparison. In that context, perspective is required to understand that MPs, while still retaining a residual level of influence, respect and prestige within their communities, will have to show a degree of patience as they wait for the public to recognise their finer attributes.

Tom Harris is the Labour MP for Glasgow South

Part II

Getting selected

4

The process

Getting selected for the Labour Party

Charlie Mansell

So, you want to be selected as a Labour candidate?

The Labour Party has a very detailed set of rules which have evolved as a result of a number of factors:

› The demand for accountability of representatives to members in the early 1980s, which reflected the tradition of Labour as a party that started outside Parliament;

› The need to tackle issues around the political acceptability of candidates and media controversy in the late 1980s;

› The requirement to ensure diversity of candidates, particularly more women, but also more ethnic minorities from the mid-1990s.

Therefore Labour has a lot of rules, constantly reviewed over the last thirty years, and a high level of centralisation, with a lot of power exercised by its full-time regional directors on behalf of the General Secretary. This is backed up by a lot of case law, established in this area over the years as a result of a number of legal challenges. Indeed this has even led to legislation that formally allows all-women shortlists.

The other key difference is that, unlike the other parties, Labour has external affiliated organisations, such as trade unions, the Co-op Party and socialist societies, who have certain rights for establishing panels of candidates. The larger affiliates will go out of their way to promote favoured people for some selections – certainly at parliamentary and at devolved assembly level.

If an election is called, the Labour Party National Executive Committee (NEC) is likely to draw up panels of candidates for local members to choose from. Thus panel membership and local connection are likely to count. Probably the best position to be in is that of a strong local candidate, but one not perceived as the ‘official candidate’. Party members are likely to select people not necessarily by their politics, but more by whether they are seen as committed to the locality and with a track record that is not just ‘House of Commons researcher’. Community experience and ‘hinterland’ are likely to count much more in this election.

Diversity

This is seen as an important issue. Labour has had all-women shortlists for candidates since the mid-1990s and the NEC is aiming for a Parliamentary Labour Party which is at least 40 per cent women in the next parliament. And it is clear this has made a difference. Unlike the other parties, Labour has made a lot of use of the anti-discrimination legislation on gender that it has introduced. As the legislation allows political parties to voluntarily operate rules to promote women candidates, it is assumed that this will not now be repealed if there is a change of government, so this is likely to remain a key difference between Labour and the other parties.

At a local government level the party strives in three member wards to have a minimum of one woman candidate selected in every ward, though there has been some flexibility around the issue of sitting councillors.

Rules and application forms

Chapter 5 of the Party Rules – ‘Selections for Elected Party Office’ – along with the Selections Procedures Guide and the Code of Conduct for candidates issued by the NEC are important for you to read and understand. Key points to remember at this stage are:

› Continuous membership of the party of at least twelve months (Rule 5A1Bi)

› Membership of a union affiliated to the TUC (5A1Bi)

› There will be a minimum standard of candidate quality set out by the NEC.

The application forms are not there to catch you out. They are designed to bring out all the skills and experience you have. Don’t just focus on a long list of party committees, but also reference community activity. Think of things you have done where you have taken the lead in something. This makes it easier to talk about during any panel interviews. A useful point is to list all the various connections you have to places you might apply to stand in as well as all the organisations that might make a nomination. You can secure easy votes by reference to membership of a trade union and the Co-op Party.

Read all the conditions listed at the back of the form. These set out undertakings you give to the party to comply with party rules and standing orders and with standards legislation. This is important as some will be very relevant when we come to panel interviews.

Interview by panel of candidates

This is mandatory for all selections except parliamentary selections. However, failure to be on a panel can mean a selected parliamentary candidate still has to go through an interview after selection. The problem is that the party will then keep a non-panelled candidate waiting for endorsement. When a general election is imminently due, this may not be an issue; however, the NEC could decree that only panelled candidates can take part in any selections that occur after any election has been called.

Generally parliamentary panels contain Labour Party NEC members. Much of the panelling at other levels is done by regional board members. These people are elected by the regional conferences and tend to be long-standing activists.

The sort of questions a panel will ask include:

› Why do you want to be a representative? It’s remarkable how many candidates fall apart at this point. They either have no idea, or come across as far too careerist. Talk about what inspired you and how you can make a difference working with others, perhaps illustrating it with an area of policy where you have knowledge or interest.

› What is your understanding of the work of the body you are seeking selection to?

› Give examples of where you have a made a difference in some part of party or community activity. This is not a list of committees but what you have actually done.

› What is your understanding of how the whip system works and your commitment to it?