Image source, ReutersYou can see it in the facial expressions of our political leaders and hear it in the tenor and tone of their voices.
People across Westminster and beyond are stunned at the news of the murder investigation into the death of Ann Widdecombe. The sadness at the loss of a friend to many, magnified by the horror of what we were to later learn about its horrific circumstances.
The police have said they have “no information” to believe it is a “politically motivated crime.”
Nonetheless, in moments like this those in public life are reminded of their prominence and sense of vulnerability, not least after the murders, in the last decade, of the Labour MP Jo Cox and the Conservative MP Sir David Amess.
Ann Widdecombe was an extraordinary character.
Sure, people would have strong views about her strong views, of course – those strongly in agreement and strongly in disagreement.
When I presented Any Questions on Radio 4, which alongside the job I do now was the biggest privilege I have ever had professionally, she was one of my favourite panellists.
Every weekend, in front of a live audience in school halls, village halls, church halls and lecture theatres, I would get a sense of those guests – across the full spectrum of political views – who could connect with an audience; those who could provoke, challenge, engage and occasionally enrage. Those who would compel people in the room to sit up and hold that panellist’s gaze.
In other words, those most skilled in prosecuting what public life in a democracy is all about: being able to articulate, with clarity and conviction, what they stand for.
To represent the essence of a listener’s own worldview, or perhaps the essence of its polar opposite. Few of her words would wash over anyone – they would splash a listener in the face and demand a reaction.
Ann Widdecombe was pugnacious, charismatic, barbed and yes, had a sense of silliness too.
And she answered the question. I couldn’t, in all honesty, credit every guest with doing that.
Image source, Getty ImagesTo stand for public office and to lead a public life is a noble calling and don’t underestimate the courage it takes to hold, in public, views that divide.
It is the nature of political life that that is inevitable and necessary, and no one is forced to do it. But in an era of anti politics, corrosive cynicism and a social media environment where motive and character are so often instantly maligned, spare a thought on a human level – whether you agree with them or not – for all those willing to stride out onto that noisy, contested, sometimes angry public stage.
Ann Widdecombe revelled in debate, even, perhaps particularly, when articulating positions as a lifelong social conservative that were no longer fashionable to many. There were too her views that wouldn’t even curry favour with all those in her own party.
She was, after all, the author of one of contemporary politics’ most withering putdowns, when she described Michael, now Lord Howard as having “something of the night about him,” a description so vivid and original he is destined never to entirely escape it.
The former Conservative leader magnanimously offered the understated reflection that he and her had their “ups and downs” – but had made up.
Let’s be clear – some of her views were regarded by some as deeply offensive.
Others cheered what they saw as her uncompromising bravery in maintaining those convictions and saying so publicly. A robust but civilised public debate can respect both of those stances.
Ann Widdecombe was sharp but warm. Serious but self deprecating. Kind but fearsome.
It is for you as a reader to come to your own view about her views.
What I can tell you is that plenty who knew her, whether they agreed with her or not, found her immensely likeable.
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