Public sympathy for MPs is in short supply. Demands on them are high, and faith in the country’s decision-makers has been stretched to breaking point after a seemingly endless slew of sleaze scandals. This means that when they face work-related problems, many are reluctant to put their head above the parapet. For years, MPs struggled to open a bank account because of the strict rules around being a “politically exposed person”. It was only when Nigel Farage’s battle with his bank came to light that some felt confident to admit it had seriously hampered them, their families and their staff. Parliament and the government have long lagged behind on parental leave rights too. The law had to be changed in 2021 to allow Suella Braverman to take time off as attorney general after the birth of her baby so that another minister could be paid to stand in for her. “We are privileged to have this job – but also face some uniquely terrible employment practices. You can’t talk openly about them without feeling it’s like getting out the world’s smallest violin,” sighed one MP.
That is why the problems with working in parliament are underdiscussed. And in part why MPs are reluctant to talk openly about being victims of the seemingly forever-unresolved “Pestminster” scandal. It should be shocking that any MP has had the temerity to grope a colleague, especially one who, like Chris Bryant, is chair of the Commons standards committee. Revelations about Bryant being groped by five fellow MPs during his 22 years in parliament, made in his new book, have prompted renewed urgency among all those who work in Westminster over the need for cultural change. In recent years, the Independent Complaints and Grievance Scheme was set up – a route to address the most serious claims of inappropriate behaviour, including bullying, harassment or sexual misconduct. But the truth is that it takes longer to change the culture than it does to overhaul the rules. Other MPs who privately admit they have been groped by colleagues usually feel that the best route to address it is through informal processes. This is often through the whips’ office. It was traditionally thought of as a place where bad behaviour by MPs was held in secret to be used against them as leverage – but has been modernised in recent years to perform more of a pastoral role. One source in the whips’ office said a list of nefarious MPs was passed on by word of mouth to protect new members and staffers. It is still the case that warnings have to be whispered about not getting in a lift with a certain colleague, or turning down an invitation for a drink in their office.
For that reason, many in Westminster will not find Bryant’s revelation shocking – but rather another damning indictment of the poor working practices they feel they have to endure. For real change to happen, the political parties would have to agree what to do in the event of a complaint. Should the whip be suspended when allegations are made anonymously in the media? When a formal complaint is made? Or when evidence of wrongdoing comes to light, or a police investigation is opened? Even agreement on this basic point has evaded cross-party consensus. Such confusion about how a complaint will be dealt with only leads to a lack of faith that submitting one will lead to a resolution. Which means Bryant’s experience will probably not be the last of its kind.