I’m serious actually, it sounds brutal. Article link below:
Summary
Current status: Grim and worsening
Nobody makes a good decision late at night. That’s why kebab shops exist.
But imagine making a decision that will define not just your life but the entire country, not just for tonight but for the next decades. And doing it while tired, fearing for your life, and fuelled on junk food, alcohol and adrenaline.
I spent yesterday walking the corridors of parliament, speaking to MPs for the Red Box podcast about their mental state, and the impact it is having on Brexit. This was supposed to be recess, with MPs, staffers, officials and, yes even journalists, given a break from the madhouse.
Instead everyone is still in SW1. And the current mood is, well, grim. Nobody even knows why they are here: there are no big votes planned, no breakthrough in sight. The talks between Labour and the government continue. Downing Street says ministers and their Labour counterparts will be holding further talks today.
Theresa May is off to Berlin and Paris to try to persuade Angela Merkel and Emmanuel Macron not to force Britain out of the EU this Friday.
And back in parliament MPs are tired, angry, dividing their time between deleting death threats, missing their families and eating and drinking too much.
Now look, MPs are never going to be the nation’s favourite: tuition fees, MPs expenses, Iraq, back to basics … they have done much to blot their copy books.
But for every falafel-fuelled Remoaner wanting to overturn democracy and every ruddy-cheeked Brextremist foghorning on TV about how no-deal will be just fine thank you very much and they have got a big penis thank you very much, there are many, many more out of sight having a miserable time.
In fact it is the reluctance of so many to speak publicly about Brexit that means it is the same, small cast of hysterical, maniacal Remainers and Leavers who fill the airwaves all day long.
I know no one will feel sorry for them. But I’ve tried to paint a picture of what it is like to be an MP – Tory, Labour and SNP, Leaver or Remainer – right now in a place where friendships are being tested, tears are being shed, the roof is leaking and the tearoom is ordering in more chocolate to cope with demand.
Several refused to speak on the record. “I don’t want to sound like a whinger,” said one Brexiteer, perhaps pre-empting the charge that they brought this on themselves.
Those that did speak reveal the toll of 100-hour weeks, no holiday since Christmas, and no end in sight as they are told by party whips they must be in Westminster for the forseeable future.
Chris Bryant, a Labour MP, said: “I know three MPs whose partners are dying, they daily have to make the decision whether they’re going to go home to see them, or whether they’re going to hang around for a vote.”
Amid the tumult, Bryant has been receiving treatment for stage three skin cancer. “I went to see the GP service that they provide here for MPs. He said to me, ‘I normally see three MPs a month. I’ve seen 12 this week.’ I feel quite chipper because basically I don’t think I’m go to die of cancer this month, which is what I thought a couple of months ago.” That is what passes for optimism in parliament these days.
The pressure on MPs is intense, Bryant said. “One colleague’s being murdered and another colleague has had a plot unveiled to murder her. This weekend, one MP had his house daubed, another had her office window smashed. We’ve all got panic alarms in our houses. Lovely. Charming. Anybody fancy the job?"
George Freeman, Tory MP, said he would not expect sympathy from the public, but added: “All I can tell them is across all parties, particularly the government party, I never seen people so exhausted, so stressed – people bursting into tears at meetings, particularly the newer MPs. There’s no support. It’s the loneliest place to work. Fear leads to anger. Anger is often a masking emotion for fear, and also loneliness leads to people joining gangs. People are huddling in gangs and that’s partly why we’re not getting a compromise.”
MPs feel torn between trying to please their local party association, their constituents, their party, their leadership, and doing what they believe to be right. This cuts across all parties, Tory and Labour, Remain and Leave.
Tiredness is a huge problem. Phillipa Whitford, an SNP MP, likens it to when she was a junior doctor: “We had the ridiculous 132-hour weeks, and it was eventually accepted that when you are a bit sleep-deprived and stressed, decision-making gets poorer and poorer and poorer. And I think we’re certainly in that.
“I often describe it as being in an Indiana Jones movie where you’re walking across the pavement that has the hot lava underneath. Now, he has the advantage that there are symbols on the slabs so he can actually work out where to put his foot. Here we don’t. And there’s just that sense that you might make an amendment, make a move, vote in a certain way because you think it’s going to make something better. And actually the tectonic plates have moved and suddenly actually you’ve made it worse and, that’s quite scary for MPs.”
Ruth Smeeth, a Labour MP whose constituency voted overwhelmingly Leave and who is also fighting antisemitism in her party, has faced on onslaught from two sides. “My staff are having to see more abuse every day, even more. At the moment they are on a block-tastic frenzy on Twitter, which they have changed the password so I can’t see Twitter anymore. So I’m sort of cocooned from some of it.”
I also spoke to two parliamentary staffers who work for MPs. Tara O’Reilly described colleagues and friends “getting quite upset, whether that’s going to the toilets to cry because they’ve answered another call to a death threat, or just generally everyone’s just on the edge”.
Elliot Stratton added: “If someone calls in a death threat to an MP, they don’t get through to their MP. They will be talking to a caseworker or a staff. Often in many cases, perhaps the most junior person in the office.” There is little support for staff on how to deal with this.”
So how are some coping? The all-party parliamentary group for mindfulness has come into its own. Some 240 MPs and peers have had training in the past six years. There is a two-year waiting list for staff.
Chris Ruane, a Labour MP and co-chairman of the group, points to research showing that 47 per cent of people live their lives, not in the moment, either drawn back to the past or projecting to the future. “And they’re missing everything that’s before them. Whether it’s a difficult issue, whether it’s a sunset, your child. So it’s about using the breath as an anchor to bring you back time and time and time again, when you find yourself in the past or the future to the present moments and all that is unfolding before you.”
He urges colleagues to step away from Twitter. “My friend, who is an MP, his wife described the iPad as the third person in their relationship. It really does have an hypnotic effect, hypnotic detrimental effect on many MPs. There’s a lot of nastiness out there and we know intuitively, you know, bite your tongue, hold your lip, count to 10 if you can. Mindfulness actually teaches you to do that.”
His co-chairman, Conservative MP Tim Loughton, famously does his mindfulness during long, early morning baths. “I had a longer one this morning,” he admitted. “They have been getting longer and longer. You know: ‘Can I face the world? What’s going to happen? Is there going to be a vote? Are we coming out of Brexit? What on earth am I going to say to the 300 people who have just emailed me overnight on Brexit.”
He has one safety rule for his early dips: “I never take electronic devices anywhere near my bath. I’m not as obsessed as some people who need [them] to be surgically removed from their ears or whatever.“
Theresa May’s speech a couple of weeks ago, apparently trying to pin the blame for the impasse on MPs, was raised again and again by MPs as the source of a new level of public anger. Loughton had seen her just before she “gave her rendition of Life of Brian, you know, ‘you’re not the mother of parliaments, you’re a very naughty boy’ which wasn’t helpful and it completely was counterproductive. I don’t think she’s been on a mindfulness course yet, but I think we could find an emergency place.”
Tired, unfit, unwell, sad, lonely, angry. You don’t have to love MPs, feel sorry for them or share their pain. But you do have to wonder if this is the way to treat the people who make decisions that will affect us all.
